Last Summer, I finally got around to reading Wanted: Rowing Coach by Brad Alan Lewis. In the book, Lewis tells a fictionalized account of his year as the Head Coach of the University of California at Santa Barbara. Throughout the book runs a clear undercurrent, mentioned specifically at the beginning and at the end but noticeable throughout: UC Santa Barbara has no business having a rowing program. Frankly, I found that conclusion offensive.
The book details all the trials and tribulations of a poorly-funded program rowing in less-than-ideal circumstances on a body of water far from campus. Certainly, many potential rowers probably got scared away from doing the sport at all because of the conditions under which UCSB rows. But one thing was clear to me: those rowers on the team wanted to row. To them, the benefits of rowing outweighed the hardships they had to go through in order to row. So, they rowed and are certainly better people for it. Some people who might have rowed under better circumstances did not, but those who did row demonstrated great dedication and perseverance in order to enjoy, and attain a certain level of success at, their chosen activity.
In some respects, the program at UC Santa Barbara had it good: Lewis’ salary was paid by the University, which also provided basic support in other areas. Many club-status programs are not so lucky - my current affiliation included. We get virtually no support from the College - financially we are supported to the tune of $6 per rower per year, and we get next to no non-financial support such as help with transport (but restrictions we have in abundance, including restrictions on our ability to fundraise). But it never ceases to amaze me how many places have crews, and under what conditions. Rowing as a sport has taken off all over this country. Many of these start-up programs are just that: start-ups, with no real basis other than a desire to try rowing. Some of them have made the jump and become serious, even competing against the large funded programs. Every time I hear about a new rowing program I am excited, excited that a new group of students will have the opportunity to fall in love with the sport. And every time I hear about a young and poor program being successful, I also get excited, because it shows that the dedication those students had to put in against all odds has paid off.
Every day, when I head down to practice, I take great pride in the students I coach. I may be heartless and ruthless as a coach, but I do appreciate the enormous effort everybody puts in and the great strides they make. I want every one of them to achieve fulfillment in the sport. Not everyone can achieve his dreams, but it still hurts me when those students who work hard fall short. I care about all of them, or I wouldn’t be doing this. I also know how much harder it is for them than it was for me - they have no money, no facilities, no support. They pay dues and spend time on fundraising projects, money and time that could be spent elsewhere. Why do they do this? It is my hope that it is because they feel that the experience they are getting in return is far more valuable than the money they put in. This activity has to be worthwhile if they are to continue to do it.
Rather than disparage their efforts, as Lewis does, I applaud them. Lewis was an Olympian - a gold-medal winner at that. He must know about sacrifice if he was to achieve what he did. Why then does he show so much scorn for the effort of others even less fortunate than he was? It amazes me.
Another related issue that is dear to me is what to do with the lower crews. In my former competitive life, I spent more than my share of time on lower crews. I know full well the disappointment associated with not making the first eight. I also know full well that everybody else I rowed with in my predicament had worked hard and were also disappointed. But that never stopped us. We worked hard for a reason: we enjoyed the sport and we wanted to make boats move fast. Simply by being there to provide intra-squad competition we did our part to make the first eight win races. Meanwhile, we won plenty ourselves. That made our experience worthwhile, and made us come back the next year to try again to make the top crew. If we did not make the top crew again, we simply made whatever crew we were in go faster.
Some great characters have emerged from lower crews. They are never second-class human beings, and they should never be treated as such, just as rowers from small poor programs should never be treated as second-class human beings. Everyone who puts something into this sport deserves respect and credit, whether they be on a lower boat or in a young program or, indeed, both. Even though not everyone can have all the breaks, the opportunities, and the success, there is nevertheless room for everyone in this sport so long as he takes himself seriously.
There’s also room for a few slackers. I have never been known to be very tolerant of slackers, but that depends on the context in which they are in. Some people have different sets of goals for themselves, and just doing this sport casually fulfills those goals. So long as they are honest about that, then there is a time and place for these people, too. I have certainly taken part in joke crews, but I wouldn’t do anything serious in one.
People in Oxford may remember my involvement with St. Antony’s College: I was approached by a bunch of non-athletic chain-smokers and asked to teach them the basics. They were in Oxford and the College owned a boat. They figured they wanted the experience of trying the sport, but they weren’t willing to train and only wanted to practice about two or three times a week. They obviously did not have any high goals for themselves, but they wanted to make sure that what little they did do they did right so they could be competitive with other colleges’ lower boats. Of course, they had to pay me a lot to put up with this nonsense, but they were a great group of guys and fun to work with. The first rule I imposed, though, was: no smoking in the boat (yes, indeed, they did try to light up during the first practice). How some of them managed to go for a full hour without smoking still amazes me, and so did the volume of the wheezing that came out of them when they finally learned to apply pressure and do pieces. But these folks got out of it exactly what they wanted. Indeed, every year I was involved they got a little more serious as they attracted their more athletic friends into the club. But it was all a question of what they wanted to get out of the experience. Since they were quite clear about their ambitions, it was actually quite amusing to work with them (at least once a safe coxswain materialized).
When I think of all the people I have had the chance to coach, I can think of people at all sorts of levels within the sport. Most of the people I have coached have had me coach them in their first year of rowing, and a few more may not have had me coach them much that year, but at least worked within a system I had set up and under a novice coach within that system. Many of them have rowed under not-so-favorable conditions. Some of them were not all that serious. All were important to the health of the sport and of the club for which they rowed. Several (including a handful of the non-serious ones) continued to row beyond college. This sport exists at many levels, and provides rewards and challenges to everyone who is willing to put in whatever effort is needed at whatever level is appropriate. Not everyone will go on to win the Gold at the Olympics, and I am sorry if Lewis can not see that there is worth even to those who may never have the opportunity to try. Some who do, however, do begin under inauspicious circumstances - and that is one thing that is good about the sport. Lewis needs to embrace these facts.
I did learn a few things about coaching from reading his book. Lewis knows his stuff. I don’t always agree with his approach but I see where he is coming from and where he wants to go. But throughout the book I could not get that nagging thought out of my head: why does he so fundamentally disparage his rowers’ efforts? UC Santa Barbara does deserve a program. Those students who want to row deserve a program. And there is room for more programs in even worse circumstances than at UCSB. The coaching job at UCSB may not have been ideal for Lewis, but that does not mean that Santa Barbara should not have a program. That Lewis, the Olympic gold medalist, cannot grasp that saddens me.