Nervous?

I have found that there are two kinds of rowers in this sport, those with nerves, and those without. I was always the nervous type. It would begin about a week before the race, that sinking feeling in the bottom of your stomach, the inability to concentrate, loss of appetite and a long restless nights with out sleep. All of these would symptoms would increase exponentially as race day approached. It would get so bad that Kate would be afraid to talk to me for about the last three days before a race. What would make it worse would be seeing some of my team mates sitting back stuffing their face laughing and having a good time. I just couldn’t understand how any one could even think about eating and laughing at a time like this. As I got older and a little wiser I came to realize that it wasn’t that those guys weren’t ready, they just handled race days a lot different. I would try to relax enjoy myself and have a little fun but it would always be to no avail. I don’t know exactly what it was that made me so anxious, I knew I couldn’t win the race on my own, and that the world would not come crashing down if we lost. Yet I still would get about 2 hours sleep the night before race day. After I stopped rowing I figured that race week would be a breeze. I assumed I would have to focus more on keeping my guys loose than getting myself to calm down. I figured wrong. Less than a week to Head of the Ohio and I am more up tight than I ever was as a rower. I guess some things never change. How do you feel?

Categories: Memories, Rowing, Regattas, Coaching

This sport is not safe

People participating in sports that involve water over their heads face a risk of drowning. Swimming matches have medics and lifeguards standing by. Surfing competitions usually have safety officials on jetskis. Even the Great Outdoor Games require safety equipment on the log-running competitions. In rowing, there are safety launches at regattas and usually at practices.

Recreational boaters have little safety equipment and less support in case of mishap on a lake or river. Most lakes don't have a rescue boat standing by in case of collision, fire or drowning. Rivers are better patrolled because most are also commercial waterways, transporting goods throughout the country. Sometimes made up of the local police department or the Coast Guard Reserve, this water patrol conducts safety inspections of power boaters and polices the waterway. They must also stand by for any rescue services that might be needed.

My disrespect for the water patrol was passed to me by my high school coach. After decades spent in small launches following crews, he had little time for Coast Guard washouts hassling him during practices. His launches carried the safety gear needed and he knew what to do if a boat went over. The water patrol should mind the powerboaters who got too close to the team, not the coach.

This has usually been my opinion. I understand the need for such a service, but don't need any hassle from them. I'm polite and don't usually give them any mind or any reason to hassle me. Then came yesterday's incident.

As they passed the water patrol boathouse going downstream on a time trial, the varsity heavyweight boat was swamped by the water patrol. Emerging from the boathouse and flooring the twin 150hp engines on their rescue boat, the water patrol didn't even look to their port quarter. Less than twenty yards away was a small craft with less than 3 inches of freeboard. The wake produced by their deep hulled, 25 foot boat crashed over the gunnels, slowing the shell's momentum and holding the hull in that position, allowing more water in. By this time, I was shouting at the water patrol, who didn't hear me. The varsity stopped and I approached the rescue boat after assuring myself the boys weren't going to sink immediately.

The conversation that followed was notable for the stupidity coming from supposed safety-oriented officers. I was told by the helmsman that they were out on training exercises. I acidly queried that if a shell sank and nine boys went into the water, would that constitute a training accident? Then I was told that we were supposed to come downstream on the left side of the river, counter to prevailing traffic patterns. I asked if he was telling me I was supposed to go head to head with power boats and barges in a commercial waterway. The answer to that was simple bureaucratic butt-covering. "We sent you all a memo!"

A memo, if it ever existed (which it didn't), wouldn't change what these idiots did: endangering the lives of nine kids out for a row. These are the people tasked with ensuring the safe navigation of our rivers in Pittsburgh.

Power boaters in general always give us a wide berth. They can see how small the shells are and know what their wake can do. They have to deal with everyone else's wake on a daily basis. Many boaters are curious enough to follow a practice for awhile to see how fast the shells go. A majority will drop to idle, stopping all wake until we pass. I respect all of these boaters, thank everyone I can, answer any questions and put on a show if they want to pace the shells. Even the cigarette boats give us a wide path.

