...last year was then. This year started now.

Christine and J.R. showed up while I was in mid-ponder, and it was really good to see them again. One by one the rest of the familiar faces showed up at the docks, and as we talked it was easy to know that everyone felt the same way. It was a new season - we would have a few months to bring the team together again, but everybody was ready to go.

We knew the Philadelphia Festival was a complete sellout - There would be 128 boats entered, which meant a much tougher, deeper field. Could we possibly do that well again? There was no sense in worrying about it - we just got down to work.

One practice at a time, one drill at a time, one stroke at a time. When things weren't going well, Coach Chris wouldn't hold back - he was tough, clear, and that was because he had to be. Our expectations were higher this year: We were no longer the "little boat that could" - we had a reputation to defend. However, Chris also pointed out that we were now an experienced boat, a lighter boat (we'd all dropped some weight), and a stronger boat.

"Power wins races..." he'd remind us, "..and we've got more this year."

Unlike my rookie season, the weeks just seemed to fly by. September was just a blink - I could barely believe it when we were having our final practice the Tuesday before the Festival. The August sun had given way to the quickening sunsets of early autumn, and as we paddled after dark beneath the blue lights of the Strawberry Mansion Bridge, we had our best practice of the year at just the right time. On our starts the boat was coming up quickly - we were getting our act together, and it left us all in a really, really good place.

As I drove home that night, I kept thinking the same thing: "Saturday can't get here soon enough."

Race day dawned cool, windless, and cloudless - conditions were absolutely perfect (even if we were all freezing most of the morning). The first race of the day went off at 8:00AM - we would get our first chance at 9:39 in the Pharmaceutical Cup race. After our wins there in 2003 and 2004, the other Pharma boats were once again aiming squarely at our backs. GSK had entered three boats, just like they had in 2004. It was going to be VERY tense.

In our pre-race meeting Chris had told us, "The Pharma Race is what matters right now - we need to win this one. Everything else that comes after it is just bonus. Keep focused - this is what matters, we only have one shot here. GSK is a lot stronger this year - they are going to stay with you. Be ready to have a boat with you almost all of the way."

We made our way to the docks, loaded up, and got ready to light it up. We had Billy back as our steerer - he'd steered for us in previous years, and was the perfect guy to have in the boat. He'd been in hundreds of races with the U.S. Men's Team, and knew exactly what to say to keep us focused, cool, and ready. "You guys are READY for this." He boomed from aft. "You can do this - focus in the boat. Five strong to start, then hit those pop strokes HARD!"

"Everybody breathe." he reminded us, as our silent boat glided into the blocks. The starter worked to get everyone aligned, and then before we knew it, she gave the commands.

"BOATS READY!"

"ATTENTION!"

As the starter gave her last command, another voice yelled out, "READY!" In that last second, the steerer in the lane next to us barked something to his boat...

Then the horn sounded.

As seven other boats tore away from their docks, we didn't. Not immediately, anyway.

Chris had always reminded us, "The starter is NOT your friend - if she's quick, you won't get that time back. Listen and be ready." It only took one second, but already we were falling back - rapidly. We weren't 20 working as one - we were struggling to get together with every pull. The panic start meant timing was off fore to aft, and port to starboard. The boat rocked left to right, and we left the line dead last. Again. Just like 2004.

Billy yelled out, "TIMING! TIMING!" After five pulls we had it together, and did our best to bring the boat up on plane. We now had 450 meters to get it right, and weren't that far back - maybe 2 seats. Billy counted off the strokes:

"TEN!" We kept on digging - accelerating, fighting to get the distance back.

"TWENTY!" The start segment was almost gone - soon we'd be into the settle. It was still noisy - there was still a boat to the right staying with us...had to be GSK. Here we go...just like we thought.

