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

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.