Not River Rescue. I suppose their training is too important to bother with safe or even courteous boating practices. We row on a crowded waterway and usually don't have many issues. However, everyone must remember that this sport isn't perfectly safe, especially when River Rescue is around.

Categories: Rowing, Safety

Quiznos Night

Most crews have some sort of little get-together that revolves around food. Even lightweights have these little traditions, even if to commiserate over trying to lose weight. (Thankfully, I don't have too many rowers with this problem.) Most teams find someplace that serves a lot of grub and some night of the week becomes food night.

For the FC guys, it's Quiznos on Tuesdays.

I don't pretend to know how much money they spend or even how much they eat. Knowing high school boys, it must be a lot. Given that the manager at Quiznos has changed their hours for the boys and put on another staff person, it must be quite a lot.

I stopped by Quiznos tonight, getting there as the boys were leaving. I have to pick up Will on Tuesdays, so I usually can't go out with the boys. Tonight, Emily had a client, so I got the boy and fought the traffic back to Route 8.

The manager and I had a conversation about the kids. I introduced myself as somebody somewhat responsible for their behavior and asked her if there had ever been any problems with them. She responded with enthusiasm, noting that the boys made her bottom line look good on Tuesdays, were always polite, didn't overstay their welcome and even cleaned up after themselves. (Any parents reading must be gnashing their teeth, knowing how impossible it is to get teenage boys to clean anything up.)

The manager also mentioned that the guys now call ahead so she knows to hold one extra staff person later and heat up some meat beforehand. It makes her life easier, and the boys like having the food come a little quicker. Her only request was the guys call every week one way or another so she knows to keep that extra staff on or not.

Funny, isn't it? A squad that has a "bad-boy" reputation giving such courtesy to a fast-food manager. People in these positions are usually disrespected by everyone in our society, down to the guys that pick up the garbage out back every night.

I thanked her for showing welcome to a bunch of teenagers (not always the most welcome customers anywhere) and gave her my number, in case there ever were any issues. I suppose that I'll start getting calls on the water on Tuesdays from Quiznos: "What's their order?"

Categories: FC, Teamwork, Rowing

You’ve Done Well

To be quite honest I couldn’t be much happier right now, today was the first day for the second group of novices. There had been rumors flying around all week about possibly getting 14 more guys, I was some what skeptical. Though we didn’t quite have 14, we got 6 bring our total number to 19. I am extremely pleased. Last year Jay and I made it very clear that we wanted at least 12 new rowers preferably 16. Everyone came through to the utmost extent. This is all on you, we asked you to deliver and you did. With a novice 8+ that is coming along very well and now enough guys to fill a second, we are on the way to a very successful year. Granted about 5 of them “think” they will be doing a spring sport. But I am sure that your pristine manners and, unbelievable intellect will cause them to reconsider. Last year we constantly were talking about taking the next step, today we began to crawl.

Categories: FC, Rowing, Coaching

A new position

I've always wanted to coach college rowing. Club, varsity, women, men, it didn't matter. I believed that situation would fit me very well, given my college experiences. I also plan on coaching at the college level after Emily is done with her doctorate and we leave Pittsburgh.

So, I really jumped at the opportunity to become the assistant coach for the University of Pittsburgh. This early in my career, this was a great "step up" and the additional income is welcome in our household. More important, learning under an experienced coach and international oarsman like Dan Grancea is a valuable education. I really have been making things up as I go along with the FC guys, and it will be comfortable to learn a new rowing style and have somebody to back-stop me from making "rookie" mistakes. My first two years with FC have seen a few goofs by me that got in the way of the guys. Thankfully, I don't believe they blame me for any of these, and I'm always willing to own up to my screwups.