Billy and Karenlee called it: "EIGHT, NINE, LONG! REACH! REACH!" We'd hit the settle, and now there were 350 meters to go. We were even with whatever that boat was in Lane 8 - there'd be about 90 seconds left to settle the heat. Billy kept up with the cheerleading in the back; "Good! GOOD! REACH! You guys are on it! Good job! Stay with it! Remember to BREATHE!" We dug in, died hard, buried the blades, on the power now...

Then it got quiet. Billy called out, "You got a BOAT LENGTH! GOOD JOB! STAY WITH IT!" We'd dug into the lead - a BIG lead! We still had 250 meters to go - half the race yet, but we were in the lead, pulling away! Everyone in the boat could feel it - we were going to win it again! YES!

For the rest of the heat, it stayed quiet. We could hear people on shore yelling for us - they knew it, we knew it, we had it won! Without a boat next to us and almost with too much time to think, things got ragged the last 100 meters. The boat sat down in the water a bit - slowed some, but it didn't matter. We crossed the line 7 seconds clear of second place - race 1, done.

We'd won it! Three Pharma Cups in a ROW!

We turned the boat, paddled the promenade along the riverside, and did a 'Paddles Up' salute to our teammates on shore. What a way to start the day!

As we paddled back to the dock, whooping, hollering, and feeling pretty relieved that we'd managed the win even after making a complete shambles of the start, another GSK boat made its way down the river in the next heat. We didn't know it at that moment, but they were racing for the Pharmaceutical Cup as well, even as they raced in another heat - when they crossed the line, they'd stack their time against ours.

As we hugged, high-fived, and breathed a sigh of relief at the docks, that GSK boat put down a 2:13.14 for the 500 meters.

What a shame our heat winning time was 2:16.86.

By the time we got back to our tents the race announcer let us know - we'd lost the cup. Gone. Done. Second Place.

Maybe it was the bad start. Maybe it was the slowdown in the last 100 meters. Maybe it would have been different if we'd been side-by-side. It didn't matter now, it just hurt. We'd done it to ourselves, and we knew it.

To get beat when doing the best you can is one thing. To get beat when you make mistakes you've never made in practice - to beat yourself? Well, that just sucked. It made for a very long, quiet, frustrating rest of the morning while we sorted out in our heads what had happened.

We knew we would have two more races to put things right.

Our time in the morning preliminaries put us firmly in the "A" bracket - the top 16 boats on the day. We would go into the first "A" Semi-Final as a 4th seed overall, 2nd seed in our heat. When it came time to get us ready, Chris made it perfectly clear what we'd have to do.

"The top four in this heat make it to the 'A' Final. You don't make the top 4, you race the Consolation Race. We don't want that. We're better than that. Everyone here knows the race plan. You know the mistakes you made this morning. You know you can do better - we've DONE better." No cheerleading, just direct, clear orders.

We walked down to the corrals, and knew this would be a much tighter race. That's the nature of a festival like this; each race gets harder, and harder. The gaps get closer - the boats get faster. If there was little room for a mistake in the Pharma Race, there was NO room for one now. We knew it.

We loaded up into lane 5, and Billy took us out. Vikki would return to the drummer's seat after paddling in the Pharma Race; the two of them had guided us to the bronze last year in the festival - they were a very familiar set of voices to our ears. "Focus IN THE BOAT." Vikki reminded us. "You listen to Billy and Me - nobody talks."

We did one practice start, then turned and glided into the docks. Billy gave the last draw commands, and we were aligned. All twenty of us were heads down, focused, ready, and still incredibly pissed off. "Let's f*$%#! GO." I thought to myself...

"We have alignment." The starter was ready.

"ATTENTION!" Our blades hit the water. I took one last breath.

This time, we didn't miss it.

"GO!"

"ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FIVE! PICK IT UP!" Vikki was on it, and so was Billy. "TEN! C'MON! GO! GO! STAY WITH THEM!" There were boats on both sides of us, but we were hitting the pulls together - the boat was jumping with each catch as all 20 blades nailed the water together. We had it hooked up, and were getting this monster up the way we'd practiced. It was f'ing SWEET.

