Bumps to the Head: The 2014 Oxford Summer Eights - Part 1

The view from Folly Bride showing the Oxford college boathouses and the finish of the bump racing course. The pall of smoke hanging over the scene is from numerous barbecues run by the various boat clubs. I had expected that Oxford would provide a lunch of roast swan or perhaps plovers’ eggs send down from Brideshead, but instead I had to content myself with a couple of burnt sausages.

Tim Koch writes:

It is a truth universally acknowledged that the British, if they possibly can, will take a perfectly sensible sport and devise a race:

1) With rules so complex that they are impenetrable to any outsider.

2) Which is so potentially dangerous that, had it been invented today it would be banned.

3) Where there is a clear hierarchy that is very difficult to challenge.

3) That has its own nomenclature and arcane rituals.

4) Where the spectators can drink copious amounts of alcohol in very pleasant surroundings and treat actually watching the racing as an option.

The form of boat racing known as ‘bumps’ at Oxford University’s ‘Summer Eights’ or ‘Eights Week’ ticks all these boxes – but this is not a criticism. In fact, ‘Eights’ is a brilliant and fair way of allowing the maximum number of participants of extremely varying abilities to race on a most unsuitable stretch of river and, moreover, it results in a large proportion of them becoming ‘winners’ in one way or another.

A (distorted) early afternoon panoramic view of many of the college boathouses, which are actually on a little island formed by the River Cherwell forking as it flows into the Isis (as the Thames at Oxford is known). My report on the history of Oxford boathouses was on HTBS in April 2013 and there is a map of the Isis here.

A typical scene early in the racing day, before the big crowds arrive. The Jesus College boathouse is on the left and that of Keble College is on the right.

Alumni show the youngsters some style.

On Saturday, 31 May, I was very pleased to be the guest of Jack Carlson, the coach of the Oriel College Men’s First Eight, at the fourth and final day of the 2014 Summer Eights. It was a very good year to be associated with Oriel as their top men’s crew went ‘Head of the River’. In this post, part one of my report from Oxford, I will explain what this means, attempt to show how Eights Week works and try to convey some of the atmosphere of this great occasion. In part two I will concentrate on Oriel Boat Club, its Head Crew and some of the wonderful traditions that surround one of the most successful of all the Oxford University college boat clubs.

The last ‘college barge’ left on the river. Unfortunately, it is now a private residence. The HTBS report mentioned above gives a short history of Oxford barges which were once used in place of boathouses.

Human sacrifices of coxswains are permitted during Eight’s Week. Here, Trinity offer up their cox to the God of Rowing.

Term is not yet over. Spectators in a punt get some work done between races.

In ‘bump racing’ a number of boats chase each other in single file, each trying to catch (‘bump’) the boat in front without being caught by the boat behind. In Summer Eights physical contact is not actually required (though there often is) and once there is overlap of bow and stern, the ‘bumped’ cox should raise his/her hand and concede. The first such race recorded at Oxford was in 1815 when Brasenose raced Jesus. It originated because the river is too narrow for side by side racing. Both at Oxford and at Cambridge (where the river is also tight) there are two sets of bump racing per year, one in early spring and one in early summer. On the Cam they are called ‘Lent Bumps’ and ‘May Bumps’ and on the Isis they are known as ‘Torpids’ and ‘Summer Eights’. The exact rules of each event vary in detail.

Women’s Division 5. Jesus II bump Worcester III after a few seconds of rowing.

Men’s Division 2. Lincoln concede a bump by New College opposite the island boathouses.

Men’s Division 2. Pembroke II bump Christ Church II very near the finish.

Summer Eights are held over four days and consists of seven men’s and six women’s divisions. Each division has thirteen boats and 35 of the colleges that make up the University of Oxford enter in total between two and (this year) nine crews of varying ability. There is a divisional race every 30 - 40 minutes, alternating between the men and the women.

