THE TRAINING OF A UNIVERSITY CREW.
BY FREDERIC A. STEVENSON,
Captain of the Yale Crew, ’88.
VERY few among the many thousands who witness the annual boat race between the universities of Yale and Harvard on the Thames at New London, appreciate what the preparation for that event means. Of course, nearly every one has heard that the crews have been in training, and from the newspaper articles that come thick and fast about the time of the race, has formed certain vague and often erroneous ideas as to how that training is effected.
The winning crew is most elaborately praised: their stroke was perfect, their backs rose and fell in unison, they worked like a piece of well-oiled machinery. On the other hand, the losing crew is characterized in terms no less strong: their work was ragged, such a man in the boat gave out, the men were not properly trained. Thus, by reading the usual newspaper reports of a race is the general idea of a boat race and the work required for it formed. How well the average correspondent can be relied on for authentic and accurate information was well illustrated this year at New London. The day before the Yale-Harvard race, one paper published an article praising the Harvard stroke, speaking of “the perfect stroke of the Harvard eight.” The result of the race entirely changed the tone of the next article. The same paper then described the same stroke of the same crew, thus: “The rowing was of the most ragged kind, and their style abominable.” This was scarcely true and was most certainly very unjust. It would surely have been impossible for a crew to go backwards to that extent in a single day. The fact is that both articles were greatly exaggerated, the first as badly in one direction as the second was in the other.
Let us see if we cannot come right down to hard facts concerning training and ascertain what it really means in the case of a university crew.
One race is but just over when the work for the next begins. The summer’s work, however, is mainly confined to the captain, for he must during that time make a careful study of the manner of coaching, of the theory of the stroke, and of the styles of rigging a shell, in preparation for the year’s work. Then, too, the truly enthusiastic oarsman endeavors as much as possible to improve during the summer, mainly in getting thoroughly acquainted with the feeling and motion of the water.
But now autumn is with us again, the university is open, and once more another college athletic year is begun. The first event in the rowing department is the fall regatta. In this only the class crews take part, and the training is short and not so severe as in the spring. But these fall regattas, unimportant as they may seem to an outsider, are really a great factor in the university crew work, and should never be neglected.
The class crews are the main feeders of the university crew, and it is all-important that they should get as much practice as possible, so that they be taught the regular university crew stroke. The members of the past year’s crew act as coaches. This is doubly advantageous, for it both instills the right principles into the crew, and teaches the coach not only to think about the stroke and to see faults, but also to learn how they may be corrected, which is of immense advantage to him when his own work begins.
After the class races the men start work for the university crew. The captain selects from the class crews the men whom he considers fitted to train. To this number are added some who, though they may never have rowed, yet seem to have in them suitable material, and the old crew men who are not playing football. The work is light, consisting of a daily short row, and lasts only so long as the water is open.
After the Christmas recess, the real work begins. All through the fall the “weeding-out” process has been in operation. Now the ranks are once more filled, mainly with those who have been playing football during the fall, so that the number of candidates who begin the real training will be between twenty-five and thirty. Now is the time, therefore, to ask the questions of what does the training actually consist? what are the requirements for a crew man? and how are the standards of excellence to be applied?
We will consider first the training itself. The work will take from two to three hours a day. During the winter, the men assemble at the gymnasium at some fixed hour; their clothes are quickly changed, knickerbockers, running shoes and “sweaters” being substituted, and the work of the afternoon begins. After a few moments’ work in the gymnasium, a short run is taken, outside if the weather permits; if not, inside on the canvas-covered track. A distance of five or six miles is covered at a pace varying from a fast walk to a sharp trot, according to the fancy of the captain. On the return to the gymnasium, after cooling off somewhat after the run, the men in a body go through a series of exercises designed to limber up the rowing muscles. Then the men are taken in squads of eight and set to work on the rowing-machines, or, what is far better, in a tank. A well-built tank is as much superior to the ordinary rowing-machine as the modern racing shell is to the old-style racing boat.