"TWENTY!" Vikki and Billy called the stroke count while the boat in Lane 6 was right there. I couldn't see 'em, but I could hear 'em. This was going to be good.

"EIGHT! NINE! LONG! REEEEAACH! BURY! REACH! BURY!" We hit the settle and were right there, head to head to head with Steel City Dragons to the left, and D.C. Dragons to the right. Two experienced, year-round teams. They weren't going to fade - this would be a fight to the line.

"REACH! LONG! REACH! LONG! COME ON! COME ON!" Vikki let us know it was still too close. "Give me a seat! I NEED A SEAT!" At 250 meters, we were down about two feet to D.C. Dragons, and even with Steel City - this was going to come down to the sprint. All we had to do was stay here and then try and out-power them at the end...

Behind us, while fighting for 4th place in lane 3, GSK Spitzfire had a steering oar break or somehow snap clear of the oarlock. With 20 people paddling at full power and a steerer reduced to controlling a three-thousand pound boat by swearing (which never really works), the results were a sight to behold: She dove somewhat slightly to the right, and then veered hard left - taking a 90-degree turn across lanes 2 and 1 without slowing a lick. All 20 paddlers were still going full-tilt-Lambada as the dragon pointed itself towards the shore, and while still on plane, headed for Kelly Drive.

When Spitzfire finally stopped (probably because they ran out of river), she was completely sideways and 100 feet off the race course. The Fairmount Park Commodores Team and Hope Afloat both managed to miss the pileup, but effectively had no way of catching up.

The race announcers immediately called for the race to be stopped.

Unfortunately, nobody told the officials on the water in the chase boats.

Up front Steel City Dragons, D.C. Dragons, and Wyeth Wyverns carried on. Heads down. Fighting for the win, and in our case, fighting for redemption. We stayed close, all three boats never more than a seat apart through the last 100 meters. Vikki kept the whip to us down the stretch - we knew it had to be close. "REACH! BEND! REACH! BEND! C'MON! REACH! REACH!"

When we crossed the line, D.C. Dragons looked like they had us by a foot - Steel City was right there, but Billy was pointing at them. "They TOTALLY left their lane - don't worry about them. You guys made it - nice job." What we didn't know was that Steel City had left their lane trying to avoid the wandering GSK Spitzfire before she made her hard carve to port.

We hadn't won the Semi, but we'd made it - 2nd or 3rd place would get us back to the "A" Final for the second year in a row. Everyone was spent; my mouth was completely dry. Even though the race was just over two minutes, the adrenaline and frustration from the morning had burned through all of us, and left nothing behind but 20 panting, sweaty, spent, but proud people.

That was okay. We'd have two hours to rest before the final.

We thought.

"All Boats, please return to the starting area. We will need to run this heat again. Please return to the starting area, we will be re-starting this Semi-Final."

"What?" Vikki was the only one who could say it, but the rest of us, well, we looked up in somewhat shocked disbelief.

"You've got to be f*$%@ing kidding me." Billy spoke for all of us.

Indeed, that was the call. We would have about 10 minutes to recover, and then we'd have to do it all over again. As we pulled into the docks so that Chris could get the official word, you could feel that everyone in the boat was at an emotional breaking point. We'd just taken it into the red to make sure we got back to the final...and it was for nothing? After losing to a boat we couldn't see in the morning? It was nearly too much to take.

I couldn't help it - I had to say something. Hell - it'd been almost 5 minutes, that's as long as I can go without talking anyway. From seat 4R I turned around and did my best to say the right thing.

"Guys, I know you can all do this. You might not feel like you can, but you can. This is just like practice. Chris has had us out on the water 2 hours at a time. We've done start after start before, so this is just like practice. We're gonna' get out there, and we're gonna' do it again. You don't think you can, but you can. It's in you - you just don't know it. I believe in you guys - I trust you guys. We're gonna' do it - and we're gonna' be better than we just were. We're warmed up now! Hang in there - we'll be alright!" There was no yelling, no cheerleading, just the simple truth.