While I'm still just getting my feet wet and learning all the names, a few impressions have already jumped to the forefront. The Pitt rowers are passionate about the sport, perhaps more than I was in college. While I had a comfortable situation, with travel, uniforms, equipment and food expenses paid for, they have to fund-raise all these things. I trained hard. They train just as hard, then give more time in the organization and funding of the club.

Finally, they get up for a 5:30am practice five days a week. Some row twice a day, here in the fall. Imagine how much undergraduates must want success in this sport to maintain those sort of hours. Heck, some undergrads are still crawling home from late-night parties on Friday morning when these guys are launching boats. Such dedication can only pay great dividends in the future, and I'm very impressed by such devotion. I hope that I prove worthy enough to lead such rowers.

I'll be able to keep coaching the FC boys, but I'll have to step back from them a little. There will be conflicts between the two crews, and I'll have to go with Pitt in that situation. Hopefully, I can become as close with the Pitt crew as I am with the FC boys.

Categories: Pitt, College, Rowing, FC

Four years later

The disaster throughout the Gulf Coast has rightly captured the attention of Americans. Thousands dead and missing, citizens scattered in shelters throughout the region, overwhelmed state and federal services and the political fallout make for compelling coverage in the 24-hour news cycle. Thus shall pass the four year anniversary of September 11th, with few mentions and fewer reflections.

Perhaps this is how it should be. As a country, we've moved on. The terrorist mastermind responsible for that awful morning is still at large, and fighting continues in Afghanistan. A country that stood united, ready to shoulder any sacrifice is now turned inward, pledging support on telethons again for the victims of a preventable catastrophe.

Yes, I said it. Again, our government has dropped the ball, leaving citizens dead, homeless and unprotected. Twice in four years, our government has been warned of impending disaster. Twice there has been no response and Americans have died. This is a failure of a basic purpose of government.

Governments are formed so citizens have protection from outside threats they cannot control themselves. No matter anyone's political outlook, everyone agrees on this. Why else have government? Individual people cannot build fighter aircraft, interstate highways or flood control levies.

A search of pre-Katrina articles yields an astounding piece published just last year in National Geographic. In October 2004, the magazine predicts the aftereffects of a category III hurricane hitting New Orleans. Geographic predicted the damage, followed by flooding from levies unable to hold back the storm surge. Perhaps the article was ignored because the magazine also highlighted the loss of "barrier" land south of New Orleans due to overcontrol of the river. See, they were just alarmist environmentalist wackos.

The city of New Orleans had asked for additional federal money to shore up the levies. The Army Corps of Engineers had earmarked that program as a high priority. Instead, the federal government gave money for a multi-million dollar bridge to an island in Alaska inhabited by 50 people. Other pork-barrel spending in the last two transportation bills rivals that bridge in ridiculousness.

The left wing talking heads gleefully place blame on the administration. The right wing talking heads spin blame to the democratic governor and mayor, and decry the "blame game" as injecting "politics" into a terrible disaster. I agree. Politics has been injected into this mess, because our government is a political construct and our government is not following its basic "by the people and for the people" foundation.

Party does not matter at this point. Our elected officials have turned away from the reason they are put in power: to serve the people. Staying in power has become the basic purpose of elected officials, followed by doing favors, usually with the people's money, for their political friends. All of them, democrat and republican, need to go. Every single stinking, self-serving, pork-barrel spending, log-rolling, buck-passing, camera-chasing, incompetent elected official from the Vacationer in Chief down to the moron who didn't release city buses to evacuate New Orleans.

I've had enough of watching our government serve everyone but the people. I've had enough of watching people die because they don't have the political pull to get the government protection they pay taxes for. I'm tired of watching the ruling political class in this country connive to keep each other in power. The new parties should be the incumbents vs. The challengers, and I'm voting straight challengers.

Categories: Politics

A boy and his 1st car

Between crew, marching band and driving my sister around, my parents had decided to get me a car when I turned sixteen. It was made very clear that this car wouldn't be anything special. When I asked my mother to make sure it had a radio, she said that I'd be lucky if it had A/C.

