Free Rowing Against the Tide - A career in sport and politics by Martin Brandon-Bravo Page B

though most had taken up the modern swivel rowlocks and blades. These fixed pin rowlocks were usually a rectangle formed by a metal base, with two upright metal pins, and a twisted rope across the top to close the rectangle. The blades had a curved leather collar that you drew though the rowlock from the outside, and the curve of the leather collar or button, aided the finish of the stroke. We had no means at that time to take our own racing eight to regattas, and we arranged to borrow a boat from the Royal Chester Rowing Club. We made clear we would bring our own oars for the modern swivel rowlocks, but when we arrived the Chester boatman was, he said on instruction, removing the swivel rowlocks on the boat we were borrowing, and fixing the rectangular rowlocks that could only be used with the old fashioned blades that I and some others had never handled before. Regardless of our protestations, they dismissed us on the basis that since we would certainly lose the first round to the local school, it wasn’t worth leaving the boat with swivel rowlocks in place. Nothing could have wound us up more, and after a couple of outings to try out these old blades which they then provided, we duly thumped the school, went on to win the final, and the faces of the officials at prize-giving simply made our day. We had a bit of a comedian in our crew, Colin McKay, who examining the trophies and winners tankards that morning, remarked to the official setting out the pots that the Junior Eights pots were not engraved – the more senior ones did show the title of the event. With a bit of a sneer, the official said “Well we don’t know you’ve won it yet” When it came to the prize-giving and Colin received his tankard from the same official, everyone heard him say “I told you they should have been engraved this morning”.
    Later that year, I wanted to enter the novice sculls at the Bedford Regatta held then in the week after the Royal Regatta at Henley on Thames. It was one of the biggest non-metropolitan regattas in the country, and with the local club and schools, competition was always fierce. Bobby Swift did not think I was up to the right standard and was not prepared to enter me. I offered to pay my own entry fee, which was seven and sixpence old money, and when it turned out that I would have to race five times to win, he offered to return one and sixpence for each heat should I win any. He thought he was safe, but somehow I had other ideas, perhaps it was my ethnic background, but I raced like hell and won the event. Sitting exhausted just after the finish of the final against a local guy Chris Baron, all I could shout across to the celebrating club members, was “Tell Bobby I want my seven and sixpence back”. I don’t mind blowing my own trumpet but I’d busted the course record in each successive heat.
    I bought a second hand single scull later in the year, and because of business commitments concentrated on sculling rather than seeking a slot in a crew. Because of my size, I was never going to reach above club level but I did get chances to slot into crews, and over the years won my spurs in sweep oar, and sculling, up to elite level. Slotting into crews became a bit of a habit, for on two occasions we had injuries to members of our Henley Eight, and I dropped in as the only substitute allowed back then.
    But of course at under 11 stone, if I came across a Steve Redgrave type, I got my arse kicked in no uncertain manner. Sadly there wasn’t a lightweight classification back then, but even so I would have had a hard time, for we had a brilliant crop of scullers around that time, and whilst I managed to win at Reading, it was my only success on the Thames.
    Our club president Gus Darby, was a wonderful old boy, who looked and lived like someone from the Victorian era. He had a river day boat, The White Lady, that would have graced the Royal Regatta, and stepping into his home in the Park estate in the centre of the