OF AILMENTS--OF TRAINING AND DIET--OF STALENESS--OF DISCIPLINE--OF
COACHING.
AILMENTS.
I may preface what I have to say about ailments by stating, as
emphatically as it can be stated, that every man who proposes to take
part in a race ought, before he begins practice, to be thoroughly
overhauled by a medical man. I do not believe that any man whose heart
and lungs and general constitution are sound can be injured by rowing.
On the contrary, I have seen scores and scores of instances in which
sound but imperfectly developed youngsters were formed and solidified
and made into robust men by the exercise. But if a doctor reports of an
apparently powerful man that his heart is weak and his circulation
defective, or that the state of his lungs is unsatisfactory, no power on
earth would induce me to include him in my crew. Race-rowing is one of
the severest strains to which a man can submit himself, and only a
perfectly sound man can go through it without taking harm.
Coaches are sometimes ridiculed for the excessive care they take of
their men; and there are not wanting those who draw the inference that
rowing men are peculiarly liable to illness, and suffer, when attacked
by it, more than others. Nothing can be further from the truth. If we
are anxious, it is because we know that for the special strain involved
in racing a man must be in specially good condition, and we desire,
above all things, to avoid anything that may keep him back in his
training and his work. Moreover, even a slight illness may entail
temporary retirement from the crew, and thus necessitate changes in its
order which will prevent the men from getting together.
In rowing hard a man should keep a good colour. If you see him turning
green and yellow, you may be sure that something is wrong with him, and
you must pack him off to the doctor at once. It may turn out that his
digestion is in fault, and that a careful attention to diet is all that
is necessary to cure him. I have seen only two men actually faint
during a race. One of them was a distinguished Oxford Blue, who
collapsed during a heat of the Grand Challenge Cup at Henley; the other
was a college oar rowing in the Cambridge Fours. With regard to him, we
discovered afterwards that he had overtaxed his strength by working in
the Cambridge engineering workshop for about six hours every day. Both
these cases took place a good many years ago, and in neither has any
permanent injury resulted. I have, of course, seen hundreds of men
absolutely rowed out at the end of a race; but, with hardly an
exception, they were perfectly fit a few minutes afterwards and,
possibly, in the course of a few hours they might be seen rowing in
another severe race with unimpaired strength and vitality.
With regard to ailments generally, I cannot do better than quote Mr.
Woodgate in the Badminton book: "A crew should be under strict orders to
report _all_ ailments, if only a blister, _instantly_ to the coach. It
is better to leave _no_ discretion in this matter to the oarsman, even
at the risk of troubling the mentor with trifles. If a man is once
allowed to decide for himself whether he will report some petty and
incipient ailment, he is likely to hush it up, lest it should militate
against his coach's selection of him. The effect of this is that
mischief which might otherwise have been checked in the bud, is allowed
to assume dangerous proportions for want of a stitch in time. An oarsman
should be impressed that nothing is more likely to militate against his
dream of being selected than disobedience to this or any other standing
order. The smallest pimple should be shown forthwith to the
coach"--verily the coach is not only [Greek: dios], but [Greek:
polytlas]--"the slightest hoarseness or tendency to snuffle reported,
any tenderness of joint or sinew instantly made known."
To these golden words I would merely add that in all more serious cases,
such as boils, colds, coughs, severe diarrh[oe]a, or strains, it is best
for the coach not to attempt any amateur doctoring, but to send his
oarsman at once to a qualified doctor. In nearly every large rowing
club, and at the Universities, there are to be found doctors who have
either rowed themselves, or have had long experience of treating the
ailments of rowing men; and it is far better to take their advice,
which, as a rule, does not incline to molly-coddling, than to run the
risk of losing a valuable oar out of the crew through one's own
quackery.
