COMBINED OARSMANSHIP IN EIGHTS (_continued_).
From the hints given in the preceding chapter it will have been gathered
that good oarsmen are of all sizes and weights. But it must not be
forgotten that no small part of the motive-power of a crew comes from
heavy men. By weight I do not, of course, mean that which results from
mere adipose deposit; but weight, as it is usually found amongst young
men, that depends on the size of the frame and the limbs, and on their
due covering of muscle and sinew. I cannot, therefore, too strongly
advise a captain or a coach to spare no labour and no patience in
endeavouring to teach big men how to row. There will be disappointments.
Every one who has experience of rowing must remember at least one
massive and magnificent giant who failed to learn, in spite of infinite
pains on his own part and on the part of those who had to teach him.
Out of a boat he may have looked the very model of what a heavy-weight
oarsman should be--erect, strong, well-proportioned, supple, and active.
But put him in a boat, and at once he suffered a river change. His
muscles turned into pulp, his chest became hollow, his arms and legs
were mere nerveless attachments, and his whole body assumed the
shapelessness of a sack of potatoes. In the end, after many days, the
hopeless effort had to be sadly abandoned, and the would-be oarsman
returned to the rough untutored struggles of the football field, or the
intoxicating delights of lawn-tennis and golf. But, on the other hand,
there are innumerable instances to prove that a big man who has never
touched an oar before he came to Oxford or Cambridge, or joined one of
the Metropolitan clubs, may, by care and perseverance, be turned into
the pride and mainstay of his crew. Therefore, I say, persist with big
and heavy men, in spite of occasional discouragements; for there is more
advantage to a crew in one rough thirteen-stoner who really works and
swings than in two light-weights polished _ad unguem_.
In the shapes of oarsmen, again, every kind of variety may be found, not
merely in minor details, but in the whole physical characteristics of
their bodies. Bob Coombes, the professional champion of 1846, 1847, and
1851, has recorded his opinion that the best physical type of oarsman is
the man who is, amongst other things, deep-chested and straight and full
in the flanks; who, in other words, has no waist to speak of. To this
type Mr. S. D. Muttlebury and Mr. Guy Nickalls conform, and there can be
no doubt that it is the best. But I have known oarsmen who varied from
it in every detail, and yet did magnificent work in a crew. I have
already mentioned Mr. C. W. Kent, and I may add another example in Mr.
H. Willis, of the Leander Club, a very finished and valuable oar, who
has given his proofs not only in an Eight, but also as No. 3 of the
winning Stewards' Four at Henley Regatta this year. Mr. Willis is tall
and loose-jointed. He is not furnished with any great quantity of
muscle, and his modesty will not resent my adding that, though he has a
well-framed chest, he also possesses a very distinct waist. I might
multiply such instances; but they may all be summed up in the statement
that a really good oarsman is never of a bad shape--for rowing. The
ultimate test is to be found not in the examination of his muscle or the
measurement of his frame, but in the careful and patient observation of
his work while he is actually engaged in rowing. A mere weed, of course,
cannot row to advantage; but I have seen more than one instance of
so-called weeds who eventually developed under the influence of the
exercise into solid and capable oars. And, as a rule, there is more
promise in the comparative weakling than in the gymnast whose tight
binding of muscles impedes the freedom and alertness of his limbs.
We may now consider how the practice of an ordinary eight-oared crew
should be conducted. There is a certain amount of difference of opinion
as to how long a crew should remain in their tub--that is, in their
clinker-built boat--before taking to the racing-ship. Most college
captains, I think, keep their men in the heavy boat too long. Four or
five days are, I think, an amply sufficient period. Experienced oars are
none the better for rowing in a heavy boat, and novices who have much to
learn in watermanship, and want a long period for the learning, can be
taught the requisite lessons only in a light ship. The difficulties of
sitting such a ship are, as a rule, much exaggerated; and the young oar
who watches the scratch crews rowing against a University crew, or sees
a Leander Eight setting out for the first time, is apt to be surprised
when he notes how eight men, who have never rowed together before, can
move along with uniformity and steadiness. There are, no doubt,
difficulties of balance and quickness in light ship rowing; but the
sooner these are faced the better for all concerned. I am assuming, of
course, that the novice has been already drilled in the manner described
in previous chapters.
As to the total length of the period of practice from the start to the
day of the race, that must, and does, vary according to circumstances. A
University crew practising for a long race will be at work generally
from about the middle of January until towards the end of March, some
ten weeks in all. Cambridge college crews have six weeks, Oxford college
crews only about four, for the college races. A London, Thames, or
Kingston crew can command at least seven weeks for the practice of its
Henley crew. On the other hand, no winning Leander crew that I have
known has ever practised for more than three weeks as a combination;
though individual members of it, who had not been at work since the
previous year, may have been taking rowing exercise on their own account
for some little time before the eight got to work. As a typical example,
I may take the remarkable Leander crew of 1896. Five members of this
crew--Mr. Guy Nickalls, Mr. J. A. Ford, Mr. C. W. N. Graham, Mr. T. H.