I'd hoped it was the right thing to say. The truth was, I was talking to myself as much as I was talking to my team. Those voices in my head that kept trying to tell me, "No way..." needed to be told to frost off - NOW.

We all grabbed a quick drink, and once more (with feeling), headed away from the docks for the "A" Demi-Semi-Final. I don't think anybody in any other boat was too happy about it, but at least we'd all be miserable together. As we paddled out, Chris had a great idea - he told Vikki and Billy, "If we're in the top 4 at halfway, back it off. Take it down to 75%, and cruise in. We just need to make the top 4."

Once the race re-started, the second verse turned out to be the same as the first. We had a good start, a good settle, and went head-to-head-to-head the entire way with Steel City and D.C. Dragons. If the command to slow down was given, I missed it. The last minute of the Second-Semi-Final is a complete blur in my mind; I locked onto Arturo Guillen's paddle in the seat ahead of me, and simply buried myself...just like everyone else.

The results from the Demi-Semi:

1. Steel City Dragons 2:22.10

2. Wyeth Wyverns 2:23.92

3. D.C. Dragons 2:23.99

This time, it counted. We were in. Finally. After the second half of the "A" bracket raced their Semi-Final (they only raced once - wimps!), we knew we would be 4th seed in Race 51 - the "A" Final.

The time between races is always long. Some of us ate. Some napped. Some watched the races as the other brackets fought through their finals. Some went for a walk. Some stretched. Everyone did what they could to clear their heads, and not get too tight. It had already been an epic day; a 12-hour emotional roller-coaster none of us had expected...and with one race yet to go, who knew what would happen.

The "A" Final was going to be perfectly absurd. The Philadelphia Youth Team would be there - #2 seed, and defending champs from last year. GSK Draggin' would be the #1 seed, and as is sometimes the case in open races, they added some extra power to their boat in the form of paddlers from the US Men's National Team. We would add no-one, sticking to a roster of Wyeth-only people. By now after three seasons, it was a point of pride for us: We are who we are, we race who we are.

Main Line Health and Fitness had been in the Final in 2004 - we'd barely held them off by 0.30 seconds to get our Bronze Medals. D.C. Dragons, Steel City, and the Fairmount Park Commodores completed the lineup - all good, all fast, all experienced. Then there was us: A corporate team made up of techies, scientists, accountants, executives, planners, and security folks who had been on the water together a total of 8 times since that warm August evening.

That was then, this was now.

The starting dance this time was extra tense. The starter asked us to line up, but when Billy looked and saw only one boat close to the docks, he made a hard turn away. "I'm taking you guys out - no f'ing way we're sitting there all that time." Billy knew his stuff. He knew the game. He knew how to get an edge whenever possible. He guided us through a lazy circle, and then lined us up from 150 feet away...letting momentum glide us in eeeevvvveeerrrr sssoooooo slllloooooowwwwwwlllllyyy...

It was pretty slick.

When we crept into our dock we weren't the last boat in, but we wouldn't be waiting too long. Vikki reminded us, "Remember to breathe, guys - you're ready for this. Good start, good settle." We tucked our heads and waited while the starter tried to get all 9 boats lined up. As I closed my eyes, the late afternoon sun felt really warm as it reflected off of the glassy surface of the river. It was such a beautiful, peaceful feeling...and I thought, "So warm, so calm. Shame about the two minutes of unimaginable violence to come..."

I don't know why, but that made me smile. The starter kept working.

"Lane 8, I need you to come up one dragon head. Thank you."

"Lanes 1, 2, and 3, draw back one stroke. Just one. Good."

"Lane 7, hold water - good - hold, back one stroke."

"I see your hand lane 9 - ."

Then we heard Billy. "SHIT. I'm in the lines. I'm tangled." The steering oar had fouled the dock lines!

Vikki's hand shot up to let the starter know we had a problem. Thankfully, she saw it.

