Women’s Henley 1995: reflections from the bank
By now, you will all doubtless have heard of the excellent weekend Michelle, Suzie, Jo, Fiona and Chris had. I thought that rather than repeat what others will surely relay, I would tell a slightly different story – that from the bank.
I went, along with the crew and trailer, on the Friday, willing to act as a general dogsbody for the whole weekend. I figured they had more than enough to worry about, so anything at all I could do to make life easier, I should and would.
But this crew were better than that, and did not give either myself, Tony or Chris Sawyer too much to do. They were united, co-ordinated, focused and together – all the things a good crew should be. Chris McGlyn as cox showed maturity beyond his stature, weighing in and checking in for the crew unprompted, and clearly possessing a good understanding of the rules. If ever a complete crew was united in purpose and at their peak mentally and physically, this was it.
Come qualifying on Friday night, it was definitely an anxious time, but certainly on the bank there was a quiet confidence. They came to this Regatta not only on the back of a lot of hard training, but on an excellent last week – going fast and looking good in their new boat.
Running over the course alongside the crew, it was obvious that they had peaked at the right time. This was especially apparent at the finish. So many other crews were ragged and flopped over the line, spent, whereas the Sudbury Women and Babs looked as good at the finish as they did at the start – long, strong and smooth. There was not much doubt on the bank that they had got through, and so it turned out. So, first hurdle over – into the last 16.
It rained all day Saturday, which made being on the bank a bit uncomfortable, but nobody cared too much about that. As the first race, versus Leicester, approached, all minds began to focus. And off they went. They had a great row, winning convincingly, and could look forward to an encounter with Lensbury later in the day. There was much discussion of the times from all the 1st. round races, but as Terry quite rightly pointed out, the wind was varying all the time and therefore misleading as to true boat speed.
Into the last 8! That was soon to be the last 4, out of 34 entrants, as another powerful impressive performance from the Women saw them home, again by a comfortable amount. For this race, Sudbury had a presence in the launch, on a bike, running alongside, and dotted along the bank, and we began to believe that they could go all the way. It had passed from having done well to qualify, to daring to believe they could win. Again it was a strong, cohesive, controlled row, and they really were rowing very well indeed. It was great to still be haring along the bank, shouting encouragement as they moved into the lead after dropping half a length off the start, whilst many crews were packing up their trailers, having been eliminated. And for those who were worrying about the times, our Ladies obliged by posting the fastest time for that round.
So through to Sunday! Whatever happened hereafter, they had done very well, and could quite rightly feel very proud of themselves.
On Sunday, the semi-final was not until just before 4pm, so there was ample time to rest and eat. For those of us not in the boat, it was frustrating – I for one was impatient to get into a boat. As the race approached, the enormity of what lay ahead – a place in the final – become more real.
It was, to me at any rate, a distinct relief to push them off for their race with Lea, and run down to the start. I have never been that wound up spectating before, and was more nervous than in some races I have rowed in. Before they boated, I was very fidgety – so imagine what the girls felt like. To their immense credit, they were right there - focused, looking forward to the battle, and wanting to get on with it.
In the inevitable manoeuvring before they were called to the stake boats, Sudbury won the psychological battle easily, with some subliminal boat balancing at Easy Oars and on the first stroke moving off up to the start. If I had been in the Lea boat, I would have been seriously worried by now.
And they’re off! Come on Sudbury!! The sense of occasion was dramatically raised from the Saturday, with many more people lining the bank, and blazers and flannels fit for the Royal Regatta much in evidence. I know the girls appreciated that, along with the pilgrimage made by other members of the club, who drove down specially to be there. They handled the pressure like seasoned champions.
There was much more of a buzz through the enclosure, and a real race took place. Down about two thirds of a length off the start, Sudbury clawed it back progressively, and thereafter there was never more than half a length in it. It really was great rowing to watch - two even crews racing well. Sudbury, nearest the crowd, looked long and strong and together – as they had all weekend. Under-rating Lea coming past the enclosure, the many shouts from well-wishers forming strange allegiances served to add to the cacophony of noise and excitement.
And then it was all over. Lea held on to win by four feet, desperately close in a 1500m side-by-side race. The intense effort and focus required had, in the peculiar way of boat-racing, resulted in the race seeming to be over in a flash for those in the boat, while at the same time utterly draining them. They could give no more, and their body language as they slumped over the oars reflected that. There was no more exhilaration from having just won to keep them going now.
Not everybody wins, and certainly not everybody wins all of the time. But once you get into your boat, tie into your shoes, push off, and then lean on the oars, you have indeed won far more than those who have never tried.
On the bank, the immense disappointment at the result, along with the heartfelt helplessness and sympathy resulted in momentary gloom, but slowly the realisation dawned that they could be immensely proud of themselves – they had done very well, and now totally eclipse the men’s side of the club!
After the inevitable analysis (and equally inevitable ritual of throwing the cox into the river as gratitude), everyone repaired to the refreshment tent for a long-overdue and well earned beer, before watching Kingston beat Lea in the final. I think every towpath pundit would admit that Lea, sluggishly rating 4 lower in the final, had been rowed out by Sudbury only an hour before, and simply had nothing more to give – a view reinforced when Tony spoke to their coach afterwards.
Slowly over the next day or two, the enormity of what they did, and what it means, will sink in. I know I speak for the whole club in saluting them absolutely, and I finish this rambling personal discourse by paraphrasing the words of Sir Theodore Cook, uttered many generations ago, but equally applicable today:
When we gather for the happiest week in all the year, it is the brotherhood of rowing, the comradeship of the oar that we recall, when four women who have trained until they have become a single drive, a single thrust of forward – flashing wrists, face suddenly the crisis towards which that selfless toil has led them, and know that every link in all that pulsing chain of flesh and blood rings true. For them, there are no centuries or duck’s eggs, no goals or gallery kicks, no individual distinctions where the crew are all in all. The rattle of the riggers at the finish, the music of the tide beneath her body as she shot between the strokes, the grim yet heartening sound of splendid and unbroken strength when all four blades crashed in together – these are the things that no one who has heard and felt them will ever forget. Some delirium. Some tremens. Some kaleidoscope.