E. Stretch, and Mr. H. Willis--had had no rowing exercise for a year;
one, Mr. W. F. C. Holland, had not worked, except for a casual regatta
in Portugal, since the final of the Grand Challenge Cup in 1893; the
other two, Mr. H. Gold and Mr. R. Carr, had been in regular practice at
Oxford or at Putney since the previous October. Two weeks before
practice in the Eight began, Messrs. Holland, Ford, Stretch, and Graham
began work in a Four, with Mr. Graham, the eventual bow of the Eight, at
stroke. Mr. Willis had half this period of preliminary practice in a
pair. Mr. Nickalls had for some weeks been working at Putney in a Four
and a pair. Just three clear weeks before the first day of Henley
Regatta the Eight was launched; but it was not until three days after
this that Mr. Nickalls was able to come into the boat, and the crew for
the first time rowed in its final order, the advent of Mr. Nickalls
resulting in four changes in its arrangement. And yet this crew defeated
Yale University, who had been practising for months, and other crews,
composed of good material, that had been together for six or seven
weeks. I have in my mind, too, another crew, a combination of three
Oxonians, two Cantabs, two Etonians, and one Radleian, who, on one
week's practice, managed to beat over a one-mile course the Eights of
the London and Thames clubs, in spite of their ten or eleven weeks of
practice.
I do not wish to have it inferred from the foregoing facts that in my
opinion those crews are likely to turn out best which practise together
for a very short time. Still, the qualities of skill, keenness of
enthusiasm, strength, condition, and racing ability, are factors in
success even more important than length of practice. It ought, of
course, to be true that if you could get two crews equally matched as
regards these qualities that which had had the longer period of practice
should win because of its greater uniformity. Moreover, in most cases
extra length of practice _up to a certain point_ ought to imply
superiority of condition. Beyond that point a crew, though it maintains
its outward uniformity and style, will fall off in pace, because
overwork will have dulled the edge of its energies, and robbed it of the
brisk animation that marks the rowing of men trained to the very
needle-point of perfect condition. And on the whole, taking condition
and the risks of staleness into account, I should prefer to take my
chances for an ordinary race with a crew that had practised from four to
five weeks, rather than with one that had been at it for ten or eleven.
I leave out of account the Oxford and Cambridge boat-race, both because
of the length of the course over which it is rowed, and on account of
the frequent changes to which the authorities generally find themselves
compelled to resort. And even for this race, if a president could at the
outset be absolutely certain as to the general composition of the crew,
he would find, I think, that a period of seven weeks at the outside
would be fully sufficient for him and his men. The whole matter amounts
to this, that a captain or a coach must consider carefully all the
circumstances of his case--the skill, the condition, the experience and
the strength of his men, and the distance over which they have to race,
and must decide on the period of practice accordingly. I cannot on paper
lay down any fixed general rule for his guidance, but can only bring
before him a few detached considerations which may be useful to him as
food for reflection. For my own part, I may add that I have never found
the least difficulty, even after a year's rest from rowing, in getting
into very good racing condition on three or four weeks of work.
HOW TO ARRANGE THE DAILY WORK OF AN EIGHT.
Let the real hard work be done in the earlier stages of practice. You
thus accustom your men to one another, and you grind them into a
uniformity which makes all their subsequent work easier. This plan has
been very successfully followed by Oxford crews. Before they get to
Putney they will have rowed over the long course of four miles some ten
times. As a result, the men are hard and row well together; and during
their stay at Putney it is found possible to ease them in their work,
so as to bring them fresh and vigorous to the post on the day of the
race. Supposing you have five weeks for practice, you ought, I think,
during the first fortnight to row your crew over the racing course at
least four times. During the next ten days one full course will be
sufficient. The work of the last ten days must vary according to the
condition of the men, but two half courses and one full course at a
racing stroke will probably be found sufficient. Save for the rare case
of an exceptionally long row, a practice of about an hour and a half
every day is enough. At Henley all crews practise twice a day, but I do
not think they spend more than two hours, if so much, on the water every
day.
RATE OF STROKE.
