This is a fuller version of the article by Rowley Douglas which was printed in last year's Newsletter. New material comes not only at the end, so it seemed best to re-print the whole updated article.
Actually putting something like this in print is a more difficult task than I had imagined. Anyone without an Olympic medal, (myself 2.5 weeks ago), would probably describe the feeling as exhilarating, fantastic, great, brilliant, ecstatic, etc.
Having done it, I can tell you, that you will struggle to find words to really describe your reaction to what has happened. The first thing that happens is a powerful emotion, which not many people will ever experience. Following that is a mix between raw competitive aggression and relief. Then, which is still what I feel now, is disbelief. I keep expecting to wake up and find that the final is actually today, and I have over-slept!
How did I get here? Is a question you may wonder about? It all came down to a simple phone call from Steven Williams in early 1996. Steve and I had rowed together at Monkton in both successful and unsuccessful crews; we had also become good friends. Steve went directly to Oxford Brookes University, where he enjoyed immediate success, which made me very jealous! I was due to take a "gap year", but I had no idea about what to do during it. I had a call from Steve, saying they had no coxes at Brookes and did I want to come down to a training camp in the freezing cold at Exmouth. I had nothing to do, so agreed. The long and the short of it is that the Coach, (Richard Spratley), was short of coxes and I was not completely useless.
Before I talk about my time at Oxford Brookes University, I will start briefly with what came before that. I joined rowing at Monkton in late 1990. The reason was because I love the water. You must always try to go with what you love doing. A coach and friend of mine, Adrian Gayner, forced me into the coxing seat. This was to turn out to be the best thing I have ever done. I was in the Novices for one year and then the Second Eight for one year. The final three years I was in the First Eight.
These were great times, and in some ways they helped me become what I am now, individual and freethinking. I had great guidance from Adrian, Julian Bewick, Brian Mawer, and Godfrey Bishop. I can call all of those people my friends. I only wish Adrian was alive today to thank and share my success with. I have known three people, who have influenced my personality and ability, who have suffered from the same terrible disease. Adrian who I have already mentioned, Peter LeRoy, (the ex-Headmaster of Monkton Junior School), and Harry Mahon, (assistant coach to the GB Eight). They are all people who are fighters and truly appreciate life. I unfortunately waited too long to return to Monkton and thank Adrian.
I was treated pretty well by a group of people who were of abilities ranging from national team to novice. These were people who were always aiming to be the best, never to lose. When you start winning you become a target. Everyone, even in your own club wants to beat you. I was now beginning to realise that I did not want to have a gap year at all. Richard organised with the University that I should be able to come at the beginning of the second term of 1996. The university had already given me a place for the following year, so agreed to let me come early.
I had left Great Britain for a holiday to Africa before starting college in March. This was to be my first lesson in becoming the best. If you are not around to prove yourself every day, then quite simply, someone else will be! I was a very ignorant schoolboy to think that these guys were all going to go on holiday because term was over. They wanted to win, and to do that you have to be on the job every day.
I returned from Africa only to find that an ex-Oxford cox had moved into what I thought was going to be my slot. The real problem was that she was experienced and aggressive, this made her pretty good. It took me the rest of the year to really make any noticeable impact on her. Every day was competitive, every day held racing, blade clashing, lost tempers. The most important thing was that every day I was learning, gathering more experience, and every day I turned up to training, and was not in the top boat, was another driving factor to make me want to improve.
The end of 1996 was the Home Countries Regatta, Strathclyde, Scotland. It is similar to the Rugby Grand Slam, (England, Scotland, Wales, and Ireland). The Oxford Brookes Eight had been chosen to represent England on the day that turned out to be Historical for British rowing. Steve Redgrave won his Fourth consecutive Olympic Gold medal. We new this as we made our way up to the starting blocks. The crew was extremely fired up, and when the start buzzer went, all the other crews went about three times our speed! We clearly were going to have to do some work on our start. This was not the end however: despite being clear water down at 500m to go we managed a frightening finish and won by about 10 inches. This was a real turn around for me; people who were experienced racers now trusted me, I had held together under pressure, and we had won a race by nothing when the chips were down. I remember afterwards the Irish cox finding me and saying that in the final 500m all he could hear was me and he could hear in my voice that he was not going to win. I don't like compliments, but I liked that one, and I used it to build my confidence.
The result at the end of 1996 had given me a good springboard into 1997. I did not really have a break between the two seasons. I was starting to believe that if I could do the Home Countries then I may well be able to do the Under 23 Great Britain team as well.