A few words will describe a tank. The only one that I know of is at Yale, and is used by the university crew in their winter work. A wall a little over three feet in height encloses a space about fifty feet in length to thirty feet in width in the basement of the gymnasium. The bottom and sides are cemented and it contains water to the depth of about two feet. A barge, securely fastened at both ends, lies in the water. This is of full size and regularly rigged to suit the men. The blades of the oar have to be either of less width or have a hole cut in the centre of the blade to diminish the great pressure. The tank is arranged so as to accelerate the current of water as much as possible as it is driven by the oars. This current is guided by means of the curved corners of the tank and by partitions running parallel to the barge over which the shank of the oar passes. By the stroke, the water is driven toward the stern outside the partition, i. e., in the channel farthest from the boat, and flows back toward the bow on the inside. These side partitions come just above the surface of the water, while a partition about two-thirds as high as those at the sides runs beneath the boat and practically divides the tank in half, giving two distinct and separate circular currents. The theory is that the oarsman’s strength is expended in driving the water round where ordinarily it is used in sending the boat ahead.
The crew is now seated in the boat, oars in hand, ready for the real work of the afternoon. The captain or the “coach” stands on the edge of the tank. At the command “Get ready!” off come the “sweaters,” and the men come up into position ready for the catch. The coach runs his eye quickly along the boat, straightens up the men, and satisfies himself that everything is right. The rowing is now begun and lasts from a half to three-quarters of an hour. The coach goes completely round the boat on the edge of the tank, correcting faults, explaining points, often stopping the crew, and making individual men practice certain difficult points. At the close of this work the men take a shower-bath, and after being rubbed down are ready, with hearty appetites, for the supper at the training table.
Such is the general afternoon’s gymnasium work during the winter. When spring comes, the tank gives way to the harbor and the gymnasium to the boat-house. Then the entire time is spent on the water, and the men are carefully watched by the coach from a steam launch.
The question of the selection of the men is the most difficult point that the captain and coach have to decide. Of course, certain physical traits are essential for a crew man, and he must have perfectly sound heart and lungs. This must be decided by a doctor’s examination. He must be tough, strong and enduring, and this is shown by the work he can stand.
But more is required for the modern university crew man. The day of “beef” and mere strength is past; for rowing has kept up with the times and it is now the era of skill in rowing. Brain-work is just as necessary in crew-rowing as muscular exertion. Neither is of use without the other, the two carefully combined give the winning crew. So nowadays the crew candidate has to undergo a mental as well as a physical examination. In passing judgment on these qualifications the greatest care must be used. Only those men can be selected in whom not only the captain and the coach, but every man in the boat has full confidence. This man may not always be the most skillful individual oarsman, but the fact that the ideal is a crew, and that eight must be chosen who will work as one man, must constantly be kept in mind. How can a crew row a hard race when there is a feeling that there is one man in the boat whose “sand” will give out when the final test comes? Every good crew man must be an enthusiast, a hard and faithful worker, a conscientious trainer, and a man who feels at all times that the honor and glory of his university are entrusted to his care.
Too much stress cannot be laid on the subject of harmony in a crew. All must work with the same will, with the same ideal in view. Often a man must take the coach’s word for what seems to him in his inexperience like a fatal blunder. Where there is mutual confidence between crew and coach, a strict adherence to what is believed to be the right principles, and honest, faithful work, defeat will come but seldom, disgraceful defeat never.
Such are the men who make up the university crews of to-day. How these men are regarded in college may be judged by a remark made this year by the Dean of Yale. He said, “The rowing men are the best class of men in college, the men with whom the faculty have the least trouble.”
In conclusion, I would like to say a word in reply to the oft-repeated question, whether it is beneficial to take part in college athletics. If I may be permitted to express an opinion after four years of rowing, I will most certainly answer, yes, for that branch of college athletics builds a man up physically as every one admits. It does not prevent a man from standing well in his studies. The men who are most relied on in a crew are, as a rule, those who make a good showing in the recitation room. The training a man undergoes as a member of the university crew sends him out into the world not only with a sound, healthy body, but also with the habits of regularity, promptness, obedience, self-control and self-restraint thoroughly ground into him; in short, with all the personal characteristics that combine to make a successful man fully developed. I have never found a crew man who regrets the time and labor he gave to it. Every one loves it with an affection that only a crew man can understand, and looks back upon it as one of the most pleasant as well as most profitable parts of his college course.