_Blisters._
Blisters are a common accompaniment of the early days of practice. They
are ordinarily innocuous enough if well treated; but a neglected blister
may result in a raw hand, and lead to blood-poisoning. The best plan is
to prick a blister at its side with a clean needle before going to bed,
and on the following day or two to row with a glove and a pad of
cotton-wool over the blister. The skin very soon hardens into a
callosity.
_Boils._
These are a sure sign that the blood is in a bad condition, due probably
to over-eating. They afflict novices much more often than old oars, who
have learnt by experience to diet themselves. A mild dose of Eno's Fruit
Salt before breakfast may be recommended. The quantity of beef and
mutton eaten must be largely reduced. Fish and the dark meat of poultry
should be the staple articles of diet, and not too much of those. Nor
must the mistake be made of making up for the decrease of meat by
over-loading the stomach with immense masses of vegetables, though in
moderation vegetables are excellent. Having thus done his best for the
patient's inside, the coach must send him to a doctor to have the boil
treated externally.
_Diarrh[oe]a._
Cut off fruits of all kinds; reduce meat; give an extra glass of port,
and if the complaint continues, send the afflicted to a doctor.
_Strains._
Ordinary muscular strains generally yield to a good rubbing with an
embrocation. For wrist-strains a leather band may be recommended.
Abdominal strains must be seen to by a doctor.
_Colds._
The best remedy for a severe cold is to give your man at least one day's
complete rest, and make him keep his room. Indeed, with most ailments a
day's rest will work wonders; and it is far better for a coach to make
up his reluctant mind to grant it, than to run the risk of losing a
valuable man altogether by keeping him chained to his oar when he is
unfit to work. However, no man who takes proper care of himself, and
always makes a point of wrapping up when his crew easies, ought to catch
a cold.
TRAINING AND DIET.
The rules of training and diet should be the rules of common sense,
applied to cases in which the body has to prepare itself, by severe work
and perfectly simple, healthy living, for an exceptional effort or
series of efforts. Rules there must be, if only on account of the
advantage that comes of being able to make exceptions to them. But the
chief points must be regularity and simplicity--a regularity, that is,
which shall not entail an unvarying and wearisome monotony, and
simplicity which shall not exclude occasional little luxuries that act
as a stimulus to a man's jaded energies.
I shall give here two tables showing the hours and the dietary of an
Oxford crew training during a little more than five weeks for the race
against Cambridge, and of a Leander crew training for nearly three
weeks for the Grand Challenge race at Henley Regatta.
I. _Oxford Crew._
7 A.M. Out of bed, and without bathing or washing dress
immediately in flannels. A cup of milk and a
biscuit.
7.15 " Out of the house. A brisk walk with one sharp
run of 150 yards.
7.50 " Back to the house. Bath, etc.
8.30 " Breakfast.--Fish, plainly cooked, without sauce.
Soles, whiting, and smelts are best. Salmon
is not allowed. Cutlets or beefsteaks, or grilled
chicken. Eggs, boiled, or poached, or fried,
sometimes scrambled. Mustard and cress, or
water-cress. Toast. Limited amount of butter.
Marmalade is allowed only during the last
fortnight of training. Not more than a cup
and a half of tea.
11 " At Putney, when the state of the tide permits it,
exercise in the boat. It should be noted that
the tide sometimes makes it necessary for the
crew to do its rowing in the morning, sometimes
in the afternoon. Occasionally work can be
done both in the morning and afternoon.
1 P.M. Lunch.--Cold meat. Tomatoes plainly made into
a salad with oil and vinegar. Toast. Small
quantity of butter. Oatmeal biscuits. One
glass of draught beer, or claret and water.
3 or 4 " (according to tide). Work in the boat.
6.30 " Dinner.--Fish, as at breakfast. An _entr['e]e_ of
pigeons, or sweetbread, or spinach and poached
eggs. Roast joint (not pork or veal), or else
chicken, with potatoes, mashed or boiled, and
boiled vegetables. Stewed fruit with rice puddings.
