The Steward's Enclosure
Henley-on-Thames, United Kingdom
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
They say that London is the global headquarters of gossip, what with the British tabloids engaging in a constant high-stakes game of spying, insinuating, bribing, and occasionally simply creating news for their ravenous readership. Not this week. For now, intrigue central has been displaced about 30 miles west, to Henley-on-Thames. And the leading audience for—and purveyors of—the shady art are, of course, rowing coaches looking for an edge.
Did you hear that visa problems have been decimating the U.S. teams? Some of the international students so avidly recruited by college coaches had trouble getting into England for the regatta. The stern pair of the Cal freshmen just got their visas cleared at the last minute—rumor has it. The Harvard lightweights, who were already taking on the challenge of rowing a coxed four in an open event, were not so lucky. Their South African teammate was not allowed in because he was deemed a risk to stay. Then they drew the Harvard heavyweight four in the in the first round.
Did you see any of the scrimmages or time anyone’s workouts? The Brown women were out practicing with the University of Virginia men’s four with, and apparently it wasn’t a very even match. But maybe someone wants to hide their speed, catch some people by surprise.
And what about the lane draw? The lanes at Henley are famously unfair—or maybe not. The race is rowed upstream, and the far lane, Bucks, is out in the center of the current. Regatta officials point to relatively even results over 160 years of racing, which casts some statistical doubt on the sense of imbalance, but hey, that’s thousands of races, quite a body of evidence. So isn’t any difference actually quite significant? As I discussed the lane anomaly with a British spectator who had won races at Henley as a schoolboy and then as a club rower in the early ‘90s, he suggested that when they threw the names into the hat to pick the lanes after the first day, they twisted the entries with British crews’ names differently than the entries with U.S. crews’ names, so they could reliably land in the near lane, Berks (which, just to complicate things, is pronounced “Barks). Of course, he was joking . . . or was he?
The gossip is just another one of the things that I like about Henley. I like the single elimination format. I like the way spectators who know nothing about rowing enter betting pools (informal, of course) like U.S. office workers do for March Madness, picking crews because the name amuses them or because their great-uncle attended the school. I like that it’s a 5-day costume party, and that once you’re along the banks of the river you feel perfectly comfortable wearing an outfit that would humiliate you anywhere else. And I like that it’s an expensive, lavish celebration of rowing and the athletes who train their butts off for precious little celebration elsewhere.
Today was the first day of racing, mostly mismatches. The times will tell you nothing, because superior crews shut down two or three minutes into the race. In fact, there’s no better argument for the significance of training, technique, and sheer athletic talent than seeing two crews moving along the course, one having ratcheted down the rating into the mid-20s, comfortably holding a 4-5 length lead over a crew that is still at 36 and hoping to get back into the race.
One rumor, however, did prove true. That South African Harvard oarsman was not allowed into England. Without him, the Harvard A (colours: crimson and white) vs. Harvard B (colours: crimson and white) four race went to Harvard A. And Charlie Butt, the Harvard lightweight coach who was here with Harvard B, had lost all interest in the scuttlebutt. As of late this afternoon, he was looking for an early flight home.
And, by the way, Harvard B was in the Bucks lane.
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