"Lane 3, I see your hand - " Billy barked at us, "THREE STROKES FORWARD!" We pulled forward, cleared the oar, and then backed in one more time. "Breathe - everyone breathe." Vikki reminded us.

"Lane 3, back a dragon head. Good. Hold water."

"Lane 5, you're out of position - come back one stroke."

"Lane 8, you're good."

"Lane 1, you're good."

Tink, tink, tink, tink, tink... That'd be the zipper on my life vest, bouncing from my heartbeat, again.

"Very good. All boats are aligned." Those were magic words from the starter: No more waiting.

"Ready All!" We reached, buried our blades in the water, and all took one final breath.

"ATTENTION!" Nine boats sat in perfect silence.

With one blast from the airhorn, the silence became a memory.

"GO!"

The sound was enormous - from dead silence to Niagra Falls in less than a second as 180 blades did their best to move an entire river at once.

"ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FIVE!" Vikki and Billy counted off the start pulls together, and we hit them all dead-on. All 20 of us came together right off the line, and now we'd have 30 strokes to get our beautiful beast up and ahead of everyone else.

"TEN!" Vikki called out.

"GOOD JOB! GOOD JOB! STAY WITH THEM!" Billy was already roaring at the back.

Vikki kept the stroke count. "TWENTY!" Not long to the settle now - I could feel the boat leaping with each stroke, straining with each desperate catch, powering through the water, almost to full speed. A dragon boat gets up to speed in the first 30 strokes of the race - the team that gets an early lead wins by not letting it slow back down.

As Vikki and Billy counted off 30 strokes they were the only ones that knew it - that boat with the lead was us.

400 meters to go.

"EIGHT! NINE! LONG! REACH! BURY! REACH! BURY!" Vikki's voice powered the commands through the settle, reminding us all to make every stroke worth it - full reach, bury the blade. On either side of the boat you could hear drummers and steerers screaming, blades tearing through the water, doing all they could to stay with the lead...with us!

"REACH! REACH! REACH! C'MON YOU GUYS! REEEAACHH!" Vikki's voice was surprisingly desperate - we had to be close to someone. The boat was starting to die - the settle was bogging down.

300 meters to go.

"Lengthen in two! ONE! TWO! REACH! REEEACH!" Vikki called for a lengthen - we were tightening up; the human cost of adrenaline and nerves fighting with muscles for control. As a team we responded - everyone stretched out, dug deeper, and got the boat back on plane.

"YOU GUYS ARE DOING IT! YOU GUYS ARE DOING IT! KEEP IT UP!" Billy let us know the score - we had to be right there!

200 meters to go.

"REACH! BURY! REACH! BURY! YOU GUYS ARE DOING UNBELIEVABLE!" Vikki's orders had gone up a full octave. She was no longer commanding us - She was PLEADING with us to keep doing whatever it was we were doing - her emotions were impossible to miss.

As we dug deeper and deeper, the pain was just everywhere. My back, my shoulders, my chest - everything was screaming. My breathing was barely under control; I was entering that trance-like state that let me know there wasn't too much left to give...but there was nothing left to save it for. There was no tomorrow.

"REACH! REACH! REACH! REACH! REACH!" The word "bury" was gone now - too many syllables for Vikki's voice to take. Her pleas were getting so desperate, it sounded like disbelief. Vikki's a pro - been a drummer on a lot of boats. Been to World's. I think here is where the boat started to feel it - we might be just seconds away from a miracle.

100 meters to go.

"Lengthen in TWO! ONE! TWO! REACH! REACH! REACH! REACH!" Another call for a lengthen - we can't die now! We can't lose it now - please!

"YOU'RE DOING IT! YOU'RE DOING IT!" Vikki's voice was on the edge of coming apart. I couldn't even hear Billy - there was just a continuous roar from aft.

We dug in one last time, and fought with everything we had left to bring it home. I was hurting so much, I felt on the edge of tears with every pull. I didn't dare look up - you never look out of the boat - so I just kept digging, panting, and dying with the rest of my team.