I was drinking coffee and playing cards with my friends at our favorite hangout on a Sunday afternoon. I knew that my parents were out on the car search. They didn't let me go along because my father was sure I would screw up any deal he made. I didn't expect them to bring the car to the Cafe, but I jumped up with a shout when I saw my father get out of the Tercel you see here. I already had my license, so he sent me around the block after assuring me it was mine.

I should have been warned. There was an A/C switch, but no cold air came out when you pushed it. The car had no power steering, the driver's seat was tilted to one side and the door lock didn't work. The odometer read about 54000. There was no sixth number beyond the 5, so we weren't sure if that meant 154000 or 254000. The seller wasn't sure either, as it had been his mother's. My parents had spent $500. They added another $700 fixing the lock and the seat.

This was a 1980 Tercel hatchback. It had a three-speed automatic. There had never been power steering on that car, so it couldn't be added. There was no A/C compressor to fix. I spent $300 (a princely sum for a sixteen year old) for a new radio and speakers.

It was called "Beene's Bomber" or "Skuban's Slider" by my friends. Other, less complimentary names based upon the color of the car won't be mentioned here. I never cared, it was a great car that got better gas mileage than my friends, leaving more money to spend on coffee and food at the Cafe. It was also very light, making the drive to crew a lot of fun as I floored that ancient motor up a twisting country road.

The car finally gave up just before I graduated when the back struts rusted through the body, leaving the rear wheels "squatting" and grinding against the body. Some lunatic wanted the engine and paid us $500 for it. It was a great car for a teenager, and I'll always miss it, even though I nearly sat in the back seat to drive it.

Categories: Memories, Personal, Photo

Searching for pictures

We're in Cincinnati this holiday weekend. As many people may know, women love to look through their in-laws' photo albums. When you're dating, they are looking for embarrassing baby pictures. When you're engaged, they're looking for pictures of old girlfriends. When you're married, they look for pictures of you more attractive than you are now.

So Emily loves these pictures taken of my sophomore year at Yale.

Categories: Photo, Personal, Yale, Rowing

Nobody Lost

A season of frustration following several years of losing preceded the Yale sweep of the Thames river in 1996. The varsity, winning over Harvard for the first time in over a decade, lead nearly the entire race. The JV, long known as a "fly and die" crew, built a large lead that Harvard's furious closing sprint couldn't overcome. The freshmen dominated and even the 3V/2F combination won the previous day.

The jubilation in the Yale complex was the apex of a season of internecine competition that sometimes strained the bonds of friendship between the oarsmen. In years past, the second varsity was expect to push the varsity, followed by the lightweight varsity and the heavy "freesh." This familiar pattern was disturbed by that year's freshman class, who dogged the varsity's wake, beat the lightweights a majority of the time and dominated the second varsity. The "freesh" were cocky, knowing they were going to Henley after their win at Eastern Sprints. Only a weak Harvard freshman boat stood in the way. Looking for tougher competition, the freshman coach had his crew race time trials over the 3 mile JV distance, rather than the traditional 2 mile freshman race. The JV was not amused.

Watching possible future spots in the varsity melt away to the freesh, the JV's frustration had been growing all season. While a few members had shuffled back and forth into the varsity, this was more a sign of trouble in the top boat than their ability. They knew the head coach was looking for a lineup. The question was if next year's lineup would include any of them, with the ability of the freesh so apparent. The first time trial had not gone well, with the JV losing to the freesh and not coming close to the varsity. Only a heavy effort held off the combination crew, fortified by five members of the undefeated second freshman boat.

The varsity was also discontented. Twice they had faced Harvard during the season and lost both races. Coming nearly a length behind in 5th place at Sprints was bad enough, with the freesh jubilantly collecting shirts from their comeback win. A much-publicized race on the Atlanta Olympic course earlier between Yale, Harvard, Oxford and Cambridge hadn't been any closer. Yale had only beaten Cambridge, and trailed Harvard by more than an length.