The first goal was to start to break down the other cox at Oxford Brookes, and establish myself as the first choice. This started with immediate effect, and had immediate effect. The only problem I ran into was yet another experienced and aggressive cox who showed up at Brookes. He had been in some of the top South African club boats. Competition again became very fierce on a daily basis. The year became very much divided between the two of us, one race for him and one for me, etc. The end of the year ended in one more year's worth of experience and a chance to represent Great Britain in the Men's Coxed Four. The under-23 World Championships were held in Milan, Italy. The result was that we finished an unimpressive 5th. The best thing about the year was that I had made a national team appearance (got my foot in the door), and become probably the number one choice at my home club.
The year of 1998 was to hold the hardest times so far, as well as the best so far. It's funny how you can look back on it like that, now everything has turned out good. In 1997 I had done the Women's Head of the river Race with a crew that comprised some of the top women rowers and was coached by the Women's national coach. This had helped my credibility one more step. In this year I was invited back to race with the same women's crew. The task this time was to turn over the reigning champions and win the entire event, which we did. The important thing was that my name was getting around and it had no black marks against it.
Things at Brookes continued to move along with me being the first choice. This was good but some of the other Brookes rowers were making progress into the senior national team. This made me jealous, as I to wanted now to be considered. At the beginning of 1998 I paid my own way to the team training camp in Belgium. This was very frustrating as everyone was trialing and being considered except for me; I was just a guy hanging around. I listened, learned and talked to the right people - everyone. One of the conversations I had was with the team manager. He told me that getting in to the national team, especially the Eight would be an uphill battle which he advised me not to waste my time with. I cannot express to you how angered I was by this. He was one of the top people in the rowing world. If you talk to most of my teachers, they can probably tell you that I only listened to what I wanted to, if anything at all, and that is exactly what I did. The team manager had really made me realise that I wanted to be in the national eight - after all it was the only boat that would go to the Olympics with a cox in it.
Munich Regatta was the first Senior International regatta of 1998. I was given a lucky break when one of the best coxes in Britain was unable to go. Through the achievements I had so far made, I was given the opportunity to have a go in the British National Lightweight Men's Eight. I was lucky to get the opportunity to do this, as politics suggested that someone else was "supposed" to do it. This meant I really needed to make a good impression. I disappeared from University for about 15 days, trained hard, listened hard, pulled all of the stops out, and returned from Munich regatta with a Gold Medal - nice one! Yet again all I had achieved was some very good feed back and good things attached to my name. This is frustrating when the real fight, (for the Heavyweight Eight), is still going on between two other people, and the lightweight eight has a regular cox who will be back.
I am probably boring you by now so briefly the rest of 1998 went as follows: Win the Henley Royal regatta with Oxford Brookes, race at Ioannina, Greece, for the Under-23 Team and come 4th, reflect on year as not very successful until another call from Steve Williams who is representing GB in the Senior Team. The call went as follows:
Steve: We need a coach/someone to look out for us during the training camp and world championships.
Rowley: OK This was a real turning point again. Everyone probably knew that I was not qualified to do the job; however the very fact that I was there was good enough for most athletes to think that someone must trust me. The boat Steve was in was the Coxless Pair; his partner was another guy from Brookes (Fred Scarlett). They ended up coming in sixth out of about 22 boats. This was extremely impressive in their first World Champs. I have to say that the reason they came 6th was because Steve and his partner were very hard and very determined, it had near nothing to do with me, I was just there in Koln.
It was now half distance through the Olympic Cycle (2 years). The same guy had coxed the Eight for both of those years. They had come 4th in 1997 and 7th in 1998.
The boat was not in a strong position at the end of 1998. I felt that I was and if I didn't have the boat in 1999 I wouldn't have it at all. I will not bore you with more of the details of tactics and turning points; I will simply get to the point. I wrote a letter to the team manager stating that I wished to be considered for the Mens Eight, and believed I was at least good enough to be trialed. They agreed to this at the beginning of 1999, told me I could train with the eight for about two weeks and have a race at the end of it.
The race was the annual match between GB and France. The French sent their best eight athletes; we sent our newly formed eight. The race is 5 km on the Seine, between Notre Dame and the Eiffel Tower. The British crews have never done well here and nobody thought we would. The crews crossed the line within 1 ft of each other; unfortunately they got there first. I thought that was possibly curtains for me. The crew and coaches voted overwhelmingly in favour of me a few days later. I now had to really drive the point home that I was the best, you only stay selected as long as you keep proving it.
