personality traits in seats in an eight
Sullys Maze
seats of an eight. This assumes a straight port-stroked stern coxed
eight.
I would guess that a straight starboard stroked boat would be fairly
similar, but that ports and starboards are as different from each
other as men are from women - I know from personal experience being
bi myself (sided not sexual). I've long noted differences in
personality from port to starboard in myself. This for another day
and perhaps when under the influence.
Therefore, a bucket rigged port stroked bow coxed eight is not
included in this theory.
from the stern:
Cox: It's pretty obvious what traits a cox must adopt and tries
to learn to do a good job in this most unique position in the
athletic world. I'll pass on the leadership stuff, napoleon
complex garbage, and point out a secondary characteristic or two
that coxes unintentionally inherit after riding in the box for a
while.
They can't drive a car anymore. They take 10 miles to change a
lane, oversteer, can't find the brakes, and yell to the car a lot.
This has nothing to do with the coxes' former driving ability.
Stick Richard Petty in a cox seat for a while, they'll take his
drivers license away. Coxes also begin to squint a lot, no loss in
vision, they just squint.
Stroke: 'It's a tough job but only I can do it.' The meekest, most
frightened non-rower in the world - when plugged reluctantly in
the stroke seat, stays meek up until the first few strokes. The
first few paddle strokes, a thought grows in the wimps' sniveling
little mind that this job is his/hers for life. Back on the shore,
the real personality will percolate back to the surface. 'I hope
you guys could follow me ok'. In the boat they're thinking: 'stop
rushing, you weenies!" Strokes are born and made to be the most
competitive person in the boat by far, and if they stroke long
enough, become overly competitive in everything they pursue, or
don't pursue.. Don't expect to finish a game of Monopoly, Risk, or
Golf with a stroke. The only one that can beat him to the chow line
is the three man (more later) because the stroke was delayed trying
to put more oars away in the rack than anyone else.
Seven: the seven seat is the Bitch Niche. I don't know if whining,
overly bossy, big mouthed complainers are born, and I can't believe
that the cosmic effect of this seat could possibly be so
instantaneous, but you could teach Mother Theresa to row in a tank,
stick her in an eight at seven for the first time, and as the stern
four is rowing away from the dock, she'll turn around and yell at
the bow four to 'set up the f*cking boat'. The longer one rows at
seven, the more sophisticated and complex the bitching becomes,
changing from a crude verbal rowing suggestion to the six man in
the early stages to long winded level-voiced reasoned treatises
after every piece explaining why the crew is slower now than last
week. Ever wonder why when a coach drives up shell-side to ask how
a piece went he says: 'So how did that go, fellas? -Not you
seven.' I was a team captain, looked up to leader of my college
crew, kept my mouth shut and did my job. I raced one week at seven,
my coach told me to 'shut up Sullivan' in a post race meeting.
Women who deal with severe PMS mood swings will find those swings
totally disappear after some time at seven. Permanent OTR.
Six: If you bred Arnold Swartzeneggar with a Golden Retriever, you
get a six. Six is also Seven's yin. The gentle giant, gorilla in
the mist. Six absorbs most of seven's bitching and keeps it from
moving through to the rest of the crew. Six nods and agrees a lot.
It is a hard thing for a normal person to row six. It seems like
such a great seat, you're in the stern, the boats more stable here,
but you are done with a rowing career at six, you find you been
used. Sixes are characterized by great competence in execution of
rowing and life, but poor self confidence and a propensity to
self-flagellation. Take your 3 year stroke out of the stroke seat
and stick him/her at six for a week. This will be the first time
you ever hear him/her say: 'My fault, fellas', at the end of a poor
piece. Sixes meditate. Sixes marry, go to work for, and lend their
power tools to sevens. This support system keeps sevens with
thriving businesses, mates they can walk all over, and a garage full
of power tools at their disposal that they don't have to fix when
they break.
