Letter from America

February 1997

This winter has seen a bunch of interesting threads on the rec.sport.rowing newsgroup: the club vs. camp debate (as in, which way is the best to produce national squads), the USRA's hiring and firing policies, and differences in technique between traditional British and generic American styles of rowing. I had an opinion on many of them (of course). However, I thought it most appropriate for me to comment on one area which will have the most practical use in this letter: coxing.

The coxing thread on r.s.r was started by none other than Wolfson's own Katharine Allen, cox of the 1995 women's first eight and current cox of the men's first eight. She sought to generate a thread to which coxswains could contribute experiences so that they could compare notes and learn from each other. The most fundamental concept that came out of this thread was that the coxes were not really comparing experiences, but rather were comparing concepts. Coxing is a cumulative process - specific situations can never be predicted, so good coxes must know the how (to cox) more than they should learn the what (to do). There is a method to becoming a good coxswain, not a simple formula.

I learned the thought process of coxing from a particularly fine coach (Arthur Gilcreast, who coached at Yale from the early-1950s to the mid-1960s, and then was the varsity boys coach at Phillips Exeter Academy until 1986 and briefly came out of retirement to rebuild the girls program at Exeter around 1990) who had himself once been a great cox. He kept on top of me through practice after practice, and commented to me about everything I did in the same way he coached the oarsmen. As an ex-cox, he was particularly harsh on coxswains. Probably as a result of that, I am known to be a bit harsh on coxes, too. Many coxes appreciate that, though, because they feel more included in the crew and because they have a chance to learn and because the crew learns a bit about why they are so important.

I have probably learned more about the specifics of coxing from others, but Arthur Gilcreast taught me the way to think about coxing in general. Fundamentally, there is no such thing as a perfect cox. He advised me to review every practice in my head when I got off the water and to consider what I did that was good and bad, what worked and what didn't work, what I could have done better and what happened in the crew that may not have been my fault but to which I could have reacted differently. Never should a cox walk away from a practice and just forget about it, but instead should review it immediately in order to learn. Coxing is 100% mental so a cox of all people must think. Coach Gilcreast was available to talk to after practice for me to ask any questions. I think that was important, too. I try to pass this approach onto coxes I coach, and am glad to see Kath contribute to the r.s.r thread along these lines. Kath suggested that coxes keep a coxing logbook to force them to think about the day and to use for consulting later on (actually, she attributed the idea to me, although I don't remember giving her this advice). What is important is that the cox think about every practice and be able to ask questions and talk about concerns with the coach. Coxes should also be encouraged to experiment. The only way for a cox to learn is through experience, and if the cox does not generate some of that himself, then it becomes even harder to learn. Every cox has made calls which have seriously irritated the rowers to the point where they've gotten a "shut up!" or worse out of someone. But a cox doesn't know this until the cox tries it. Plus, different people respond differently to different calls. If a cox is going to learn the psychology of the rowers, he has to be willing to tke risks in practice. The cox can never be just a passenger. Even if the cox isn't talking, he needs to observe and learn.

It is important for the coach to coach the cox as he does the rowers. What is also good, though, is coaching the rowers through the cox. Rather than talking directly to the crew, coaches can talk to the cox. I always explain this to crews before they've ever gotten on the water by insisting that they focus all of their attention on the cox and get all of their commands that way. When the cox is learning, I do give commands directly. But by the second practice the cox should already be giving the basic commands and beginning to learn which commands go with which drill. When I explain new drills to novice crews I will also explain to the cox how best to call that drill and why. When the crews are going, I will often coach them by telling the cox "Betsy, let's get them to sharpen their catches" or "Christie, let's work on the ratio." It then becomes up to the cox to get the crew to respond to this based on what I have told them before and on the arsenal of calls the cox has developed. Before a piece, I will tell the cox what we're doing, not the crew (although the crew can obviously hear me), so it becomes up to the cox to run the show. All I do is set the workout. I do interject during pieces, and normally that means I want the cox to get the crew to do something or because an inexperienced cox doesn't know yet how to get a crew to do something and I want to say something different. But, as I tell crews before they even get on the water, I am not in the boat - the cox is in the boat and is (and must be) completely in charge of it.