Training twice a day is a new concept for me, which I have embraced. Every day there is the chance for more information, more experience. It is hard because I am coming from Oxford to London every morning in the 'rush hour'. Some mornings I am finding myself falling asleep at the wheel half way there. I am with people I dont know and it is something I want so badly I cannot afford to screw it up. Hazlewinkel, Belgium, 1999, Race 1 of the World Cup. This was a stress free environment due to the fact that only six boats had entered, (only 6 boats are in an international final), and our coach, Martin McElroy, had made it a very low-key event. The emphasis was on the process rather than the outcome. (Those are words that the team psychiatrist would be proud to know I had used.) The result was a 2-ft loss to the Romanian National Team. Mission accomplished as far as technical result is concerned, however - we still lost.
The result of this race was to find more than just a very fast race pace though the middle kilometre; this was not enough, we needed a very fast start and a very fast finish as well. Vienna, Austria, World Cup Race 2. This time we lost to the Romanians again by a bigger margin. The margin had no real meaning, but we knew that progress had not really been made at the rate needed.
Henley Royal Regatta, 1999. The British Eight has never done well here, and we were not about to change that. The German National Eight had not been seen all year and had chosen this as their first Regatta. They beat us by about 1 length. This was an Eight, which had the hopes of Germany resting on it, they were the ultimate German boat, they should not have beaten us. We allowed the German Eight to beat us because they were the Germans. This was embarrassing to say the least. After the race one of the crew pointed out that we were on a roll and not to forget that. Lucerne Regatta was in one week and it was the most important International other than the World Championships.
Lucerne, Switzerland, World Cup Race 3. The mission was to go out with a serious attack in the first 500m and waste the Romanians at their own game. With only 250 metres to the finish the Romanians exploded and so did we. The Dutch however went on to beat the World record, again. This was the ultimate turning point. We had realised how hard we could go in the first quarter; we now had to attach the middle 1000-metre rhythm.
The next round at Lucerne was clinical and precise. I cannot even remember the opposition. They were of no consequence. The race was executed as we wanted and it was a clear victory.
To this day I don't believe that anyone really thought we could prove that we were fast. Lucerne is where you can do that. We got off to a reasonable start, raced a good race and came in a close second to the Russian National Team. Everyone else was now behind us. We had finally taken out the Romanians and the Russians were beatable, next stop World Champs.
You may be wondering why I am happy with the string of second places. We made progress through each race, eventually the Romanians fell and so to did the Russians.
We were able to hold a constant curve of improvement, leading to a consistent speed. St. Catherine's. Canada, World Rowing Championships. This is what the year is about. Round one is less than impressive. The Russians get the drop on us and we have to go through the repechage qualification system. Round two is a clinical display of good rowing with us 1 length up at half way. Half way is important in St. Catherines, as it is where all of the coaches and athletes watch the racing. This means we sent a message to these people.
The Final of the Champs was a nerving experience. I am not afraid to admit that, it was my first time, and we had a chance. It wasn't like we were lucky to be there, we really had a chance.
The race was epic. The American Eight, (defending double champions), went out of the start gates to an immediate lead of one length. Through the middle km we hauled them back and then, overtook them with 500m remaining. The American crew gave an incredible response to this. They re-accelerated and passed us with 400m remaining. This is unheard of in rowing. I had the greatest respect for the Americans after that. I and my crewmates would have to settle for the first silver medals a British Eight had achieved for 25 years. This was great for a while but then I started to realise that we were very close to the ultimate goal...to create the ultimate speed on the day of judgement. We had nearly managed it, but not quite, realistically, whatever the press said about us, we were still the first losers.
The year 2000 was a year when I knew we could win. I also had a much better idea of how to achieve that goal, an idea of how we could increase the speed of our boat. The race in St. Catherines allowed me to know very briefly, what it is like to be on top of the world. We lead the race, it wasnt for long, it was the ultimate feeling and I could only speculate how the Americans had felt when they actually won the whole thing.
The annual Paris match was the initial staging point for our campaign. The goal, to bury the French Eight in front of their enormous home crowd. Most importantly we had to row efficiently and prove that we were making progress with our technique. The French had the jump on us off the start. Around 15 strokes later we had already begun accelerating past them at a surprising speed. A kilometre, of the 5km Race, had not gone when we were clear of them. The race plan was determined by myself as we progressed round the bends of the Seine, and it was executed aggressively by the eight men sitting in front of me. The French fought to the finish but were never in danger of coming past us. This was a good start; however, I was unimpressed by some of the things that had transpired during the race. These were things done by myself and by the crew. Thinking like this allows me to find areas of improvement. I was pleased to have won, but one must always seek to go faster for less money.
