Friday, September 27, 2013

On Coxing Novice Women

Against my better judgment, I recently agreed to take on the mantle of “Part-Time Novice Women’s Coxswain,” a position that is now displayed prominently on my résumé. Like 4 or 5 Doritos Lokos Tacos to Tajh Boyd, rowing is something that I thought I didn’t need, but kept calling me back with its spicy shells and occasionally palatable fillings. 

Take three of these, some liquor, and a blender and you've got yourself a Long Island Spiced Tajh. 

Wanting to participate, but not wanting to physically benefit from my efforts, I asked the novice coaches Savannah and Nolan to please let me corrupt their youth, and they excitedly (exuberantly, even) agreed. Suckers.

I was tasked with helping teach the novice women how to row while steering them around a lake. Having rowed for some years, I thought this would be an easy matter. Sucker.

Ok, wow, there’s a lot of these novice women things here. I wonder if any of them have rowed before? Will they know if I mess up? That would be embarrassing. No, that’s silly talk. They’re more afraid of me than I am of them. Or is that spiders? Am I coxing a boat full of spiders? God, what a nightmare that would be. None of them seems to have 8 legs. I’m just going to do this.

Pictured: Novice woman?
“Alright, ladies, let’s get hands on the Jane!” Only two legs, not eight…
“Step it out. Up and over heads. And up!” I don’t see any fangs…
“Ok, let’s walk it out.” If one of them starts scurrying towards me, I will scream like a girl and throw shoes at her.

After getting them down to the docks, I had convinced myself that I had a boat full of what were probably humans. At any rate, they were smart creatures and learned a lot more quickly than I had, so I was grateful for that. Everything was going smoothly until I asked if anyone had any questions.

“…”

A bevy of Mean Girls quotes flooded my mind, always prepared for awkward moments. I selected one I thought would be appropriate.

No. Not that one.
“It’s okay to ask dumb questions. I’m not like a regular coxswain. I’m a cool coxswain. Right, Regina?” I said, directing the question at my stroke seat. The response was…tepid at best. I was about to give up until one of them asked, “What is a regatta like?”

Grateful for the question from Susie Q. Wolfspider, I launched into an explanation of race day, what we could expect, and who some of our competition was. This led to other questions, and practice proceeded as normal, with most of the awkwardness subsiding from my feeble attempt at humor. We took the boat back up into the boathouse without issue.

“Up and over heads. And up!” Today was a good day!
“Down to low heads. And down!” I think we’ve really established a good rapport as a boat.
“Walk it into racks. And down! You're free to go.” I’m really looking forward to tomorrow’s pra-

Suddenly, an ear-splitting scream echoed throughout the boathouse and about 20 shoes went flying. One of the little novice spiders had scurried at me, fangs bared, hissing something about “Thanks.” So if anyone knows of any other sports I could get involved with now, that would be great.

Notes:
1.     It's actually been a lot of fun coxing the novice women lately.
2.     I haven’t noticed any spider-like tendencies from any of them, aside from maybe quietly blending into the corner once in a while.
3.     It’s been one of the most rewarding experiences of my semester watching new rowers learn to excel at the sport.
4.     So thank you Savannah, Nolan, and all the novice women for this opportunity.

5.     And seriously, to the spider that builds a web outside my door every morning, I will find you, and I will burn you with a bug spray flamethrower a la Boy Scout.