The gorgeous weather of late October lures me outside. Crisp afternoon air and dappled light through the trees make every outdoor moment an exclamation. At the boatyard, low sun blazes directly in my eyes, almost blinding me. I ride in the coach’s launch and shout instructions from a megaphone.
On the river, we’re all serious and concentrating. As soon as we dock, though, the rowers’ banter and posture become more playful. They’ve had an exhilarating row. I can feel it. They’ve made remarkable improvement this season! It’s so nice to be back in the coach’s seat after three weeks out with a broken wrist.
Our last regatta of the season is tomorrow. We’re as ready as we’ll ever be. It’s Halloween night, and I’m worried the kids will stay out too late, eat too much candy, and not be in good shape.
I don’t think there’s another sport where, on race day, the coaches send the team off and wish them good luck, then never even see the race. Competitors row 3.1 miles down a windy course, visible in the distance only through binoculars. I hope they don’t clash oars with another team, I hope they don’t hit any sand bars or rocks jutting out. I hope the coxswain steers well, says the right things. I hope nobody catches a crab.
I’ve done all I can; now it’s up to them.
Like teaching and parenting, coaching is about the gradual release of responsibility. It’s the end of the season. I want everyone to have a great race tomorrow, feel successful and come back next season with a renewed vigor — and a few friends.
I’m ready to be done with this responsibility for a few months.
