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Navy 150 Featured in Rowing News Magazine
No Ordinary Year WITH THEIR RIVALS OFF TO GRAD SCHOOL AND WALL STREET, THE NATIONAL CHAMPION NAVY LIGHTS READY FOR WAR By JEFF MOAG
Sunrise at the Naval Academy comes amid a howling chorus of cicadas, the 17-year locusts that a week earlier emerged in their billions along the manicured banks of the Severn and raised their otherworldly cry. It's audible reminder that this is no ordinary year for Navy lightweight rowing.
Another is the sounds of the finishes rising from the silver-gray racing eight as Navy's varsity lights prepare for a series of hard 10-minute pieces. Navy lacks the drum-like finishes you expect from college crews who spend long winters flogging the ergs. Navy's finishes hiss, the eight blades unlocking at once like a powerful beast exhaling through clenched teeth. The sound pierces the morning stillness, proof of clean connection, smooth acceleration, and abundant confidence. This morning at the end of May the Navy lightweights have all that, plus an undefeated record, No. 1 national ranking, and designs on the IRA Collegiate National Championship.
The architect of it all, 28-year-old head lightweight coach Rob Friedrich, hasn't spoken since leaving the dock a quarter of an hour before. "I did plenty of talking in the fall, winter, and early spring," he says. As his eight launches into the first piece of the day Friedrich tunes sparingly, like a musician who knows he's already in the right key. An athlete skies. Another misses a little water. Friedrich corrects the errors conversationally and turns his attention to the boat as a whole. "Trust the catch," he says. "Big bend on the oar. C'mon."
Today's work is designed to build speed at base cadence. Conditions on the Severn often force Navy crews to retreat to a protected creek barely long enough for a two-minute piece. When the wind isn't up the Midshipmen often have military obligations--marching in formation, preparing for inspections, standing watch through the night--all in addition to a grueling academic load. "I've learned to be really flexible," Friedrich says of the short, intense workouts that weather and schedule dictate. "And it seems to be working."
The approach produced an exceptional start and sprint, but left the Midshipmen vulnerable in the body of their piece. Navy's duals fell into a pattern: they seized an early lead, held it through the middle, and then sprinted clear. The pattern held against preseason co-No. 1 Princeton, then-No. 3 Yale, and No. 2 Georgetown.
Next came then-No. 1 Harvard April 24 in Annapolis. The Mids took their customary half-length at the start before Harvard walked straight through them and built a commanding lead. Then, with Harvard's stern clear of their bow and two-thirds of the course already behind them, Navy launches their counterattack. "One of the things this crew really has is the ability to stay composed," says senior stroke and team captain Hunter Washburn. "We have confidence in ourselves, in each other, and in our race plan." Which is? " Go hard and then go harder."
With 700 meters to row Navy squeezed the rating two beats higher and began to move. Navy never lost their relaxed precision, not when Harvard dismantled their lead, not when the rate soared above 40 in the push for the line. Harvard, by all accounts the more talented crew, crumbled in the face of the Navy juggernaut. The verdict was Navy by five feet.
Harvard went home to, as Crimson reporter Timothy McGinn wrote with great charity, "contextualize their setback." Friedrich, meanwhile, went to work on his squad's base speed. In the May 15 Eastern Sprints showdown, Navy seized the early lead and held it. Harvard trailed by just over two seconds; Georgetown another tick behind in third.
Back on the Severn, every man in the Navy eight focuses on base speed, certain they need more of it to prevail at IRA's. Stroking 36 in the final minute of their last piece, Washburn's pristine visage finally shows a grimace. Behind him mouths hang open and eyes glaze, but the scooping catches continue just the way Friedrich likes, and the knees come down with a supple snap, lactic acid be damned.
After practice the Midshipmen gather for some contextualizing of their own. A week later they would win the IRA in characteristic fashion, powering away from a much-improved Georgetown crew in the last few hundred meters. But rowing is secondary to these young men. They are training to be warriors, and their nation is at war. In two years their rivals from elite universities will be immersed in law school, working on Wall Street, rowing on national teams. Navy rowers will lead other men into combat.
Washburn reports this summer as deck officer aboard the destroyer USS Nitze. ("Move that chain," snickers someone from the bow four. "Move it back," laughs another.) The squad's other senior, six seat Kevin Flaherty, will serve aboard submarines. The four juniors in the boat plan to enter the SEALs, and elite unit famous for its grueling training, which the juniors sampled one December weekend. "We slept about three hours the entire weekend, and we were borderline hypothermic the whole time. They had to break the ice to throw us in the water," says two seat William Vuillet. Of the 120 cadets who participated, half dropped out, and only 40 were allowed to remain in the Academy's pool of potential SEALs. All four lightweights made the cut, relying on their teammates throughout the ordeal, just as they count on each other to survive the rigors of Academy life. "I couldn't see myself going through this place without rowing," Vuillet says. His teammates murmur their agreement.
This article, written by Jeff Moag, was taken from the August edition of the Rowing News. The magazine can be found on select news stands and ordered over the internet at www.rowingnews.com
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