I could hear the boats on either side of us...it was killing me to know this was going to be so damn close. After all we'd been through, I knew if we lost by less than a foot...

"REACH! REACH! REACH!!" Vikki was barely holding herself together...in my head I prayed through the pain with every stroke; "Please, God, please, please, please! PLEASE!"

"REACH! REACH! REEEEACH!"

Just over Arturo's blade I saw a buoy off to the right. Was that it? I wasn't sure - I kept pulling, hoping, praying...

As we broke the line, I looked up just in time to see Vikki send her hands straight to the sky. With both arms up in complete disbelief, she yelled out, "OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD!"

I looked left - I looked right: There was a boat to either side of us.

Our dragon head was ahead of each by a single seat.

I couldn't see anyone else.

It took me a second to really let it sink in...but we'd done it.

We'd done it! WE JUST WON THE FINAL!!!

I didn't know if I should laugh, cry, or scream, so I did it all at once.

I wasn't alone. The rest of the boat immediately, collectively, and unreservedly, lost its mind. Blades went in the air. Even though most of us couldn't breathe, we were all screaming. I turned and hugged Dave Lehman, my seat partner. Of course, putting my weight on his side of the boat - a boat, I might add, that was still moving at full speed, was not a good idea. We damn nearly swamped right then and there, so I jumped my ass back on my side before our celebration was interrupted by a sinking.

Dave looked right at me and dead panned, "Don't do that again." Then went right back to losing his mind.

Billy made the slow turn beneath the setting sun, and we started to make our way back to the dock. As we paddled along the seawall, I let my eyes wander and take in the whole scene. There were people lining the entire race course - more than a quarter-mile of continuous cheering, waving, and love for all of the boats in the final, but as Champions - we got more than our share as we paddled past everyone.

And when we came past the Wyeth tent, with our friends and families there? When we hit our "Paddles Up" salute as CHAMPIONS? I don't think any of us knew dared to believe we could win the whole thing...

I knew how special it was. I knew I was living a moment that I was going to take with me all the way to the nursing home. I knew I was writing a story I would bore a grandchild with someday. I knew it, I loved it, and I savored every second of it.

The "A" Final Results:

1. Wyeth Wyverns - 2:15.03
2. GSK Draggin' - 2:15.81
3. Main Line Health & Fitness - 2:16.12
4. Steel City Dragons - 2:16.99
5. Philly Yutes! - 2:18.14
6. D.C. Dragons - 2:18.52
7. Fairmount Park Commodores - 2.22.79
8. GSK MR. MIGU - 2:24.33
9. GSK Spitzfire - 2:26.65

When we got back to the docks and made the walk to the awards tent, the moment just wouldn't end. We would get to walk up and receive our Gold medals, one at a time. All the other teams from the Final stayed there in a really classy gesture of support, and watched the ceremony. First was Coach Chris, then Bill, and soon it was my turn. Carol Lee, the festival director, looked at me and waved for me to come up.

I tried - I really tried to keep it together. Everyone who knows me knows I'm an emotional guy, but I didn't want to come unglued just yet. Of course, when I took my hat off and bowed my head, I could tell I was losing it. Then Carol Lee saw that I had dust in my eyes. Then she HUGGED me, and planted a kiss on my cheek, and put my first ever Gold medal around my neck...yeah, well, so much for pretending to be a tough guy.

After shaking hands with many of the paddlers from Steel City, GSK, and Main Line...I stood back and watched the rest of my teammates get their medals. I still couldn't believe it. There were 128 boats racing in the Philadelphia Festival, and 127 of them were behind us!

Next year I'll probably sit on the steps at Lloyd Hall when our practices begin. I'll have the same worries, the same fears, and even more expectations. However, now I'll know that if we've done it once...I'll believe we can do it again. I just need to look up to remember that.

I've got a medal that's the color of the sun.

I've got a team that carried me there.

We'll be back...and everyone will be chasing us.

What more can I ask for?

Hurricane Bob
* Until they close the lid. *

Back | Home | Up | Next