Furthermore, the varsity had been through three different lineups, with a different stroke in each. In desperation, the head coach had even starboard stroked the boat for a week, looking for a spark. Yet the freesh still sniffed at their heels, forcing the varsity to higher efforts to hold them off. In frustration, a varsity member had been heard to yell "GO AWAY!" during a 5 minute piece in which the freesh refused to concede more than 5 seats.

The final time trial only made the freesh more cocky. As the varsity started a mile away and the freshmen and JV waited at the 3 mile start, the freshman coach forbid his charges to use their flutter until after 2 miles had passed. As the varsity came even, off the JV and freesh went. The JV had heard the command and pressed aggressively. Their races had always been of the "fly and die" sort, taking a large lead and holding off the other crews if possible. Over two miles, the JV built a full length lead over the freesh, though the varsity broke away by a length of open water. The JV didn't care. An entire year of frustration was being burned in this race. Happy shouts were heard in the boat. Then came the last mile pole.

What followed might best be described as an interception returned for a touchdown, followed by a fumble on the kickoff, returned for a touchdown. The flutter unleashed by the freshman boat was that devastating. In twenty furious strokes, they went from a length down on the JV to a length up. From following the JV to challenging the varsity yet again. Video taken in the coaches' launch recorded the disbelieving curse from the head coach. While the varsity was forced to respond with a flutter of their own, the JV tried to figure out what happened. They took back three seats before the freesh started their sprint sequence, trying to stay with the top boat.

The varsity house was gloomy that afternoon. Friction continued with the strutting freesh. The JV didn't like their chances against Harvard. Nobody mentioned the varsity race.

As race day approached, practice work against other boats slacked off. The oarsmen started to come together a little. Then came the uprising of the combination crew, the day before the race. After crushing Harvard over the upper 2 miles of the course, they took The Rock, vowing it would be blue the next morning (this is a subject for another story.) At 10pm that night, they set it afire in the shape of a Y. Their yells could be heard across two miles of water, and the Yale camp answered with screams of their own.

The freshman event the next day was dramatic only for its dominance. The Yale coxswain vowed to defeat Harvard by more than the combination's margin of 18 seconds. He drove his crew like a crazed charioteer, ignoring instructions from the coach not to flutter or sprint if he was far in front. Exhausted, the freesh shouted to "Time it!" as they crossed the line. They won by 23.



The JV event was held as the winds began to increase. Blasting out to a two length lead, the JV battled the rising waves. Harvard's closing charge was blunted by the wind, waves and refusal of the JV to yield. They won by less than a boatlength.

The varsity race was delayed as the wind kicked up higher. Whitecaps appeared on the racecourse. Secluded in the manager's house, the 9 members had nothing to do but talk to each other. Having every other boat in the house win increased their confidence. If the JV could win, if the varsity could hold off those dominant freesh, then they could take Harvard. As one member said later, "We raced every practice. Battles, every practice. Having everyone else win told us that we could, and that made a huge difference."

Stroking the Yale varsity was Peter Stroble, an international-level lightweight. He had left the lightweight team to race in the Harvard-Yale regatta, and had been put in the stroke seat that week. It was enough time. Starting just before darkness, Stroble led the Yale eight down the 4 mile course at a soul-searing rate of 37 strokes per minute. Harvard waited for Yale to slack off from this impossible pace. By the final mile mark, it was apparent Stroble would not yield, and the rest of the boat would not give this decade-anticipated win away. As Yale crossed the line, the rest of the team jumped into the river, jubilantly swimming out to the boat.

That varsity win was built by a senior class that had trained hard. It was also a complete team win, from the second freesh to the varsity stroke. The close competition all season had forged a toughness in the varsity members that served them well during Stroble's incredible charge. They never dropped off the power or allowed rush to creep into the rhythm. They simply called upon the push the lower boats on the team gave them all year.

Categories: Memories, Yale, Rowing, Motivational, Regattas