It is also important for the cox to listen to the coach and work with him. If the cox is saying one thing during practice and the coach is saying something else, then the rowers get very pissed off. Coxes must keep the focus. If they can get the rowers to do exactly what the coach set out for them to do during that practice, then they will be worth their weight. This means they need to have a strong line of communication with the coach: talking with him before practice to find out what the plan is, talking with him after practice and compare notes.

Talking with the rowers also helps. But I must add a caution to rowers who are dissatisfied with their coxes: don't all tell the cox why. The simple reason is that everyone's opinion of what makes an ideal cox varies. If everyone in a crew is telling the cox something different, the poor cox will only get more confused by conflicting and contrasting opinions. The crew should, instead, discuss their wishes with a single member of the crew - the stroke or the captain - and have that one person synthesize everyone's opinions. The cox can then work with a single simple object in mind. Once that is achieved, then maybe the cox can start listening to various opinions. But nothing will keep a cox in a funk more than getting a bunch of contradicting suggestions. Once the cox improves and gets to know the crew as individuals and as a crew, he will be able to better tailor the coxing to match the crew's needs as a whole while adapting to individual idiosyncracies.

Also useful is to listen to other coxswains, especially more experienced ones (but any cox will do - all coxes are different and a cox may learn something even from less-experienced coxes). If possible, coxes should try to bike alongside a coxed practice and listen (coaching launches are too noisy to overhear all the nuances - if there is no bikepath, then listening to a tape-recorded practice or race is helpful, although it lacks the visual accompaniment). Imitating is good, mimicking is not: indeed, everyone is different and coxswains will cox better as themselves than they will pretending to be someone else. Rowers can smell a fraud. A cox should develop his own style, whatever it is. Then he can get inside the rowers' heads and make them believe that what the cox is saying is what they are actually thinking.

If you stop enjoying it, take time off. Rowers can sense when you are not having fun. I quit coxing because I burned out. The main reason I burned out was that I was inconsistent and prone every so often to inexplicable bad streaks which ensured I would never achieve all that I aspired to. So I stopped enjoying it, and without my heart being in it I just wasn't having fun even when all my calls were brilliant and working. I lived for racing, but I started to dread training day after day. It came time to limit my coxing to only crews I am coaching - where I can learn something about them from a different angle and thus help them - or to crews which could offer me an opportunity to do something new and exciting that I haven't had the chance to do before - where the excitement provides the impetus for me to get inspired enough to cox properly.

Coxing is a process. In order to race well, a cox has to develop an understanding of the crew. This is one reason it is important to cox well in practice - and to be experimental. Coxes must relax. They must get to know the guys inside and out so in order to manipulate their psyches. If the rowers are talking about something cool over breakfast - something that inspires them in some way - then the cox can use a related analogy during the practice. I once made Gladiators allusions through an entire practice because the guys I was coxing (Matt Pinsent and some other hot shots among them) were talking about Gladiators the whole van ride to practice. We romped. I've also made more than my share of silly calls that have fallen flat (or which have reduced the rowers to hysterics, which did not make them row very effectively). One thing I've noticed: American coxswains talk a lot more than British coxswains. My advice to British coxes: Be creative. Say interesting things in practice, even if what you say sounds ludicrous. That will make you see how the rowers respond - what they like and don't like - and will increase your arsenal of calls during a race.

Everything in a race should be second-nature. By the time you think of something, react, and make the call, then the moment has passed. Use practices and pre-race visualizations to prepare so that even if the unexpected happens you'll be able to deal with it naturally as a matter of course while remaining entirely in control. I used to go through every conceivable scenario while standing in a hot shower in the morning before a race. I also came up with some of my best race calls during 30-minute-plus showers.

Tone of voice is also important. I usually turned my coxbox volume up really high and regulated volume through my own voice. That way soft comments could still be heard by the crew. It is also possible to be very intense without screaming - and it's far more intelligible. And if the other crews overheard everything I said, then fine - what was I supposed to be afraid of. Sometimes I would even tailor my comments specifically because I could tell the other crew was listening in - it's fun to cox more than one crew in the same race.

Another thing that is often under-emphasized but which is essential: learning to steer. Even if it means shutting up for entire practices in order to concentrate on steering, coxes must get their steering sorted. It doesn't matter what calls they make if they can't stay in their lane. And if something happens in a race and the boat starts to get off course, the cox may have to shut up for a few strokes and get the steering sorted out before it becomes a problem. More good advice from Coach Gilcreast.

Back to Charles Ehrlich's Letter from America.