Sometimes jelly. Two glasses of draught
beer, or claret and water. For dessert, figs,
prunes, oranges, dry biscuits, and one glass of
port wine.
9.50 P.M. A glass of lemon and water, or a cup of water-gruel.
10 " Bed.
(_Note._--Once or twice during training there is a "champagne
night," when champagne is substituted for beer or claret and water;
but this only occurs when the crew have been doing very hard work,
or when they show evident signs of being over-fatigued, and require
a fillip.)
II. _Leander Training at Henley._
7 to 8.30 A.M. Same as in previous table.
8.30 A.M. Breakfast.--Same as in previous table, save for
the frequent absence of meat. Marmalade
allowed. Strawberries or peaches without
sugar; no cream.
10.30 or 11, or 12 P.M. Out on the water.
1.30 P.M. Lunch.--Same as in previous table.
4.45 " Cup of tea with a slice of bread and butter, or a
biscuit.
5.30 or 6 P.M. Out on the water.
7.30 or 8 " Dinner.--Same as in previous table.
9.50 P.M. Same as in previous table.
10.15 " Bed.
(_Note._--With most Leander crews, which are composed of experienced
oarsmen, it has been found possible to abolish restrictions on the
amount of liquor, and to allow the men to take what they want to
satisfy their thirst, which at Henley time is naturally more severe
than it is in the early spring at Putney. With a college crew of
younger and less experienced oars such liberty of action is not to
be recommended; but a trainer ought, during hot weather, to tell his
men that if they really want an extra half-glass or so, they are not
to hesitate to ask for it. Men in training will, however, generally
find that if they exercise a little self-control during the first
few days of training, when the restriction on their drink seems
specially painful, their desire for drink will gradually diminish,
until at last they are quite content with their limited allowance.
If, on the contrary, they perpetually indulge themselves, they will
always be wanting more. On this point I may cite the authority of
the following remarks extracted from a recent article in the
_British Medical Journal_:--
"Among the various discomforts entailed upon us by the hot weather
is thirst, which leads to many accidents. First and most especially
is the danger arising from the ingestion of ices and cold drinks,
which so many people fly to directly they feel hot. Difficult as it
may be to explain in precise physiological terms the evil
consequences which so often follow the sudden application of cold to
the mucous membrane of the stomach when the body is over-heated,
there is no doubt about the fact, and people would do well to
remember the risk they run when they follow their instinct, and
endeavour to assuage their thirst by huge draughts of cold fluids.
There can be but little doubt that the profuse perspiration which is
the cause of so many dangers is greatly aggravated by drinking, and
especially by drinking alcoholic fluids. No one can watch a tennis
match without noticing how the men perspire, while the girls hardly
turn a hair. Some, perhaps, will say that the girls play the feebler
game; but, game or no game, they exert themselves. The same also may
be seen at any dance. The secret is that the men follow their
instinct and slake their thirst, while the girls simply bear it. It
should be remembered that thirst is the result of want of fluid in
the blood, not want of fluid in the stomach, and that a pint or more
may be drunk before a single ounce is absorbed. Any attempt, then,
to assuage thirst by rapid drinking must of necessity lead to far
more being taken than is wanted, the moral of which is that if we
must drink, at least let us drink slowly."
Besides asking his men to drink slowly, a coach will do well to see
that they take no drink at all before they have eaten a certain
amount of food. Between meals, except as set out in the tables given
above, no drink of any kind should be allowed.
Over-eating, too, is a very common danger, especially in the case of
youngsters, and a coach must warn his crew severely against it.)