The first multi-lane regatta was the Munich World Cup race. Day one of the regatta saw us row a solid race and finish first. As we warmed down after the race, I think we made the mistake of too much self-congratulation too early. Day 2 of the regatta saw a completely different GB Eight race. We were pretty much dead last out of the start and managed to salvage a silver medal by the finish line. We had beaten ourselves, and allowed the Croatian team a big confidence boost.
The next world cup race was to be held in Vienna. The Croatians were not going to be there, as a result of them having to still complete the Olympic Qualification Regatta, which was quickly approaching. The Australians were there however; they had not been in the Munich regatta. In the first round of the regatta we were about 30 seconds away from sinking. The weather was diabolical. At about 1500 metres gone, a wave came into the boat a hit one of the crew so hard he came off his seat and spent nearly 35 seconds fixing it. We still won by almost two lengths! The reason for this was that the weather was so bad the other crews gave up after we took a lead of almost 5 lengths. It was comedy, to still win after all of these things; the best bit was that the officials called us to have a spot weight check on the boat afterwards. We had taken on a couple hundred kg of water during the race, almost sunk, and they thought we were cheating with the weight of our boat! This reinforces my belief that giving some idiot a mega-phone and fancy jacket does not qualify them to be an official.
This was our first international win as a crew and the first for a British Eight in a long while. We learnt a very valuable lesson that day. It was not to be understood until later. It was a lesson in physiology, I will explain later. The next venue for us to race was the Henley Royal Regatta. A race that the British Eight has not won for a long time. The Australians were the only other crew to enter. I have won Henley once; it is a nice race because of the fact all of your friends etc. can be there. I do however really not like Henley.
The race warm up was average, the race was embarrassing. We lost the race by about two lengths, to a very fired up Australian crew. The lesson I referred to earlier was learnt the hard way. After Vienna we had cheered and carried on as if we had just won the Olympics. This angered the Australians into giving us a good kicking. At this level you cannot afford to give anything away, winding up your opposition is a dangerous game.
The next stop was Lucerne Regatta, the final of the World Cup series. It had everyone except the American Eight. The Americans did send a second boat, this was to act as a test boat for the American Coach. Between each of the regattas I have mentioned, we were changing the crew by one person, on the Bow side, each time. This regatta was to be the final selection. Lucerne was a real test of everyone involved. The first races had seen the Australian crew go directly to the final, in heat one. Heat two had seen us go directly to the final.
The race we raced in the first round was good; it saw us win very comfortably, with a time slightly slower than the Australians. The next two days were good training. We had the boat moving very fast, things were looking good for us to do well. On the day of the final, one of the strongest members of our crew went out with a back injury. This meant we either pulled out so that we did not allow ourselves to be possibly beaten, or, we could go for it and race with a spare man. The decision was made in favour of really going for it with a reserve on board. If one person was doubting, this would backfire. The next test was that we were not allowed to know who the spare man was until we boated for the race. This was an odd situation to be in, standing down at the course waiting to find out who was racing with us. We thought it would be Greg Searle, as he was waiting with us in his kit. He didn't know either, "I was just told to be here ready", is all Greg could say. The Redgrave Coxless Four came past in a dismal fourth place, which is I think where they finished. Eventually the Four returned to the dock, cold, wet, and not happy. This is when we found out who was in the crew for our race. The choice in order of preference was James Cracknell, Matthew Pinsent, Greg Searle. James agreed to do it and came straight over to our boat, changed his clothes, and we went straight out on the water. The aim was still the same with this race, the final race before the Olympic games. A shortened and simplified race warm up was executed well. There have not been many times I have looked down my lane and seen the silence. This was one of those times. When the buzzer went we %&$#@! went, 57 strokes per minute, which came down to about 39/40 for the duration. A one-length lead over the field by half way, was reduced to about three feet on the finish line. The Australians were too late! We had beaten the odds. I was not happy with the result from a physical point of view. The psychological effect was good, leaving everyone to go to the Olympics wondering what might have happened had we not had a spare etc, etc. The physical problem I had was that I knew we could have won by more, and I was very displeased with my final quarter racing. I got home to London late that same evening, to be congratulated by my girlfriend Tana, and then asked what I really thought by Steve Williams. I said what I thought.
Steve said after watching the race on TV, with my girlfriend, he knew that I would say exactly those words. I always want to win by more, it is how I make myself improve.