In high divisions where crews may contain Elite rowers, Blues or even Olympians, the racing can be close and may last for much of the course, but in lower divisions the difference in standard between crews and coxes increases and so does the general chaos. Here bumps can happen very soon after the start. If the speed of two boats is dramatically different then boats can be damaged – to the despair of the boatmen but to the delight of the spectators. The boats in the lowest divisions may consist of crews that a college football team or tennis club has put together for the occasion. The rule of thumb is that if a crew is wearing Lycra in their boat club colours, they are probably serious rowers. If a boat consists of eight fairies coxed by a giant chicken, they are almost certainly not real ‘boaties’. In her blog on the 2008 Eights, Sarah Laurence said of the lower divisions: Curiously, the combination of highly unmanoeuvrable boats, inexperienced coxes, high speeds and confined spaces doesn’t always end well.

The rules state: Each boat shall be started from a rope 50 feet in length, held by the coxswain, with the other end of the rope fastened to a post on the tow path. The distance between each starting post shall be 130 feet (40 metres). Here the cox for Regents Park Boat Club in Women’s Division 5 holds her starting rope.

Women’s Division 5 on the start. The boatmen use long poles to stop the boats drifting in or out too far. With about 20 seconds to go they gently push the boats out from the bank (the coxes still holding the ropes) and the crews ‘come forward’ ready to race in anticipation of the shot from the starting cannon. In former times the boatmen would drink beer between races and this often resulted in impaired and rather dangerous handling of the unwieldy poles by the end of the day.

Men’s Division 5 take their first stroke.

On the first day of racing, the starting order of each division is the finish order of last year’s race. In Summer Eights, when a bump is made both boats pull over to the side and do not race any more that day. The result is that crews often have to sprint continuously and not ‘settle’ in mid-race as in normal regattas. Crews who successfully bump the boat in front of them (or ‘bump up’) exchange starting positions the following day. Thus, over four days of racing a crew may only rise a maximum of five places and this means, for example, that to go to ‘Head of the River’ in any one year, you have to start in the top five of Division One. For many boat clubs, any chance of getting to the top of their division means that they need several years of ‘bumping’ their way up their table of thirteen crews. A look at part of this year's 'bump chart' may make things clearer.

Men’s and Women’s Division One, 2014 Summer Eights.

Taking the top three men’s crews as an example, the above chart shows that in 2013 Pembroke College (PCBC) were ‘Head’, followed by Christ Church (ChChBC) and then Oriel (OCBC). On the Wednesday of the 2014 Eights, Pembroke did not bump and were not bumped (i.e. they ‘rowed over’) and so they stayed in first place. However, Oriel bumped Christ Church so OCBC went up to second place and ChChBC went down to third place. On the Thursday, the second day, Oriel bumped Pembroke and Christ Church rowed over. Thus Oriel went up to first place, Pembroke went down to second place and Christ Church stayed third. They all remained in these positions for the next two days of racing as none of them bumped or were bumped, that is they all rowed over. There is a further complication – the boat that finishes first in each division may row as the ‘Sandwich Boat’ at the bottom of the division above in the same day’s racing. If you understood this you are ready to look at the full 2014 results, here for the men and here for the women.

Men’s Division 5. Oriel III about to bump Trinity III. They are in ‘The Gut’, a bendy part of the course that many inexperienced (and some experienced) coxes have failed to negotiate.

A view from Donnington Bridge near the start. In Men’s Division 5, Regent’s Park chase Christ Church III. They eventually bumped them.

Tim Foster, Olympic Gold medallist in coxless fours in 2000, now an MBA student at Keble. Here he is umpiring before he rowed in the Keble First VIII in Division One later in the day. A crew mate in the boat was Storm Uru, the New Zealand Lightweight International and bowman of this year’s victorious Blue Boat. In the end, Keble bumped on three of the four days.

I managed to catch a few words with Tim, widely regard as one of the all time great technical rowers, especially effective in the vital but often unrecognised seat behind the stroke.

Tim K: An obvious question, you are rowing in a boat of a slightly lower standard than you have done in the past, what’s the attraction?

