C.J.R.C.
In victory and defeat there can be honor. However, this is not the case for the event that occurred on April 7th 2011. I empathize with those athletes who had spent countless hours training and were robbed of a fair competition. Blood, sweat, and tears are an integral part of rowing. Mentally and physically you push your body and test your own boundaries. Every day. Every stroke. All in the hopes of increasing that threshold so that you can repeat the process when you return to do it again the next day. These athletes had faced a long, grueling selection process and while some may be able to return to rematch their rival or perhaps go on to compete at on an international stage, for most this would likely be the pinnacle of their rowing career. For the Cambridge team that ultimately won, their victory feels cheap, their celebrations muted. It was an upset that wasn’t earned. For Oxford, it will be a black mark on their record. A lifetime of wondering “what if?”.
Trenton Oldfield either doesn’t care about these facts or he doesn’t understand them. Either way, what will likely become one of many public disturbance violations in his quest to eradicate inequality and nepotism (a pursuit I innately do agree with), this attempt was futile in making any demonstrated progress for his cause. What can we learn from this? Perhaps, most notably not to protest a sport that has made marked progress in terms of accessibility based on a history of elitism. My experience is a testament to how a scrappy team from “flyover” states can build a program that consistently beats the New England prep schools and powerhouse west coast crews.
This aerial shot shows the Licking River flowing North towards the Ohio. We would launch from under the bridge and first row upstream, against the current.
Occasionally we would venture out onto the Ohio River because the stronger current and lack of insolation from strong winds and other elements provided a larger challenge in terms of building strength and needing finesse to keep the boat “set”. However, there was a greater risk because of the large amount of barge traffic pushed dangerous wakes in our direction and large debris could tear the skeg (rowing jargon for the rudder—used by the coxswain to steer) off the bottom of the boat. Most of the time we returned to the boathouse from the Ohio unscathed, however, in my novice year we were waked by a passing barge directly under a bridge and in order to keep us from crashing into the cement was unable to get the boat parallel to the wake. The consequence was that our boat cracked in half and began to take on water. Since modern boats are made out of carbon fiber and the oars were still locked into place, the shell only sunk about an inch from the surface of the water. After the coaches had pulled us from the shell and dropped us off at the nearest embankment, they slowly rigged up a tugging mechanism and maneuvered the broken shell back to our dock. Ultimately, we repaired that boat and sold it to another team, however, it was one of the most distinct moments among so many memories. It’s a story that gets passed down from varsity members to novice even still as one of the greatest blunders committed by a novice crew.
Rowing Still Elite? As if!
I’m the proud product of Cincinnati Junior Rowing Club, an elite Midwest club rowing program that is a slight misnomer because the club for the majority of the season actually operates across the Ohio River and launches from a tributary of the Ohio called the Licking River. All my life I had competed in athletic endeavors and competitions. Gymnastics. Soccer. Dressage. Volleyball. Basketball. Softball. How did I end up giving all these up and winding up rowing? As my interests and skills whittled down this long list of sports to just volleyball and basketball by my freshman year of highschool, I had gotten pretty burnt out on spending my weekends stuck inside massive gyms for tournaments out of town. I felt limited because there were only so many choices offered in my small all-girls catholic prep school. I wanted to be involved and active and was looking for something new and exciting--something unique and challenging. And this is when someone suggested that I look at rowing as an option. From the first day I went I loved it. With an athletic resume I found early success and was able to distinguish myself among my peers. However, my peers more than ever before were diverse. They were men and women with different temperaments, from various socio-economic backgrounds, lived all over Cincinnati and Kentucky, attended public and private schools alike—yet despite all these differences, we had one common link and bond through rowing. Even those who were less athletic and could be considered more “participants” rather than “competitors” were equal teammates and valuable members of the team. These still remain some of my closest friends and confidants and without rowing I'm positive I would never have had the extended opportunity to get close to them.
What CJRC has managed to achieve since it's foundation is nothing short of amazing. It has built a competitive program that has constantly been underestimated by pundits and competitors. As seen in the video above, we have won nationals so consistently that recognition has now been earned when it had not been offered. I think it's better this way. You can't have "cincinnationals" with out Cincinnati. Had I been in either of the boats during Oldfield's protest I believe I would have reacted similarly to oarsman William Zeng, it was a profound mockery of individual's working hard and in a dedicated manner to work as a collective unit, something that should never be discounted or protested.
