Pikey’s, Top Gun and a Leoplurodon - The little things that count

I leaned outside of the boat, careful not to let anyone behind me know what I was doing - I’d already been called to sit down from an umpire in the launch in our wake. We needed to tell them that they were still in it, that they needed to hang on a little longer and they’d catch up. The coaches had been given explicit instructions that they were not to signal their crews at any time during the race, but John and I, almost of one mind, had turned to each other to suggest the same thing. In the distance I could see St Stithians, the third crew in this 3-crew B-final. They had wrapped the race up by the 2km mark and were powering their way to a 3rd place overall - we were fighting for second with Clarendon. I saw John give a thumbs up through a gap between the two umpires sitting in front as I caught sight of Courtney. I was happy to see that she was keeping her eyes on the stern in front of her like we had practiced - all of my nagging seemed to have paid off. She was wearing her sunglasses, but I knew she saw what I was doing because she smiled as I began to nod to her.

Courtney turned her head slightly to the side and called something to the crew that was lost in the wind and tortured water around us. Jomi sat up, Jani’s puddles swelled, Bronwyn connected harder and sooner, and I could only imagine the smirk on Amy’s face as she felt the gear-change in the cox’s seat. The horse reared and the shell began to cut the water like lightning let loose from Olympus. It was ten strokes before they drew level with the green and white of Clarendon and in another ten they were breaking contact.

John and I were ecstatic and were silently going crazy in the back of the leading umpire’s launch. A few minutes earlier I was in utter despair thinking that we had been totally outclassed and solidly beaten, but the girls had come back from being over two lengths down at the beginning of the 4km race. Never had I imagined that that group of girls could come together as a crew like this in such a short time. I had always known the potential that lay within them, and they had only begun to realise it now. We weren’t quite an A-Final crew yet, but the girls had won a private victory against themselves.

I realised that it was the little things that John and I had done that had made all the difference. I had learned that I couldn’t do everything myself and had finally asked for help from those who knew more about certain aspects of sport than I did. Anne and Dave had sown the seeds that I was beginning to see grow in each of the girls and I realised that I owed a great deal to Sue for the mediation she had provided. The three of them had definitely made the previous weeks some of the most special and enthralling of my coaching and rowing career - and had given the girls a freedom to begin to develop as a team.

The girls had opened up a three-length lead by the time they passed under the old bridge that marked the real beginning of the home stretch. Amy would be able to see the finish line now and would be heading in a straight line for the NSRI building. I could just see the black emblem on the hull beside her head, the symbol that meant something different to each of them, but held them all to a single purpose. Darren would be proud that his work had meant so much to them and I made a mental note to thank him for it when I got home.

I only noticed the sound of the car horns blaring from the side of the river as our launch passed under the old bridge. Looking back, I caught sight of Matt H and Vicky, two of the St Andrews coaches that had come down to support. Meri, Shannon and Gisella were no doubt around somewhere cheering like mad things. My head throbbed a little, reminding me of their ‘stress-relief’ session the night before and I smiled, remembering how they had been John and my voices-of-reason over the past week.

The girls crossed the line and the ordeal was officially over. Everything that I had done for the last month had culminated in this and I had everyone involved to thank for it, even Charlie the Unicorn, Boris the Bullet-Dodger and Maverick.

I’ve had a good few weeks now to forget about rowing, go to the coast, put my feet up and get rid this horrific slop tan. I’ve had trouble finding the right words to explain what I have experienced over the past two months - so much has happened that it has taken a long while to get my thoughts into some semblance of order.

Everything seems to be falling into place and I’m excited for the rest of the season. Camp starts on Wednesday and I’m looking forward to applying to the age-group what I’ve only recently learned with 7 special people.