Five: God. Yahweh. Allah. Buddha. It's not that the five seat IS
those things, it's just that's how (s)he gets treated. Five's stool
don't stink, the catches don't hang. They're the older brother or
sister that gets special treatment, and has no idea. If a photo is
taken of the crew, five will look great, everyone else is caught
with shirtaills out, and snot on the lip. At heart and soul, five
forgets to change oil, pay phone bills, and turn in the forms to the
IRS. Five is an example of what happens to a bum that is treated
like a king, they act like one. Five has the greatest delta between
image and reality. The fortunate thing is that the unearned
unabashed worship lasts only as long as the time on the water.
Five's on his own back at home. Five wears aviator glasses.
Four: The Amnesia-seat. Take a genius with a photographic memory.
Row said genius at four. Listen to him ask for the third time in
the same warmup. 'How many of these 500s are we doing?'. Four seat
is not stupid, just has immediate and catastrophic memory loss.
At a start and 20, four settles at 21 because in the time the cox
yelled 'settle in two', he forgot. In a Novice boat where the seats
have been removed and cleaned, it'll be four's that went back in
backwards. Four will forget to tell the boatman about his(her)
stripped rigger nut - usually from the time he is told by the coach,
until he arrives at the boatman's bench wondering what he's doing
there. On that first day on the water as the ice is breaking up,
who is rummaging around the back of the boathouse looking for a
sweatshirt? Four is why racing shirts are handed out on race day.
Three: Late in the water. Late to practice. Late to class. Late
to work. Late out of the water. Late to his date. Late to the team
bus. Late for everything but chow line. There is no competitiveness
involved here, just an uncanny knack to have the first three rowers
into the dining hall stopped by friends for a brief discussion while
three breezes on by to the tray stack. Three generally gets
assigned a sitter.
Two: Lean to the Left, Lean to the right, stand up sit down fight
fight fight. Cheerleader. What is amazing, is to sit at four or
five after a particular piece - seven is whining about the balance,
the spacing, no swing, rushing: two is back there with pom poms
saying: ALL RIGHT GUYS! LETS DO THAT AGAIN!.... Two calls out
names of power 10s. 'Awright guys - OAR CLASH TEN!' If he says
something funny, he repeated something the bowman prompted him with.
Bow: comedian. The bow seat creates a strange fatalism. They know
that in a catastrophic collision, they'll be the only one to die
or get paralysed. Consequently there is a constant quiet stream of
one-liners that two or three could probably hear if two were
not cheering loudly. If the bow is joined by a cox in a
front-loader, this trait completely disappears, since someone is now
likely to hear him joke about three being late, five not pulling
hard, or the coxn's course looking like a signature. (S)he can be
humorless and witless off the water, but on the water when there is
breath to spare, you're sure to catch a chuckle if you listen.
Conclusion:
There is no possible use for this info. You don't necessarily stick
your most competitive athlete at stroke. Stick anyone there and
they'll get competitive. It takes a long time for some of these
seat traits to manifest themselves in personality disorders, but you
can usually catch subtle differences the first day.
Just this fall, doing a temp coaching job for the first couple weeks
of the season, one of the crew was sick one day. I'd laid out a
plan of drills to reinforce what we'd spent some intense teaching
time on the day before. We were also going to get a couple few hard
miles in at a low rate by sixes. I had a sense that I'd do the crew
more good by filling out a seat for them than by yammering from the
launch. It makes the transitions go smoother in the sixes rotation
and I figured I could watch them while not rowing. I told the crew
what the work and goals were of the day. Then I told them I'd row
four (missing port). I left the clipboard behind knowing what we
were going to do. We rowed away from the dock, the cox started us
going with what I'd verbally laid out. Halfway through the workout,
she asked me 'what's next'. 'What's next what?' says I. 'What's
next in the workout, coach?' (I honestly wondered why she called me
coach at that moment, and couldn't remember the workout.)
I also suddenly remembered I was supposed to be watching rowers'
blade depths while I was out and hadn't been............. Four.
Mike
Sullys Maze
is on the net would print this previous article and give it
to JD. (Wendy's hubby - a lifelong seven).
Thankee!
Mike
Shashi Buluswar
That was good.
Now who'll volunteer to do a single sculler's personality portrait?
