Coxing in the boat race – The crew’s ‘daemon’

Alastair Mavor speaks to former boat race cox Ed Bosson, and three-time boat race competitor and multiple Olympic gold medalist Sir Matthew Pinsent, to get an idea of what a cox really does.

When 16 hulking figures of the respective Oxford and Cambridge University crews emerge from their boathouse a little after 5 pm on Sunday afternoon, it would be only natural for all the attention to swing to one of numerous towering Olympians or international rowers on show. The race is blessed with several of them this year, none better regarded than Oxford’s stroke Constantine Louloudis, who won Bronze as part of the British eight in London two years ago, and his counterpart from Cambridge, the 6 foot 5 inch American Henry Hoffstot.

The sheer weight, power and aerobic capability of these physical phenomena lend one to think they will undoubtedly be the chief gladiators in the battle on the tideway in the following 17 minutes. They will, in many respects. Yet arguably the crew members who have the potential to make or break a race like no other, will be those directing affairs as the two boat up. Weighing in at just half the body mass, and measuring up more than a foot shorter than the men in front of them in the stroke seat, are the two coxswains.

A little like the daemons in Philip Pullman’s ‘His Dark Materials’, there has always been a mystical intrigue about the role of the cox in the boat. They are constantly in the ear of their crew, warning, encouraging and cajoling them. Like daemons and their humans, coxes and their crews represent two entities within one body. Yet such is the precocious energy that they deliver on race day, it is sometimes hard not to be left with the impression that they are the dominant partner in the pair. Nobody who watched last year’s race can forget Oskar Zorilla, Oxford’s cox, shrieking and swearing his crew to victory up the tideway. Such was the uproar that apologies from both him and the BBC had to be issued.

It was somewhat ironic that one of the most sophisticated, gentlemanly sporting events, contested on a fine spring Sunday afternoon on the River Thames, became arguably more memorable for it’s post-watershed content than it’s on the water content. Even though the 2012 race has been remembered for the drama surrounding a protester in the water, few will forget the subsequent clash, when Oxford Cox Zoe de Toledo ignored numerous warnings from the umpire to steer dangerously close to the Cambridge boat, break an oar, and struggle to the finish, several lengths behind Cambridge. As four-time Olympic Gold Medal winner, and twice boat-race victor Matthew Pinsent points out, “the race in 2012 shows that a cox can very easily win or lose your crew the race with one good or bad decision.”

Yet there is also sometimes a perception that the cox’s role is in some way inferior to the rest of the crew; that all they really do is just steer and shout; that they don’t have to make the same commitments as the 8 men in front of them in the boat. Increasingly I sense, perhaps through my own ignorance, that nobody outside of rowing really knows what a cox actually does. Ed Bosson, who coxed the Cambridge boat to victory in their dramatic triumph in 2012, agrees to help to set the record straight.

The two crews approach Hammersmith Bridge in 2012 just before the controversial ‘man in the water’ and oar clash which rendered Oxford effectively a man down

“In a sense, the cox is like a coach in the boat,” the 20-year-old Pemberton College student explains. Bosson is also keen to emphasise that the role is almost more important during the training period, as it is on race day.

“We had to be there at every session. So it’s obviously a huge time commitment.” A typical cox’s day begins at the same time as when many students are tucking into bed at the end of the previous day!

“The alarm goes off at 5.45 am,” Ed tells me. He would wolf down a bowl of cereal and leave his college in time to arrive at Goldie, the Cambridge boat house, for 6.20 to help set up the ergos ahead of the rowers arrival for the first session of the day at 6.30.

The literal meaning of the word ‘coxswain’ is ‘boat servant’, and as Ed explains his morning duties to me, I cannot help but think that there are few etymologies of words that are quite so appropriate for that of the coxswain. He would spend the next hour and a half opening windows, refilling water bottles and, when the crew depart following the end of their land session at 8 am, would stay behind and don a mop and bucket to divest the floor of the gym of the floods of sweat and sick that have accumulated during the session.

“I didn’t enjoy that part,” Ed remarks. It’s hard to imagine anyone would! After a morning full of labs and lectures, he would cycle back down to Goldie at 1 pm, scoffing a sandwich and getting into his waterproofs en route, before squashing into a packed minibus which would transport the crew to Ely for their afternoon session on the water.

Amidst the stunning spring sunshine of the last month, it is only too easy to forget that the majority of the hard training for the Boat Race is done in the frostbitten months of winter. This is a tough enough prospect for the rowers, but the cox does not have the ‘luxury’ of being able to row to warm themselves up in the backdrop of the chilly Fen winds. Freezing, and usually pretty exhausted, Ed would then head back off to college, study until midnight, before heading to bed to do the same thing again just 6 hours later!

I wonder if it was possible to enjoy such a demanding schedule. “I did find it fairly frustrating at times,” he tells me. “Especially during the morning sessions as there’s not a lot you are actually doing apart from trying to make things easier for the guys. Free time doesn’t really exist either.”

Even when a cox can muscle some free time, he (or she) is very often burning the calories on the spin bike. The desire to ensure the boat is carrying as little unnecessary weight as possible means a cox will have to keep their weight dips under the magic 55 kg mark.

“Two weeks before the race, the coach called me over. ‘Ed, you’re still 58kg. Start doing something about it’.”

“It can be hard,” Ed explains. “In training, I was never really on weight, and I used to get annoyed if someone told me I should be as I didn’t really see the point of losing 2 kg before I needed to. Obviously when it got to 2 weeks before, I ate a lot less. You’re prepared to do anything to help your crew win at the end of the day. I couldn’t imagine doing it for a whole Olympic cycle though,” he pontificates. “ That was one of the factors behind stopping in the end”.

