There was movement at The Shed
for the word had passed around
on email that previous day,
that the Masters VIII had a 30 second age penalty.
The crew are too young.
The Stroke is a mere pup.
Officials agreed – their heart rates would have to go up!
The Stroke said WTF.
Stefan maintained BMI.
But Michael said that he was sure – That the CRC men would fly.
Banter in the shed was topical:
From ‘roids to tides. Anything to distract our minds.
Waiting for our final three to arrive.
Lach had it that the race was in the opposite direction.
(And unbeknowns to his crew – smuggled a secret weapon onboard).
Was it really to confuse the opposition?
James’ leg looked like he’d tried to shave it with an axe.
He had bark missing from his face.
The crew had no idea of what lay beneath
his rowing shirt. He was ready to race.
The idea of bull sharks had merit Lach!
However trying to poison your own crew on the way up with
something so strong?
Not one brave man was willing to stay in
the same air for too long!
We practiced our starts – not a more excited nine on the water there was.
The mood was far from tense.
Nerves were hidden in the mist
(Or behind Bill’s cool sunnies).
Adrenalin pulsed our bodies. The first of six.
Our 30 second penalty forgotten. We raced past our competition.
‘Led by the man who made that boat fly’ we heard the trees whisper,
as we sped by.
Little did we know
James had been dealt a wicked blow.
Under his CRC colours subdued.
Was his body, black and blue bruised.
‘Not a More Brave Stroke’ was on the water that day –
The tabloids read.
Technique was spot on, the crew in form.
The 6kms sped.
Men, not boys that day – enjoyed the win in many ways.
Stories & whispers still swirl around The Shed.
But those 9 on the water that day –
know the truth to the Legend.
About the man who made the boat fly.
A little bit of luck 