Tim F: Well, partly I am a slightly lower standard rower than I was in the past but also it’s been really good fun, it has reminded me of what rowing is about and it’s been a great chance to come back and race after about 14 years of retirement.

Tim K: You have a younger superstar to help you out, Storm Uru, how’s that?

Tim F: Actually it’s great. I think he’s claimed that I’m in the boat to make him feel not so old .... It’s been great to row with him and to see why he’s such a champion....

Tim K: And now you’re helping out before you race, very much in the spirit of the event.

Tim F: Yes, it’s a great event and it relies on everyone doing their bit, so this morning is my turn.

Men’s Division 2. St Peter’s get their reward for bumping every day and so getting ‘blades’.

The view from the top of Christ Church boathouse at the end of the island. This shot was taken towards the end of the day when the crowds had swelled, awaiting the final races in Men’s and in Women’s Division One.

Women’s Head of the River 2014: Wadham. From bow: Madeleine Butler, Anne Binderup, Lia Orlando, Rachel Anderson, Canna Whyte, Stephanie Hall, Alkaterini Mandaltsi, Elizabeth Zotti, Nicola Rodgers (Cox).

In the beginning of this piece, I indicated how clever this form of racing is, accommodating over 1500 rowers of widely differing abilities on a narrow river. I also said that it produced a fair number of ‘winners’. The obvious ones are the men’s crew and the women’s crew that go to the top of Division One, i.e. go ‘Head’. But there are those who get to the top of their respective divisions who also consider themselves victorious. Further, many are very pleased if they make one or more bumps. Those who bump every day are awarded the coveted ‘blades’, that is a illuminated oar emblazoned with the names of the crew and of the boats that they bumped (though ‘awarded’ is perhaps not the correct term, you have to buy your blade if you want one). Others are happy if they simply avoid getting bumped and go neither up nor down.

Even the worst rowers can gain satisfaction as a crew that is bumped every day gets ‘spoons’. The ‘wooden spoon’ is usually a non-literal award to a person or team that comes last in some event. HTBS did a nice post about them here. The award of spoons may in fact be welcomed as traditionally the British take great pride in doing something really badly. We like to dwell on our ‘glorious failures’ such as the Charge of the Light Brigade, the retreat from Dunkirk or Scott’s race to the South Pole rather than promulgate our historic successes (assuming that we have any). It sometimes seems that we are more impressed by those bumped ten strokes off the start than by those who go ‘Head of the River’. Win or lose though, Summer Eights is a great event.

Men’s Head of the River, the final order. Oriel, Pembroke, Christ Church, Magdalen.

Head of the River 2014: Oriel. From bow: Charles Cornish, Rufus Stirling, Kelvin Jackson, Calum Pontin, Malcolm Howard, Christopher Fairweather, John Redos, William Zeng, Olivia Cleary (Cox).

Part 2 will be posted tomorrow!

Lies, Damned Lies and the 1877 Boat Race

An artist’s view of the finish of the 1877 Oxford - Cambridge Boat Race.

Tim Koch writes:

Those of us who grandly award ourselves the title of ‘historian’ like to think that we are in constant pursuit of  ‘the truth’ as if were some piece of buried treasure waiting to be dug up. Unfortunately, this is rarely the case. Perhaps the best known idea on the unreliability of ‘historical truth’ is that ‘history is written by the victors’. In a similar vein, Sir Winston Churchill held that ‘history will be kind to me – for I intend to write it’. Historical truth changes over time as, at best, it can only reflect the present or the dominant consensus. However, while truth may be difficult to establish, lies are (arguably) slightly easier to expose. I have spent the last few months working on a rebuttal of a very big and very entrenched lie in rowing history, that concerning the 1877 ‘Dead Heat’ Oxford - Cambridge Boat Race. Instead of producing a written piece, my intention was to make a video documentary for the internet. This I have done and the result may be viewed below. As I was nearing the end of the video production, I was very flattered to be asked to write a piece on the 1877 Race for the Official Boat Race Programme, the text of which is also below. I was restricted to a short piece of 700 words and I wrote it for a more general audience than HTBS readers, but I hope that it serves as an introduction to the 30-minute film.