-shashi
Peter Forrest
Sullys Maze <GC....@forsythe.stanford.edu> wrote:
>Here's my long awaited theory on personality traits of the different
>seats of an eight. This assumes a straight port-stroked stern coxed
>eight.
>
>
I saved this article. The next time some non-rower asks why I row, I'll
show them this article. Oh sure there's the competiton, the victories, the
goals, but when I'm 40 and paralyzed with chronic back pain, I won't
remember all that. I'll remember the people I can match up to those
descriptions.
Peter Forrest
Argonaut Rowing Club
Lightweight Men
Robert Eikel
The bowman is there for a reason. He's the smallest, or has the weakest
erg, or (depending on the coach) has the worst technique in the boat. Bow
knows this. He knows that he is the junior fellow in the eight, no matter
what. He also knows that (at least in a stern-cox) he lives in his own
little world; nobody sees him, nobody's counting on him to be a
boat-mover, he's just *there*. Bow is the closest an eight or four gets
to single sculling.
Robert
PHA...@esoc.bitnet
Paul.
Hugh Ainsley
>erg, or (depending on the coach) has the worst technique in the boat.
Bow
>knows this. He knows that he is the junior fellow in the eight, no
matter
>what. He also knows that (at least in a stern-cox) he lives in his own
>little world; nobody sees him, nobody's counting on him to be a
>boat-mover, he's just *there*. Bow is the closest an eight or four gets
>to single sculling.
She sure as hell aint in any boat i put together! I've always regarded
the two bow seats as the ones requiring the most technical ability - it
terms of responsibility for NOT mucking up a piece I reckon the order of
responsibility is 6,bow,stroke... The bow pair are unprotected by anyone
else from bad water etc and often being less powerful than some in the
crew need excellent technique to not throw the balance at the end of the
stroke.
I actually find it odd that anyone thinks of anyone in a crew as more or
less valuable than anyone else - the responsibilities of the different
seats are simply different and so require different approaches and
coaching. If one of the boats I'm racing has eight people in it who have
such judgemental attitudes (they can't be dignified with the term crew!)
I'll be pretty sure I haven't a lot to worry about in a close race... its
integrated crews that win races, not eight people pulling oars!
hugh @ Marlow Rowing CLub
Evan Cooch
that I ultimately couldn't handle, hence, my rapid migration to singles.
There, the only ego, whiny voiced malcontent I had to deal with was myself.
Of course, singles rule because they have to do EVERYTHING by themselves, but
thats another story! :-)
Evan Cooch
an...@mec.hw.ac.uk
Firstly - excelent Jungian article on the archetypes of the people who stop
the various seats rattling. Most amusing for someone who gets moved up and
down the boat like fingers up a brides nightie.
Some serious points come out though? What do you want from the various seats.
I remember Dan Topolski commentating on the boat race some time ago. He also
expressed the opinion that possibly the most crittical seat in the boat is VI.
His idea was that its the engine room, has to follow stroke, but also pick the
boat up in the pushes. This opinion was echoed by my old head coach, Drew
Robertson, who said that for anything longer than the sprint, the strokes job
is now largely done with the aid of the cox box, to some extent de-skilling
the seat. Tell that to your drama queens! :-)
Certainly, putting the strongest and (argueably) most accomplished bloke at VI
in our boat improved matters from having him at VII. We had to bow rig, but
it worked out okay since the end rowers could row both sides. VII really only
needs to keep in time without seeing strokes spoon, otherwise stroke is rushed
or can't get to the rates he wants.
The bow seat also has special requirements. In order to let the bows lift he
should be one of the lightest in the boat. Because the bows lift he needs to
have a good feel for the catch since at full tilt he will have his hands much
higher at the catch and lower at the finish (due to the greater bounce high
speeds and rates give). This change in height also means that the bow's
catches and finishes have to be faster and neater. The front of a big boat
is therefore technically very demanding. If you can't get the boat to sit and
run at high speeds/ rates, try getting bow pair to wake their ideas up. As an
idea of how difficult bow is, Drew was a reasonably accomplished oarsman, both
fit and young, and was asked to sit in for Agecroft first VIII since their bow
man was injured. Agecroft happened to be a veteran VIII at that time. As
soon as the sprints started Drew became completely unable to put any work onto
the blade. The finishes were so sharp, and there was such a surge of power in
the send, that attempting to draw through in the bow seat resulted in him
becoming late, or even stuck in and winded. Mind you, Agecroft were Veterean
world champions that year, they're quite big boys who can lean on an oar ...