The practice rate for paddling ought not in the early stages to be less
than twenty-eight to the minute, which you may raise two points when
rowing hard. Later on, when your men are doing their rowing work at
thirty-six or more, and when they are, or ought to be, well together,
you may drop the rate of paddling to twenty-six or twenty-five, in order
to give them periods of rest, and to instil into them that steadiness
of swing which they are apt to neglect when engaged in the effort of
working up the stroke to racing pace. For a course of a mile to a mile
and a half, a crew should be able to start at forty, continue at
thirty-eight, and, if necessary, finish at forty in the race. Even for
the Putney to Mortlake course a crew ought to be able to command forty
at a pinch. As a rule, however, over a four-mile course a crew will go
quite fast enough if it starts for not more than a minute at
thirty-seven to thirty-eight, and continues, in the absence of a
head-wind at an average of thirty-five.[9] At Henley most crews will
start off at forty-one to forty-two for the first minute, and continue
at thirty-nine. Anything higher than this is dangerous, though on a
course of two-thirds of a mile I have known a Four to row forty-six in
the first minute with advantage.
[9] Against a head-wind the rate of stroke must be slower. A coach's
instructions would be, "Swing down and reach out well, and swing hard
back against the wind." A following wind makes a crew very unsteady,
unless they remember that, since the pace of the boat is increased by
the wind, they must catch the beginning sharper, to prevent the boat
running away from them, and take their oars out even quicker and cleaner
than before, in order to prevent the boat catching them up, as it were.
Above all, they must keep the swing slow when they have a following
wind.
These instructions are intended to apply to light racing ships. For the
clinker-built fixed-seat boats that are used at Oxford and Cambridge for
the Torpids and Lent races, a racing rate of thirty-seven ought to be
high enough, seeing that the crews are mainly composed of young oars.
The second division crews of the Cambridge "May" races row with slides,
but in heavy, clinker-built boats. The advantages of this arrangement
are not obvious. Still, these crews ought to be able to race at
thirty-six to thirty-seven. As a rule, however, when I have seen them
practising a minute's spurt, nearly all of them seem to have imagined
that thirty-two strokes were amply sufficient for racing purposes.
PADDLING.
Paddling should be to rowing what an easy trot is to racing speed on the
cinder-path. A crew when paddling is not intended to exert itself
unduly, but to move at a comfortable pace which excludes any sense of
fatigue, and enables the men to give their best attention to perfecting
themselves in style, and to harmonizing their individual movements with
those of the rest. In paddling men do not slash at the beginning so
hard, nor do they grind the rest of the stroke through with the same
power as when rowing. Less violent energy is put into the work, and the
stroke consequently does not come through so fast. The rate of paddling
must therefore be slower than that of rowing, since each stroke takes a
longer time for its completion. As a rule, too, the blade is in paddling
not quite so deeply covered, and cannot make the same rushing swirl
under water. During the earlier stages of practice paddling is merely
easier rowing; it is not so sharply distinguished from hard rowing as it
becomes later on. At the outset it is necessary to make your crew both
paddle and row with a full swing, in order to get length ineradicably
fixed in their style. But later on a coach may tell his men, when he
asks them to paddle, not only to use the easier movements prescribed
above, but also to rest themselves additionally by using a somewhat
shortened swing. Then, when they are to row, he must call on them to
swing forward and reach out longer; to swing back harder and longer,
with a more vigorous beginning; and to put more force into their
leg-drive. A very useful plan, especially for the purpose of getting a
crew finally together, is to make them do long stretches of paddling
varied here and there by about a dozen or twenty strokes of rowing, care
being taken, however, not to allow the paddling to get dead and dull,
and a special point being made of getting the rowing not only hard, but
very long.
Paddling is a difficult art to learn, and only the very best crews
paddle really well with balance, rhythm, and ease. Many a time I have
seen a good crew and an inferior one paddling along the course together,
and almost invariably the good crew, which had mastered the trick of
paddling at a slow stroke and with perfect ease, was distanced. Yet a
moment afterwards, when they ranged up alongside, and started together
for a two minutes' burst of rowing, the good crew would leave its
opponents as though they were standing still.
HOW TO WORK THE STROKE UP TO RACING PACE.
There comes a time in the history of every crew when, having been
plodding along comfortably at thirty-four, they suddenly realize that
the race is barely a week off, that if they are to have any chance of
success they must raise the stroke, and that they don't know how on
earth it is to be done, seeing that they have usually felt pretty well
cleaned out after rowing even a half course at their present rate.
However, they generally do manage _tant bien que mal_ to get it done,
and find in the end that thirty-eight is not really much more difficult
for men in good training than thirty-four.
The best plan, I think, is to devote the greater part of an afternoon's
practice to short rows of half a minute and a minute at, say,
thirty-seven, and to wind up with three minutes of this. On that day
there will probably be at first a terrible amount of rushing and
splashing. On the following day you will find that things have settled
down, and you will be able to row for five minutes at the faster rate.
