That person is a “ backseat coxswain.” A coxswain who steers erratically, usually oversteering, is doing “a snake dance down the course.” Speaking of coxswains, there’s usually someone in the boat who thinks that she or he can do at least as good a job as the person with the tiller and offers commentary while rowing. They should be terrified that if they don’t find another gear, another drop of adrenalin, there will be nasty consequences. Finally, reserve your deepest, scariest, calling-hell-hounds-to-heel voice for when you want blood to seep out of your rowers’ pores. It helps to lower your pitch there’s something about a deep bass tone that scares people into pulling harder. Within a piece, a coxswain needs to be crisp and give staccato commands. There’s the all-business tone to get the boat moving. There’s the relaxed-but-alert tone used for commands to pull away from the dock and get spun around. If you are a coxswain, practice your different voices. Don’t ask someone to make a technical change in a conversational tone. Vary the tone and the volume with which you speak to your crew. Don’t yell at your rowers when turning the boat with the same tone that you use for calling a ten. You never should count above 10.Ībove all else, once you have moved beyond the novice stage, coxing is about using your authority properly. I’ve heard coxswains counting “Fifty-two, fifty-three…” It makes me exhausted just to hear them. There’s another deadly thing that a coxswain can do: count out every stroke. “We’re losing,” she droned.” It didn’t help her relationship with the crew, who wanted some excitement, that she also trailed her feet and hands in the water during pieces. I coached a coxswain once who could not get this right. Commands need to be crisp, authoritative, and precise. The tone should not be panicky or nagging or wordy or emotionless. But so is the tone with which commands are given. “From the catch, all eight ready, row.” The order in which those words come is important. Yes, getting the words right is key for a cox, or tiller jockey, in order to make sure that a command isn’t jumbled-commands have a logical sequence -information, preparation, and action. Tone is particularly important for coxswains. His casual reference spoke of ownership, the way I might speak of mayo, a brewski, or Mickey D’s. What was going on here? Obviously, like most jargon, he was showing an easy familiarity with the idea of competing in the Olympic Games, something beyond what most of us at the table could only dream of. Who calls them that? It was inconceivable that he didn’t know they would be in Moscow in 10 months. “Where are the Olys next summer?” one of them asked. I went out to dinner in late 1979 with a couple of guys who were national team veterans. Al Shealy, the stroke of the famed Harvard “Rude and Smooth” crews of the mid-70s, gave an interview where he said, “No matter how much I’m hurting, I know that I’ll always have enough left to punish the blade in the last 500.” Now that’s confidence that’s swagger. Sometimes it isn’t the words that are said that matter most it is how they are uttered. By the way, if you are erging, you might say that you are “ ripping chain,” while steady state on an erg is “ watt farming.” If you do have a good erg, at Williams College they would say you have a “ fat erg.” And we know what a “ skinny erg” would be. Now with the machine’s ascendancy, a good erg means more. Instead of talking about how she is good on the erg, you say, “ She is fast.” In the old days, we used to think of the erg as a measurement tool. A coach with a bunch of appliances might be called “General Electric” or simply “The General.” Any of these rowers might be called a boat killer.Ī newer concept has popped up recently in reference to someone who has a good erg score. And no one wants to be referred to as baggage. There’s quite a rich subgroup here: a toaster oven, a refrigerator, or a Maytag are not people you want in your boat. Some of the best terms are used to describe rowers who are slow and rowers who are fast.Īn anchor is, of course, someone who weighs a boat down, killing its speed. Here’s just a sampler of the inside language and wonky turns of phrase rowers use. However, much of the richness of rowing’s language comes from the jargon bandied about in boathouses, not from programs or coaching manuals. Oh sure, you might get port and starboard confused now and then, and you may need a refresher on the difference between spread and the work-through, but you’ve got the basics down. You don’t need to have catching a crab explained, or be told that check is a bad thing. If you’re reading this, chances are pretty good you are a rower, coxswain, or coach.
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