You Say You Want to Cox?

"All ya gotta do is sit there and steer, right?" Yeah, just try it, buddy.

When you tell people you're a coxswain, they often laugh a lot. If you've never had to do it, hey, well, it's not a big deal to aim the boat in the right direction and yell at all those rowers. I mean, really, you could stay on the road and yell at your mother at the same time, even when you were just learning to drive, right? Well, almost.

Most coxswains eventually learn to steer a course that resembles a straight line. Once a year, however, there's a race in Cambridge that demands a little more of those little people who do the yelling.

The Head-of-the-Charles course, with five major turns, six bridges, unpredictable winds and deceptive currents, is the ideal setting for what is often called a coxswain's race. There is no question that the three-mile row is murderous for oarsmen, but the winding course taxes a coxswain's ability to an extent far beyond the normal straight-line course in spring competition.

One of the toughest parts of the race is getting off the starting line. There are about 80 boats milling around below B.U. at any given time, and your first job is to get your boat lined up in numerical order and manuever up to the line without being broadsided by any of the 79 other crews. You say we're on the line? Hey, you guys, full power! ROW!

Uh-oh. Your boat got a great start, and now you're going to get to that narrow railroad bridge at the same time as that turkey crew in front of you. Yell at 'em. Tell 'em to give you water. Yeah, be aggressive.

You finally got past those jerks doing the mosquito imitation, and now you're taking ten along Magazine Beach. Watch out for the green buoys--you have to take this turn real tightly, like put your starboard oars over into forbidden water. But careful, if the boat goes outside a buoy, bang, that's a ten-second penalty. And you bet they watch you. Oh yeah, when you make the corner, look out--there's often a brisk wind and strong current that sends a couple boats onto the rocks every year.

Hey, look--a straightaway, three-quarters of a mile. Then just when you think you've got it made, there's some clown sneaking up on your port side to challenge you for the inside of the turn. Weeks Bridge sports the trickiest turn in the course--you sort of want to aim for the outside edge of the center arch and turn sharply right before you enter the bridge. Watch out, if you've done it right you'll just miss losing some paint off your port blades on the inside of the arch. Gulp, swallow. But, hey, you're halfway there.

All the fans from Harvard are watching now--take a 20 for style and watch out for crabs. Don't turn too much as you go through the Anderson Bridge or the stiff wind will toss you onto the Cambridge shore. Oh, yeah, and don't take the right hand arch--it carries a stiff 60-second penalty.

But, hey, two miles gone and you're heading into that Eliot turn. Remember the heart attacks you had as a freshman cox, how you hated practice upstream because you couldn't make that turn going downstream, how the coach yelled as you drifted into the center of the river? Well, now imagine all those coxswains who didn't grow up on the Charles, and they're seeing that turn for the first time. And freaking. And spilling over the buoys into your course. Hold your water, yell at them, and put your port oars over the buoys. Don't miss 'em, it's ten seconds, but cut it real close--this saves more time than you can imagine. Watch out for crews on your outside (you did get the inside of the turn, didn't you, squirt?) and cut across the river into the center arch, taking ten to push it home. Stay calm, oars over the buoys on that last turn by Belmont Hill.

You can see the finish line? Great! Take the cadence up, pass one more boat, stay in a straight line, tell 'em it's last 20, last ten, well, sorry, four more, paddle!

Hey, you made it. No, don't stop now or a boat will plow into your stern. Yes, I know the rowers are dead and they want to stop. No, you just can't stop here. Get 'em moving.

And now the letdown. You had all that adrenalin--didn't you get excited, especially considering "all ya gotta do is steer?" But hey, it was no sweat, right? Nothin' to it, right?

I guess you have to be there.