Oxford Summer VIIIs

It is when writing this kind of post that I become horribly aware that there are people actually reading this rubbish. It can be incredibly difficult to craft a post that veils the true identity of somebody that I'm describing here - but there is always the consideration that, given most people know what I think of them anyway, should I really bother to take that much care? I have three weeks left in Oxford and no social life for the duration courtesy of dissertation duties and maybe it really doesn't matter any longer...
Which means I can mention various VIIIs experiences with ease. Like the cox who tried to kill our entire crew by smashing us enthusiastically into a wall - think my facial expressions on the following two links sum up what was going through my mind (and, chances are, simultaneously coming out of my mouth).
http://www.jetphotographic.com/showphoto.php?id=104789
and -
http://www.jetphotographic.com/showphoto.php?id=104790
But oh, what a difference a day makes. The highlight (and simultaneously, one of the lower points) of VIIIs week has to have been holding off a men's crew for some considerable time - by the simple means of two highly cunning plans: one, confuse the hell out of the crew behind and make them steer into a bank, and two, row at a frankly unfeasible rating for as long as humanly possible. Proof that we looked something like a crew can be found here:
http://www.bigblade.net/rowing/events/2006/oe06/thursday/displayimage.pl?src=divisions&im=3472&offset=1
There were the almost inevitable personality clashes over the course of the races, mostly smoothed over by the calming presence of the other coach and the odd glass of Pimms. People fell in rivers, boats were smashed, mud was enthusiastically spattered, and the concept of 'technique' became, at times, a thing of the past.
As coach of Linacre women's 2nd VIII, albeit for a brief period of time, I've been asked to give a brief speech this evening - something I'm endeavouring to wheedle myself out of. However, were I to say anything it would be along the following lines...
Bringing together this crew has been pretty tough work. I remember sitting here in the common room with Russell, thinking that all was going to be absolutely fine, the blissful bubble promptly being burst by Helen's announcement that she could possibly be pregnant. And from thereon our beautifully constructed crew line-ups gradually disintegrated into mere shadows of their former selves. Outings came and went, and I issued endless decidedly empty promises that I would find eight women eager to thrust themselves into the rowing world. Much arm-twisting and shameless begging later, we finally had our line-up. Courtesy of some serious glares from me and an inability to be impressed by anything unless shedding skin and blood had been involved, the group finally came to realise what my version of 'firm pressure' meant and gave in. With Helen's mellow and curiously mothering tones working to smooth over my frequent angry outbursts, we formed a monster of a crew - ah, those sweet voices and innocent faces are mere covers for the beasts within, a camera crew on Donnington Bridge capturing some particularly fantastic moments of sheer grr-ness. Particularly given the few outings we had to train as a set Eight, I'm excessively proud of the achievements of my crew. I say 'my crew' carefully, for one does often wonder whether one makes the blindest scrap of difference to anything going on in the boat. Congratulations to Leanne and Colleen in bow, keeping that boat rhythmic and sat - and providing endlessly entertaining contorted facial expressions; to Kim and Monika who have come on in leaps and bounds in a few short weeks to become seriously hard-core beasts; to Catherine and Miranda as our consistently mighty engine-room fighting for every stroke, and to Carrie and Ellie, our careful stern pair who have kept up a cracking rating resulting in some awesome racing. Finally to Helen and our 'lucky number ten', who has endured the hells of morning sickness and the Wrath of Jane, to stay calm and cool and keep our boat together. And thanks to everyone - special mentions to Russell and Bobby - who have listened to my rants with barely suppressed smiles and slightly raised eyebrows, kept me a version of sane, and ensured that all have lived to tell the tale. I have some awesome memories from the last few days, and I believe there are even photographs with me smiling in them to prove it. Good luck to everyone in their rowing futures, and when you're feeling as if you just can't go on: dig deep, and find that Beast Within.