The crew was announced a couple of days later. It was the crew that raced in Lucerne, with the obvious exception of James Cracknell. This was not an easy day for me, even worse for Steve Williams. We drove back from the rowing centre in silence and did not really speak much during the day. His dream had almost certainly now ended. It had ended in England, not in Australia during racing, not at the Olympics. I was glad when Tana came back from work that night, because to be honest I really did not know what to say to Steve. I had to believe in the Eight guys who had been chosen, I had to be upbeat, and excited. If I wasn't it would slow my progress down.
The training leading up to our departure for Australia was excellent. You know when a rowing boat is moving quick, you feel it, you see it, you hear it. The pre-Olympic training camp was held on the Gold Coast. We had a reservoir we could use, and all possible physiologists, doctors, etc. The camp had some moments of excellent speed, but it was inconsistent. We were not moving consistently as well as we had done in GB. This was playing with my nerve, it was a hard 3 weeks. Tempers flared and shouting matches were had. There were funny times but they were not frequent. Everyone had something on their mind.
It was the 14th of September when we made the move to the Olympic Village from our holding camp. It is important not to let your emotions get the better of you when you enter the Games. Sure you don't want to be a stiff, but at the same time it is not the time to be running around like an over-excited school kid. The village was amazing, it was like a small town, completely sealed from the outside world. There are Games zones and coffee zones, the list goes on and on. Every possible distraction is there to help prevent you from winning.
The opening ceremony is a bizarre occasion. Carefully choreographed to give the best visual impact. It is very much more formal than the closing ceremony. Probably the best things about it were walking into the stadium with Matthew Pinsent carrying the Union Flag, Cathy Freeman lighting the flame, and the actual visual impact of the flame burning for the first time at the top of the stadium. It is very true that you are at the Olympic Games, and you really know it stay CALM.
I will simply cut to the chase now. I should imagine anyone who has read this far might well be bored by now. The first round of the Olympics was Australia, Great Britain, Canada, and Russia. The Australians were super-charged, and we thought we were going to win. The truth is we were not fired up and we were not communicating well with each other. Things had happened which I cannot discuss. The long and the short of it is we got whipped. I was embarrassed to have represented my country and showed such a poor performance. I like to imagine people I know and dont know watching me. It gives me a pressure that I love. When you lose, it means you have let all of those people down.
The first round result was a big turning point for us; it probably gave us the fuel we needed to win the event. The Australians now had one week till they saw us again; we had one week and a race in between before we raced the final.
The training was very hard and very aggressive before the repechage. There were serious moments of tension and swearing. I was really at my best in this time, I love aggression and pressure, and I really love it when the chips are down. The morning of the rep. saw the real GB Eight. We destroyed the opposition. A serious message was sent out to everyone, ourselves included. We were really showing the beginning of true speed. The rep. saw the reigning Olympic Champions, (Holland), finish their bid, the Canadians also bowed out. The final was going to be between Italy, GB, Australia, Croatia, USA, and Romania. We had to remember that everyone starts level, everyone has a chance.
I was seeing the race unfolding how it did, every day before the final. I knew how to win; I had shown myself over and over, in my mind. This was not going to be just a pipe dream.
The morning of the race I woke up and sat on my bed. I told myself that today was going to be a good day because I made it a good day. I believed this, and with good reason. Luck, in my opinion, is a dirty word. There is no such thing, and fate is the same. We tread our own paths, because of a desire to do so, nothing more.
The moments I had with the crew prior to the race are our own. The right things were said and done. When the buzzer went we were gone. First to every mark, 250, 500, 750, 1000, etc. Get in front in the first 500m, maintain the most efficient speed in the second 500m, attack with ultimate power in the third 500m, and hold on for the final 500m. The first and third 500m were the real deciding factors. It was not luck that we won, we won because we not only could win, but we wanted to win. I had seen the silence before the race, I felt as if I had already seen the race.
I hope that I do not sound arrogant, I try hard not to, I am telling it how it was. I am able to really say that I am the best in the world at what I do. I am proud to have done it wearing The Union Flag on my chest.
Since the Olympics I have not been able to realise what I have achieved, it is almost as if my mind is rejecting it. I can say that I notice and appreciate life and everything in it a great deal more than I used to. I feel as if time is ticking away too quickly, there is so much more I want to give and learn.
I need to really say and acknowledge my girl friend of 6 years, Tana Beaton. She had a horrible time dealing with me; I told her when we started going out that rowing will always come first. I am driven, I dont know what is next, I am sure that Tana is already dreading it. Results like mine are not achieved without good friends.
Rowley Douglas