I suppose anyone who sits in a seat for any length of time thinks that they're
in the crittical position. At our club, the III seat was called the ejector
seat. This was because III was always the one with the least secure seat in
the first VIII. Whether this is through design or (bad) luck I can't say, but
I was glad to be moved back a seat! No only did it give me some feeling of
security, rough weather always seemed to bypass two, saving its thunder for
III.
Just my two-penneth.
Nick
MEC...@uk.ac.hw.vaxa
Joan Miles Smith
: Here's my long awaited theory on personality traits of the different
: seats of an eight. This assumes a straight port-stroked stern coxed
: eight.
: Therefore, a bucket rigged port stroked bow coxed eight is not
: included in this theory.
OK, then, what ABOUT the bucket??? I was six seat rigged starboard,
stern coxed. What kind of traits do I have?!?!
I thought this was hysterical and I plan on mailing a copy to
all of my boatmates from '92.
Joan
Robert Eikel
>>The bowman is there for a reason. He's the smallest, or has the weakest
>>erg, or (depending on the coach) has the worst technique in the boat.
>Bow
>>knows this. He knows that he is the junior fellow in the eight, no
>matter
>>what. He also knows that (at least in a stern-cox) he lives in his own
>>little world; nobody sees him, nobody's counting on him to be a
>>boat-mover, he's just *there*. Bow is the closest an eight or four gets
>>to single sculling.
>She sure as hell aint in any boat i put together! I've always regarded
>the two bow seats as the ones requiring the most technical ability - it
I agree myself. But I have seen coaches who "load" the boat in decreasing
order of ability from stroke backwards. IMHO, your talent goes in stern
and bow pairs to get rhythm and set all along the length; your muscle
goes in the engine room (that's why they call it that, eh?)
Robert
Jay Feenan
In article <cooch.28...@fraser.sfu.ca>, co...@fraser.sfu.ca (Evan Cooch) writes...
.
.
.
>In follow-up to all this, it was this "diversity" of personalities in a crew
>that I ultimately couldn't handle, hence, my rapid migration to singles.
>There, the only ego, whiny voiced malcontent I had to deal with was myself.
.
.
I've read into this that you use to row starboard :-)
-Jay Feenan
POWER10
(Robert Eikel) writes:
I would like to put in a good word for bow-persons. The bow rower needs to
have the strength and technique to keep the shell set. He or she is the first
to feel
it when the boat falls down to stbd, just like "stroke" gets upset when it goes
dn
to port. A good BOW has to be assertive, even though he/she sits "miles" away
from the coxn--"Get it off starboard" and if not, what happens to your start
or your "power10" ?? Let's hear it for BOW. !!!
pow...@aol.com
hart...@guvax.acc.georgetown.edu
Robert, I am curious as to how these opinions concerning the nature
of bowmen were formulated. It says you are logging in via Harvard. Did
you row there? If so, how many years, and in what boats?
The Bowman is usually one of the more technically proficient
oarsmen in the boat. He is not necessarily weaker than anyone else. I
sure as hell expect my bowman to be moving boat. If not, then we'll
get a new bowman! And furthermore, he BETTER NOT BE SINGLE SCULLING
back there! I think the post by someone from Princeton made a goo
dpoint (the one in which he stated their bowman pulled a 7:44 for
2500m). The bow seat is just as important as any seat.
Amy Abbot
Before deriding any one seat's role in the boat, try racing a seven...
Robert Eikel
Good coaches do put the technically proficient in bow. But I have seen
(bad) coaches who just put the worse oarsmen in bow and forget about
them. And either way, it's the lighter and shorter (though not
necessarily weaker) who tend to end up in stern and bow pairs, especially
stroke and bow seats.
And hey, I consider the bit of space behind my seat to be my own private
world -- 2 feet more room than anyone else!
Robert