On the third day practise short pieces again at thirty-eight,
thirty-nine, forty; and on the fourth day row your full course at as
fast a rate as you can command. A coach should impress upon his crew
that a fast stroke is to be secured not by rushing forward with the
bodies, but by rattling away the hands quicker and by increasing the
force employed in forcing the oar through the water. The pace of the
bodies on the forward swing, though, of course, it does increase, should
feel as if it were slower. _Relatively to the rate of stroke used_, it
is, in fact, slower at a fast than at a slow stroke. The best
stroke-oars have been men who fully realized this, and who, either in
breaking from a paddle into a row, or in spurting during a hard piece of
rowing, gave their crew a delightful sense of steadiness and balance,
which enabled them to put their utmost energies into every stroke.
PRACTICE IN STARTING.
During the week preceding the race a coach should devote a great part of
his attention to the task of getting his crew quick off the mark. If a
crew starts in a brisk and lively manner, and gets pace on its boat
immediately, it is far more likely to continue well, so long as its
strength and condition last, than a crew that ponderously drags its boat
off, with the notion that it can put pace on later. At the end of half a
minute the lively crew would be well ahead--no small moral advantage
where two crews are evenly matched. The best position for the first
stroke is a little more than half forward with the body and three parts
forward with the slide. The mind, as well as the muscles, must be intent
on the effort. At the word "Go" at once cover the blade deeply, spring
the body on to the work, use the arms vigorously on this occasion only,
and, above all, drive, drive, drive with the legs, wrenching the stroke
fully home with outside hand.[10] Then make a special point of rattling
hands out like lightning, and get hold of the second stroke when the
hands are over the stretcher. Again a lightning rattle, followed by a
longer swing. The fourth stroke should be a full one. During the first
two strokes the crew should watch stroke's blade, and take their time
from that.
[10] The simplest and easiest plan is to have the back of the blades
flat on the water while you are waiting for the word. In rowing _with_ a
strong tide it may sometimes be advisable to have the top of the blades
turned over towards the stern and to square blades at the "Are you
ready?" But this requires a lot of practice, and even then generally
causes unsteadiness.
THE NECESSITY OF BEING EXHAUSTED.
I hold it to be absolutely necessary that during practice men should
learn thoroughly to row themselves out. If they do not, they need never
expect to become properly fit for the hard strain involved in a race. If
men will only consent to put their best and hardest work into a practice
course, so that they may feel at the end of it that they have neither
wind nor strength left, I will guarantee that all the subsequent work
will become infinitely easier for them, and the race itself will be a
pleasure instead of a pain. I hate to see a crew finish a practice row,
no matter how short it may be, in perfectly fresh trim. That is a sign
that they must have shirked their work. Yet I have often read in
newspaper reports of the practice of crews some statement like the
following:--"The boat travelled well all through, and the time
accomplished was fast; but when it was over most of the men were much
distressed"--as if this were a reproach instead of a compliment. Such
"distress" is one of the necessary stages through which crews must pass
on their way to good physical condition and perfect racing power. If a
crew never tires itself in practice, it will never row fast in a race.
HOW TO JUDGE A MAN'S WORK IN A BOAT.
This can only be done properly by watching both the movements of the
body and the action of the blade in the water. It may be assumed that if
the blade strikes the water fairly at the full reach, is covered at
once, produces a deep boiling swirl _under_ the water, and remains
covered to the end of the stroke, the oarsman who wields it must be
working, in spite of many possible faults of form. Again, if the body
moves well, and with a vigorous briskness through the stroke, it may be
found that the swirl of the blade through the water does not show
properly, because the blade is put in too deep. This, of course, is a
fault, for the oarsman is giving himself too much work, and the effect
on the propulsion of the boat is smaller; but, at any rate, there is
honesty of intention. On the other hand, a man may make a great show of
form with his body, and a great splash in the water, by merely covering
half his blade through the stroke, or by missing his beginning and
rowing light at the finish; or he may seem to be swinging his body on to
his work, and yet by some subtly contrived disconnection between body
and arms and legs, produce no effect on the water. For all this a coach
must be on the look out. If he has once done hard rowing himself, and
watched it in others, he will never mistake the sham article (the
"sugarer") for the genuine, though possibly clumsy, worker.
THE VALUE OF TUB-PAIR PRACTICE.
Practice in the tub-pair is one of the greatest possible aids towards
the consolidation of an eight-oared crew. A coach or captain should
never omit during the early stages of work to take out his men two by
two in a tub. Sitting at ease in the stern, he can lecture them to his
heart's content, and can devote himself with far better effect than when
his crew are in the Eight to eradicating individual faults and drilling
the men into one uniform style. During the latter part of training,
however, the tub-pair is, with rare exceptions, an unnecessary burden.
The crew then require all their energies for the work of the Eight, in
which they ought to be learning the last important lessons of
watermanship and uniformity every day. To drag them into tub-pairs at
such a time can only weary them.