From the 2014 Boat Race Programme:

1877: Oxford Won, Cambridge Too.

Tim Koch of the rowing history blog, ‘Hear The Boat Sing’, argues that the popular view of the ‘dead heat’  race of 1877 is a continuing injustice to the finish judge, Honest John Phelps.

In 2003, a thrilling Boat Race resulted in a win for Oxford by just one foot. During the post-race television analysis it was confidently stated that this was the closest of all the 149 races as the ‘dead heat’ of 1877 was, in reality, a six-foot victory for the Dark Blues. The viewing millions were told that this 126 year old travesty occurred because ‘the finish judge had been in the pub’.

That apparently inebriated official was a waterman, ‘Honest’ John Phelps, a descendant of whom is this year's Race Umpire, Richard Phelps.* Through the years, many other seemingly reliable sources have repeated and embellished different versions of this tale, usually adding that John was ‘asleep under a bush’ at the finish, only awakening to drunkenly slur ‘Dead heat…’ while adding under his breath, ‘…to Oxford by six feet’. Tellingly, different sources have Phelps giving almost any distance between four feet and ten yards.

‘Honest John’ became a music hall joke (‘Oxford won, Cambridge too!’) and ‘1877’ cast a long shadow over a proud Putney family that had served rowing well for generations. The tragedy is that the popular stories concerning John’s conduct were simply not true and, in the words of the Boat Race Official Centenary History, ‘....no good grounds have been shown for doubting the rightness of John Phelps’s decision’. Maurice Phelps, the family historian, adds that ‘...the (dead heat) decision was not only brave but almost stoic’.

An unflattering studio portrait of Honest John Phelps.

None of the lurid tales about Phelps seem to appear in contemporary accounts, they ‘emerge’ at some later point. According to rowing historian Chris Dodd, it was only after the Blues had returned to Oxford, that they and the town ‘.... daily became more imbued with the idea that (they) had won’.

While no one suggests that there was a formal conspiracy, the idea that a working class professional could not be relied upon came at a very convenient time for those who were busy formalising rules to make amateur rowing the sole preserve of gentlemen and to rid it of ‘mechanics, artisans and labourers’.

Some sections of the press had made fools of themselves by prematurely declaring that Oxford had won. Reporters were not on the finish line but on a steamer behind the crews, an impossible position from which to judge a close race. Perhaps to save face, they produced stories that proved that they were not wrong, it was the finish judge that was incompetent or drunk or blind or not at his post. An ordinary working man had little chance to refute these accusations.

Investigation into John’s character shows that he was not a stereotypical coarse and roguish waterman and that the epithet ‘Honest’ was not an ironic one. According to Maurice Phelps, even in old age his articulate and physically fit ancestor ‘had a sound reputation in Thames rowing circles’. Further, he ‘collected works of art, commented on social conditions and ...... condemned animal cruelty’. Moreover, he did not smoke and drank only beer – but never at 8.50 in the morning, the time that the race finished!

Amazingly, finish posts were not thought of as necessary because, in the 33 races that had taken place since 1829, the closest verdict had been half a length. Phelps later told the umpire that the boats were essentially level with each one going slightly ahead – or falling slightly back – depending on their place in the stroke cycle. Without exactly aligned markers, it could not be judged whose boat surged ahead at the critical second to win. Thus, ‘a dead heat’ was the only legitimate verdict that could have been given.

Phelps did not take the easy and popular option of declaring for Oxford, the favourites, and for this he paid a high price. While it is more amusing to tell the ‘drunk under a bush’ story than to tell the truth, after 137 years it is time that Honest John Phelps received due recognition for his fair and courageous verdict.



*An update was made in this article on 18 April 2014 to reflect Comments No. 1 and No. 3 ~ GRB, ed.

Images of the 160th Boat Race Part 2: The Race

‘The Event From Different Views’, The Illustrated Sporting and Dramatic News, 9 April 1881.

