All race reports for Maris Goldmanis
Event: May Bumps 2002 - Saturday
Posted as: Maris
Event Link
The warm-up felt much better than the day before, though probably not quite as relaxed as some of our best paddling: the adrenaline was taking its toll. I can't speak for everyone, but for me the short intermissions in the rowing while marshalling at Chesterton and, later, waiting for the start just above the Motorway bridge seemed to drag on forever. While we were rowing, the rowing itself was enough to keep my mind occupied and off the race ahead, but during the waiting I really felt like all I was was a huge ball of nerves. We were so close to victory, and yet in a sense so far-- if we screwed up today, it wouldn't really matter what we had done the three previous days-- the job would not be done. While you're waiting around like that, it's hard not to think of all the things that could go wrong...What if I catch a crab? What if Girton does what Queens' did on Tuesday, but better... What if...?
Looking over at Peterhouse didn't really help either; stroked by Tim Wooge, who had coached us earlier in the term, backed by a lightweight Blue at seven, and six huge blokes in the bows, the boat promised to be a tough challenge. We also knew that it had taken Caius longer to bump Peterhouse than to bump either Maggie or Girton in the preceding days. As I was contemplating all this, Martin turned to me and voiced what precisely the sentiments I was having: "This is going to be a long race, isn't it?"
Luckily, the reverberating sound of the four-minute gun soon interrupted our musings. The time for thoughts and worries was over. It was now time to do our job. And we knew how to do it; we had already shown it during the week. All we had to do was to do again what we had been doing all along, as Iain Law reminded us all while pushing us off. Iain has a wonderfully simple and straightforward manner of saying things, which has been a great help to us all year. When he says something, you can't help but agree.
5..4..3..2...GUN! Our start was strong, and in no time at all Iain's voice over the megaphone informed us that we had closed down to one-and-a-quarter lengths. Unlike some of the previous days, the next milestone calls followed in quite rapid succession: three-quarters, one-half, one third... This was probably not our most relaxed rowing ever, but it still felt controlled, and we would later be very much surprised to learn that we had strode (??) to 40, and were still rating 40 as we entered the gut. "Quarter of a length," shouted Iain, and what seemed like a split second later, this had turned into "OVERRRLAAAP!" which we all had agreed to take as our kill call. The next thing I know, the boat was shaken with a loud thud as we ploughed into Peterhouse (we later found that the bows of BP2 had been quite badly dented in the collision; sorry, Iain!). We had done it! The blades were ours! This was by far our quickest bump of the week, and the quickest one in our division that day. It was also the first time we had bumped quicker than Caius had bumped the same boat the day before. And, despite rating 40, we all later agreed that the row had felt quite sustainable and that we could have carried on at the same pace at least until the reach, had Peterhouse proven to be the tough opponents we had expected them to be.
Sitting in the middle of the gut with most of the rest of the division still coming down, we had to postpone celebration until later and quickly pull in to the far bank. Possibly because we all realized how serious the situation could become, we were much more disciplined today than we had been after our previous bumps, managing to pull in in plenty of time for other boats to pass. Finally, the last boats were gone, and, having shouted our three cheers for Peterhouse, we rowed up to the reach, cheered on by the crowd. We pulled in in there, picked up some greenery, and were greeted by our bank party. We got champagne from the bufties, and a can of beer each from Sam. The job was done. It was now time to kick off the party. The row back to the boathouse was reasonable, given the difficulties involved in rowing while holding a can of beer and simultaneously attempting to pass a bottle of champagne along the boat.
It is hard to describe the feeling after a blade-winning last bump on the last day of the Bumps, culminating a year's worth of aspirations and perspiration. Elation is probably the closest word I can think of, but it still falls quite short of the actual experience. If you have experienced it yourself, you will know what I mean.
For me, however, the last day of the bumps was a bittersweet moment. I had my "blade and glory," in the words of our 2nd May VIII song, but it also meant that my time at Trinity was over. I will never be rowing with these guys again (except perhaps some day in Black Prince). Worse yet, I will probably not even see most of them again, and will definitely not see all of them for a long, long time. It really feels like I'm leaving part of me here. I'll make sure I come back to pick it up someday...
