Rowing Child

James sat enjoying it. He wasn’t allowed to shout or jump around; both could have him in the water to swim to the bank.
“What’s Four doing wrong?” his dad asked him quietly
James stuck his head out slightly, just enough to see, not enough to lean
“Four, raise your hands on the finish!” he yelled excitedly
“Thank you, Cox!” the laugh came, even Stroke gave a grin, who didn’t smile or talk much
“A’right lads, next stroke, race pace 30, and change THERE!”
The push of speed and strength was better than a ride in an F1 car or going in a space launch, the eight men all looked up, straightened their backs and pushed. The boat flew.
“Come on, boys, get that finish, and there, push it on! Drive it a-way!” called James’ Dad, only he was Cox now, no talking.
The wind pushed into the roots of James’ hair and rushed into his ears, each stroke forced him into his dad’s chest even except when he sat forward against it.
“Sit back; helps the balance” muttered Stroke, and James sat back, Cox ignored it.
“Come on, boys, nearly there, let’s have a push for ten, change there!” suddenly Cox began to roar “Push it away! And Two! Empty that tank! Three! Don’t lose that pressure! Four!”
James wanted to shout, wanted to be in the team pushing, he saw everyone’s eyes go empty except Stroke, who had everything to think about, whose eyes looked like a murderer’s as he glared at a point above Cox’s head.
The families on the bank cheered, calling the men by their names and encouraging them. James wanted them to be quiet; you shouldn’t distract them.
They weren’t at the finish.
“Keep that pace, don’t let that pressure drop, come on, boys!” called Cox, they were about five more strokes away
Three seconds later, they did it.
“New club record for the Senior Eight Men’s Team,” came the neutral drone over the speakers as the families and club members screamed, “well done, boys”
James roared as loud as he could with the team, Stroke shared a handshake with Cox, and high-fived and shook with the others behind, and finally gave James a pat on the shoulder
“Lucky charm,” he said, grinning and panting
Two of the men were sick over the side
“Fastest club in the UK, boys!” roared Fergus, their coach, who had coached the England Men’s Eight team for the 2008 Olympics and had retired victorious
The team cheered again and turned the boat to bring it back to the landing stage.
James was lifted out by Stroke so his dad could get out. He was shocked that he was still small, still the same as before. He had vaguely hoped he would take something in from it, but his friends were over there, if he had changed, they would see it. He wanted them to look at him and see a warrior or a hero, or some spiritual but real virtue of being a Rower.
“That was so cool!” said Ben, running over with Adam and Sean
“We heard your dad from the tea tent!” said Sean, swallowing a huge swig of cola
“Hey, I saw Stroke talk to you!” exclaimed Adam, as if it had been Batman
“Yeah, I’m their lucky charm,” said James, grinning, “when he wins, he says ‘Lucky charm’ to me”
“So that’s why you were on the boat?” demanded Ben, who was graceless in his jealousy and had screamed betrayal at his mother for asking if he might have a ride too.
James was confused
“Yeah, they wouldn’t want me for the weight” he said, trying not to grin too much because Ben was very angry at anyone who laughed at him
“I thought it was,” said Sean pompously, “as your dad isn’t very heavy they’d need you for the official weight”
“Dad’s right on what’s allowed, he diets for it” snapped James. He was thin and weedy, much like his dad, and resented the suspicions of anorexia that followed James’ being allowed on the boat and his father’s thin frame.
“But isn’t your dad on protein shakes?” asked Adam slyly
“Only because it’s better than sandwiches for lunch!” James answered roughly, and then turned “I’m getting a Mars Bar” and stalked off
He hated them. They still treated him like the smallest kid in the club, they made him be the cox on most outings and his mother was keeping an eye on him because he kept trying to sneak into the gym in the club and in their garage.
He fumed over to his mother who was watching the men put the boat in the boathouse.
“That looked fun,” she said smiling at him
“Yeah,”
She pulled him into her, so he could stand while she hugged him
“And I heard the boys talking to you coming back from the tea tent. They’re just jealous, I was talking to their mums,”
James nodded, that made him feel better.
“Sean, especially, even if Ben was louder about it,” she added
“That was just because she’d tried to get him a go,” said James, glad his mum would know better than that
“No, it’s because she didn’t get him a go. His dad plain refused. I was there,”
Mums were the organisers, coordinators, and there-when-it-happen-ers of the rowing world. They knew everything, and more importantly, you had at least one on your side. James’ mum was the matriarch, who sorted most of the problems out like most mums did but she knew how to handle rowing children, who baffled everyone. She’d raised three already.
They watched the U18 Skulls race
“When can I be in a team?” he asked again
“When you’re 11 and can join the Uppers” she replied
“I don’t want to be a Cox... unless it’s for Dad’s team” he added
“I think you’d pull a dead horse to sit in with your Dad’s team” his mum replied, smiling
That was James’ favourite thing for his mum to say. She understood exactly what he was thinking. She always had her blue fleece jacket on which warmed him as well when she hugged him, and she was always really calm even when he asked that question again and again.
“Her arms aren’t straight when her knees bend!” James protested, watching the winning girl
“She’s rushing,” agreed his mum, “she’s looking at what the girl closest to her is doing instead of what she’s doing,”
“Mum, when are you racing?”
“Next month, when Jenny can bring Amber,”
The Bow in his mum’s team had had a baby, and had had the last two months off and then another month because Amber had an allergy to milk and was growing too slowly on the alternative to bring out into the winter beside the river.
Facts about everyone in the club settled on James like snow, there was certainly a blizzard of it to be had, but James had the advantage of both parents being long-standing members, he’d been a rower while in the womb.
James clapped with everyone else for the girl who won, who had overtaken in the last 200m.
She was going to get what James most desperately wanted; a silver tankard stamped with the club insignia with a glass bottom.
When he got one, he was going to get his name and all his team member’s names on it with the date, and then put it up next to all the family’s ‘first trophy’ shelf.