Tim Koch writes:

I discovered long ago that, when following a rowing race in a launch, you can either take notes and produce a written report or you can take photographs, but not both. I took the photo option and have used the results to illustrate selections from Peter McConnell’s excellent Official Race Report (here in italics) published on the Boat Race website.

On an overcast day prone to squalls and with a strong south west wind blowing this was always going to be a test of technique as well as stamina.

On the start, the coxs’ hands raised to show that they are not ready. This picture shows the problem of parallax in photographing a side-by-side race – be assured that the boats were started level!

Oxford won the toss and chose the Surrey station which would give them the advantage of the big Surrey bend a third of the way into the Race. Therefore it was Cambridge who would have the early advantage around the Middlesex bend after the end of the Fulham Wall. Off the start both crews sprinted off in the mid 40’s, Oxford taking an early lead.

Seventy five seconds into the race, Oxford lead. The long lens probably exaggerates the closeness of the Oxford ‘7’ blade and that of the Cambridge ‘2’, but the illusion turned real just under four minutes later.

As expected the crews were very close to each other with Cambridge warned by first time Boat Race Umpire Richard Phelps. The Light Blues used the bend to their advantage reeling in Oxford’s lead, hence as they passed the Town Buoy the crews were level.

At Craven Cottage (aka Fulham Football ground) just before Cambridge’s bend advantage ran out.

With both crews at 35 Oxford began to exert their power, pulling out to a 1/3 length lead along the Crabtree Reach.

Approaching the Mile Post.

The crews pictured seconds before ‘the race decider’.

... shortly after the Mile Post, 5 minutes in to the Race, came the moment that effectively settled the result. Phelps had warned Oxford who now had a 3/4 length lead, they responded but Cambridge moved with them and as the Umpire issued a warning to Cambridge the blades of Light Blue 2 man Luke Juckett came into contact with that of Sam O’Connor the Kiwi in the Oxford 7 seat. Juckett was knocked out of his stride, crabbed and was nearly thrown from the boat. Oxford seizing the moment powered away as Cambridge floundered, missing five effective strokes. Worse, Juckett’s rigger was bent meaning his pitch was completely wrong so he could only make a negligible contribution to the speed of his crew.

Juckett’s head goes under.

Juckett emerges from the deep.

Juckett recovers his seat. Bowman Thorpe recovers Juckett’s blade.

Juckett resumes rowing with a gate off pitch and no backstay.

There is ‘only’ fourteen seconds between this picture and the first of this group but this was more than enough time to decide that the race was effectively over.

At Hammersmith Bridge Oxford had an 8 second lead meaning they could choose their own water. They continued to pile on the pressure at a steady 33 strokes a minute and continued to move away from a demoralised Light Blue crew. Even with a strong headwind and rough conditions after Chiswick Eyot, Oxford’s progress was relentless.

At Hammersmith Bridge.

At Chiswick Eyot, approaching Chiswick Steps.

At Chiswick Steps the Oxford lead was 16 seconds over 5 lengths, at Barnes Bridge 28 seconds and at the finish a massive 32 seconds.

Going through Barnes Railway Bridge.

Approaching Mortlake Brewery.

The finish at Chiswick Bridge.

Cambridge cox Ian Middleton raised his hand in protest after the finish but to no avail. Richard Phelps later explained, “I was concerned where Oxford were, so I warned Oxford and they moved immediately. A second later I was happy where the crews were but I then saw the Cambridge bow just twitch-in towards Oxford, so I warned Cambridge. The next thing there was a slight contact but the impact was great.” Talking about the Cambridge appeal he said that “Cambridge’s view was that when the foul occurred Oxford were not on their station. From my perspective Oxford were on their proper station; quite clearly. Contact could only have been in neutral water or at the worst Cambridge were off their station. I advised Cambridge I was overruling their appeal.”

Cox Middleton appeals to Umpire Phelps at the finish.

The luckless Juckett. His broken backstay is clearly evident.

The damage in close up. The pin appears to be upright but it is impossible to tell how much the pitch was out, especially when pressure was applied.