A captain ought to be specially strict in insisting on getting his men
out of their beds at a fixed time, and in seeing that they do not stay
up too late at night. Absolute punctuality all round ought to be rigidly
enforced. If, however, anybody should resent the severities entailed by
this dietary, and pine for freedom, he may be recommended to try what I
may call the Ouida system. It is fully set out in "Under Two Flags,"
from which, in a spirit of humble admiration, I venture to give an
extract:--
"'Beauty don't believe in training. No more do I. Never would train for
anything,' said the Seraph, now pulling the long blonde moustaches that
were not altogether in character with his seraphic cognomen. 'If a man
can ride, let him. If he's born to the pig-skin he'll be in at the
distance safe enough, whether he smoke or don't smoke, drink or don't
drink. As for training on raw chops, giving up wine, living like the
very deuce, and all as if you were in a monastery, and changing yourself
into a mere bag of bones--it's utter bosh. You might as well be in
purgatory; besides, it's no more credit to win then than if you were a
professional.'
"'But you must have trained at Christ Church, Rock, for the Eight?'
asked another Guardsman, Sir Vere Bellingham--'Severe,' as he was
christened, chiefly because he was the easiest-going giant in existence.
"'Did I! Men came to me; wanted me to join the Eight. Coxswain came,
awful strict little fellow, docked his men of all their fun--took plenty
himself, though! Coxswain said I must begin to train, do as all his crew
did. I threw up my sleeve and showed him my arm;' and the Seraph
stretched out an arm magnificent enough for a statue of Milo. 'I said,
There, sir, I'll help you thrash Cambridge, if you like, but train I
_won't_ for you or for all the University. I've been captain of the Eton
Eight; but I didn't keep my crew on tea and toast. I fattened 'em
regularly three times a week on venison and champagne at Christopher's.
Very happy to feed yours, too, if you like--game comes down to me every
Friday from the Duke's moors; they look uncommonly as if they wanted it!
You should have seen his face! Fatten the Eight! He didn't let me do
that, of course; but he was very glad of my oar in his rowlocks, and I
helped him beat Cambridge without training an hour myself, except so far
as rowing hard went.'
"And the Marquis of Rockingham, made thirsty by the recollection, dipped
his fair moustaches into a foaming seltzer.
"'Quite right, Seraph!' said Cecil. 'When a man comes up to the weights,
looking like a homonunculus after he's been getting every atom of flesh
off him like a jockey, he ought to be struck out for the stakes, to my
mind.'"
The obvious inference from this is that if we want to avoid looking like
"homonunculi" we must acquire dukes as fathers, and get fattened on
venison and champagne.
SMOKING.
There are no smokes in training.
STALENESS.
In the practice of almost every crew there comes a period, generally
about half way through training, when they begin to show the effects of
hard work by a certain lassitude and loss of vigour. This, in fact, is
not genuine staleness, but is the half-way house to perfect condition.
An experienced coach can always detect the signs of it amongst his men.
Their tempers will be short, they will begin to mope about the room, and
their general manner will betray languor and listlessness, instead of
that brisk cheerfulness that one has a right to expect. Their appetite
will decrease, and at meals they will dally with their food instead of
consuming it with a hearty zest. If a coach is blind to these signs, and
pursues, in spite of them, the scheme of work and diet which he may have
laid down at the first, he will probably bring to the post a crew as
stale and lifeless as London shrimps. If, however, he grants certain
indulgences to those who are most affected; if he lets them lie in bed
of a morning, adds a basin of soup to their lunch or dinner, gives them
extra liquor, or champagne in place of their ordinary liquor, and eases
the work of the crew all round, he will probably find that within three
days they will be perfectly brisk and fit again. I remember the case of
an Oxford crew which showed the worst symptoms of staleness on a Friday.
Saturday to Monday they spent in Brighton, and returned so
reinvigorated, that on the following Wednesday they were able in the
race to row Cambridge down at Chiswick and win by a length. For extreme
cases of what I call genuine staleness, I do not think there is any
remedy except complete rest for a period more or less prolonged. I have
seen instances of this at Henley amongst University oarsmen, who had had
practically no rest since the previous October.
DISCIPLINE.