Ed Bosson lines up with Oxford cox Zoe de Toledo ahead of the 2012 race

Getting up at an ungodly hour while your mates are out partying, being chilled to the bone out on the river every day, constantly having to diet, and cleaning up sweat and sick every morning, leave me wondering why on earth you’d want to be a cox!

“Maybe you have to be a bit weird,” Ed admits!

I struggle to disagree! But aside from being a bit bonkers, I’m intrigued to know what skills a cox has to have to master the tideway. Matthew Pinsent explains to me that there are three crucial aspects: line, motivation, and tactics. Put like that, it sounds incredibly simple!

Three hours, and a walk along the course later, and it’s clear from Ed Bosson’s insight that it is far from simple. In fact, such are the complexities of the course, that two different tides can mean polar opposite lines need to be steered. The usual custom is to seek the deepest, and hence fastest, stream of water. Identifying this is tricky enough as it is, without having to consider the streams of current, and potential for choppy waters if weather conditions exacerbate the effect of the tide.

Take for example, the opening stretch of the race, from Putney Bridge to the Black Buoy opposite Craven Cottage football stadium. The coxes will usually aim to steer close to the Surrey side of the bank to benefit from the deeper water. But in choppy water, the fastest route might be closer to the Middlesex bank, where they can seek the protection of the wall which runs alongside Bishop’s Park.

There are clearly a huge number of variables, and it is one reason why coxing on the tideway is an altogether different, and tougher challenge to the 2000 metre regatta program which dominates the summer rowing calendar. In no way is coxing simple for these races, but given the additional demands of steering in the boat race, the challenges facing the smallest member of the crew on Sunday are unparalleled in the sport.

Yet despite all this, it seems steering is the aspect of racing regarded as the easiest task! “To be honest, from a rower’s point of view, steering is a given,” Pinsent tells me. “The last thing the crew want to be worrying about is whether the cox is taking the fastest line.”

Laurence Harvey (furthest right), the Oxford cox, directs his crew on The Thames ahead of Sunday’s race

In terms of motivation, it seems clear that it is not a simple matter of just bellowing commands at the crew. “Most races demand a bit of everything,” Matthew explains. “If you have a cox who just constantly shouts at the crew, it becomes boring very quickly. Often the most effective coxes are those who usually adopt an aggressive tone, but have the capacity to go very urgent and secretive if needed. The real skill is to engage with the crew. It’s a dark art in a sense.”

Ed agrees: “Don’t talk too much is one of the best pieces of advice I was given. Rowers can’t rationalise everything when they’re focussing on the rowing, so you have to be really clear and obvious with what you are saying. In 2012, I reduced everything down to 10-stroke focuses for my crew. But different crews require different things.”

During a race, or sometimes in training, everything the cox says will be recorded and sent back to the coach to analyse. It can be a crucial tool to help them to improve their commands, and often acts as a selection aide for coaches. “I hated recording myself,” Ed admits. “But it can be helpful, and Cambridge have a specific coxing coach who will help pick apart any weaknesses you have, and give you general advice on tactics.”

When it comes to the race, these tactical decisions are usually centred around when to call extra efforts from the crew – known as pushes. “You have to be very alert,” Ed tells me. “It’s really important to read the race well, and if you see the other crew moving off, then you have to respond in a way that maybe you wouldn’t need to in any other type of race”.

In the boat race, if one crew can open up an advantage of more than a length, they can move across to occupy the inside of the bend, thereby negating any advantage their opponent has. “In 2012, the tactics were very much if Oxford start to move, then you must go with them. If they get out to a certain point, then you have a set do or die push where you put it all out there to try and hold them to under a length. We nicknamed ours a V8 push. You have to do everything you can to stay within a length really; once a crew gets clear water, more often then not it is race over,” Ed explains.

Pinsent has gained a new perspective on the role of coxing since taking up his place on the eight-strong umpiring panel who take it in turns to officiate at the race. Indeed, he umpired last year’s race, and assisted John Garrett in controversial circumstances in 2012. From his time rowing in the race, to his time umpiring, coxing has changed a lot. “It used to be all about ‘putting paint on the blades of the other crew’. Now it’s much less aggressive,” he observes.

He likens it to the change in the style of football, and suggests it is a positive shift, which he tries to incorporate into his umpiring. “When I’m umpiring, I try to make it clear to the coxes to give their crew a clear run at the race.” The nature of the twisting course means that coxes will inevitably try to force their opposing number off line, and away from the inside of the bend. This can be difficult for an umpire, Matthew points out. “In a close race, you can end up on the megaphone nearly all the time. Providing the coxes respond to your warnings though, there isn’t usually a problem.”

He has a word of warning for the two coxes on Sunday though. “If they don’t listen, and there’s a clash as there was in 2012, there is always the possibility of a disqualification. That is the worst thing that can happen. It’s a very big bit of water, a very complicated race and a very public environment.”

The Cambridge crew, coxed by 18 year old Ian Middleton, finish their final session on the river ahead of Sunday’s race

Nobody wants to be the cox who is responsible for their crew being disqualified from the boat race. They may well have put in the earliest, longest, and most menial hours of all the competitors who venture out onto the tideway on Sunday, but the thought of having to apologise to their crew for a race-ruining mistake will be far more sickening than anything they have had to clear up in the gym over the past year.

Whether you liken their role to a conductor in an orchestra, the pilot in an aeroplane, or a daemon to a human, a cox’s role is far more complex than it first appears to the naked eye or ear. When Ian Templeton and Laurence Harvey attach their microphones to their heads, and take control of their rudders on Sunday, a little daemon in their ear may well remind them of their unrivaled capacity to win or lose the race for their crew. They may be small, but they will bear a burden, pressure, and responsibility greatly disproportionate to their frame.