The winning president Malcolm Howard thanked his crew and coach Sean Bowden for an amazing year. He felt the clash but “I don’t think it affected the outcome, we were moving really well, we’d withstood their big push early on and had started to take seats. We were moving on them and would have kept moving.”

Oxford ‘3’ man, Karl Hudspith (right) commiserates with Cambridge bowman, Michael Thorpe (left).

A jubilant Hudspith lifts the Boat Race Trophy. The score now stands at Oxford 78, Cambridge 81 with one dead heat.

On the way back to Putney, a reminder adorning Tideway Scullers’ Boathouse that next year change will come to the 161st Boat Race. In my opinion, this radical move should go further as proper equality will only occur when the men’s reserve race (Isis - Goldie) is moved from the Tideway to the Oxford - Cambridge Henley Boat Races (where the lightweights and remaining women compete) leaving Boat Race Day to the fastest men and the fastest women, full stop. Should anyone complain about ‘a break with tradition’ I would suggest that they fail to understand the paradox that ‘tradition’ can only survive by evolving, not by standing still.  

The race is now on YouTube as is the last Women’s Boat Race to be held at Henley.

Photography © Tim Koch

See also "Images of the 160th Boat Race Part 1: The Prelude".

Images of the 160th Boat Race Part 1: The Prelude

‘Humours of the Boat Race’, 1879. Clearly, humour does not age well.

Tim Koch writes:

Other reports on the 2014 Boat Race were rather conventional in that they all came out within hours of the event. Here at HTBS, we like to be different and so have waited several days before putting our take on the day online (nothing to do with me starting a new job). Part 2 will show the race, pictured from my very privileged position in the photographers’ launch.

Putney Embankment, 14.00 (2 p.m.), four hours before the 18.00 (6 p.m.) start. The Putney ‘Hard’ is fenced off to the public.

‘National Treasure’, BBC presenter Claire Balding, manages to get slight smiles out of the normally recalcitrant coaches, Steve Trapmore of Cambridge...

...and Sean Bowden of Oxford.

Oxford’s balcony scene at 15.45 (3:45 p.m.), two and a quarter hours to go.

A young Old Blue (Dark).

Two Old Blues (Light).

Six future Old Blues? Girls from London Youth Rowing sell home made cakes to raise money for new equipment.

The coin toss for stations. Umpire Richard Phelps holds the gold sovereign minted in 1829 (the year of the first race), which was presented to the Boat Race by the late John Snagge.

OUBC President Malcolm Howard flips the coin, CUBC President Steve Dudek calls.

17.05 (5:05 p.m.), Oxford takes to the water.

The Oxford bow man Storm Uru in a reflective mood. The first New Zealand Maori to row in a Boat Race, it is also unusual to find a sculler and a lightweight in the event.

Oxford ‘2’ man Tom Watson, one of many Boat Race oarsman that have originated out of the University of Victoria, British Columbia.

17.14 (5:14 p.m.): The final words of wisdom from coach Bowden are absorbed by cox Harvey and stroke Louloudis. I presume that the reflective band around the cox’s wrist is so that, if he raises his hand on the start to indicate that he is not ready, the umpire will not miss it. While this may not actually be necessary, it is a great attention to detail.

17.15 (5:15 p.m.): Oxford leave for their warm up.

17.15 (5:15 p.m.): Cambridge leave for their warm up.

The view from the photographers’ launch. Leaving the crowds on the Embankment. Old hands said that it was better before the television helicopter hovered noisily overhead when the only noise was the excited murmur of the crowd.

Going through Putney Bridge, away from the start, to await the crews going onto the stake boats.

Ten minutes before the race. Having completed their warm ups, the crews wait downriver, alone with their thoughts.

Six minutes to go. Bowden’s boys pass him on the way to the start.

Cambridge on the stake boat. Only President Dudek (4) finds humour in the situation.

17.57 (5:57 p.m.): On the start. The culmination of 1,200 hours of training. One chance. No second place. 

Photography © Tim Koch

Coming up next – ‘Images of the 160th Boat Race Part 2: The Race’.