Not the least important point in the management of a crew lies in the
preservation of strict discipline. While they are in the boat and
engaged in rowing, no man, except the captain or the cox, should speak a
word, unless he is appealed to by the coach. A wise captain, too, when
he has a coach in whom he trusts, will content himself with saying very
little indeed. To be constantly cursing his crew, or to be shouting
directions to them from the boat, not only irritates the other men, but
increases all the difficulties of a coach. To "answer back" a coach is a
capital offence, which ought to lead to immediate removal from the crew.
I can only remember one instance of it in all my experience, and that
was promptly followed by a humble apology. Silence, prompt obedience,
absolute subordination of the individual self to the collective good of
the crew, a quick and hearty willingness in endeavouring to carry out
orders or instructions, a cheerful temper when things are going awry,
and a constant keenness whether in rowing or paddling--these are model
qualities which will go far to make a man a valuable oar. Nothing has so
bad an effect upon a crew as the display of moroseness or sullenness on
the part of one of its members. If that member should chance to be the
captain, the baneful effects are increased tenfold. There are times of
inattention and slackness when a coach does well to be angry, and to
bring his men sharply back to a knowledge of their duty.
THE COACH.
I cannot deal with this subject at any length, for good coaching is a
matter of temperament, sympathy, tact, and intelligence--qualities that
cannot be taught. The man who has these necessary qualities, and adds to
them a wide experience of rowing, can never go very far wrong in
coaching a crew. If a man can once establish between himself and his
crew that subtle bond which comes of their conviction that their welfare
and success are his chiefest desire, and that everything he says is
absolutely right, the rest will be comparatively easy. A few simple
hints may, however, be given.
(1) Never nag at your crew, or at an individual. Point out his fault;
explain to him as clearly as you can how he ought to correct it, and
then leave him alone for a bit. Never weary your men with an incessant
stream of talk. Periods of complete silence on your part are very
valuable, to you and to the crew.
(2) If you see signs of improvement in a man whom you have been
correcting, never fail to tell him so. A little encouragement of this
kind has more effect than heavy loads of objurgation.
(3) Rebuke any carelessness very sharply, but always keep strong
measures, such as taking a crew back to the start, for really serious
emergencies.
(4) Show no partiality, and make as little difference as you can between
man and man. It is useful to begin by coaching old hands with some
severity. New hands are encouraged by feeling that even a Blue or a
Grand Challenge winner is liable to error, and that a coach is not
afraid to tackle these eminent men.
(5) Make a gallant effort never to lose your temper with an individual,
though loss of temper with a crew as a whole need not always be avoided.
When things go wrong in a crew, impress upon each and every man that he
is individually responsible for the defects. Every man is probably doing
something wrong, and in any case a determined and united attempt to row
better can do no harm.
(6) Never tell your men that they are rowing "well," or " better," when
these statements are contrary to the truth. The men in the boat can
generally feel what is happening as well as you can see it from the bank
or the launch, and they are apt to lose confidence in a man who talks
smooth things when everything is rough.
(7) Never confuse a man by telling him more than one thing at a time
while he is rowing. When the crew has easied you can lecture him and
them more at length.
(8) Remember Dr. Warre's rule, that general exhortations, such as
"Time," "Beginning," "Smite," "Keep it long," and the like, are to be
given at the right moment, not used as mere parrot cries.
(9) Vary the tone of your voice as much as possible.
(10) Vary, if possible, the expressions you use in pointing out and
correcting faults.
(11) Always insist on your crew putting on their wraps when they easy
after rowing hard.
(12) Never allow men during summer training to stand, sit, or lie about
in the full blaze of the sun.
(13) Teach by example as well as by precept. The coach should be able to
take his seat in a gig pair, and to show his men practically the style
he wishes them to row in, and how their faults may be corrected.
(14) Always remember, while paying attention to the form of individuals,
that your main object is to secure uniformity in the crew. Never fail,
therefore, to correct faults of time instantly.