Issue 7, June 2003 (Back to Contents)

Henry Morris (1996) recounts his experience of Sunday, 6th April 2003.

The Oxford crew (Click to enlarge)

Lots of people have asked me how it felt to be in the closest Boat Race of all time. I find it difficult to answer. My emotions on that day were running to boiling point, and to try and describe them is difficult. I think that only the 18 people who raced that race can understand it.

Henry Morris (Click to enlarge)

Our season had been a hard one. I missed two months of rowing in the autumn due to a broken wrist, Bas Dixon had missed four weeks thanks to a mystery virus, and finally Matt Smith broke his hand only two months before the race. We also suffered from the rising river levels, and for a couple of weeks couldn't row at all, so we were reduced to doing three hours on the erg every day! Not much fun. However we pushed through with great resolve and finally settled in the boat by mid February.

After term finished (a great relief I can tell you!) we drove to Belgium for a long weekend of speedwork on a 2k lake there. Both boats were producing encouragingly fast times (we clocked 1.38 steady state speed, and also a 1.15 for 500m) So we knew we had the top end speed, the question was whether our base pace was fast enough, especially considering our disrupted training.

On our return to the UK we raced Leander from the start to Chiswick Steps (approx. 10 mins rowing), and after taking an early lead and moving well we clashed heavily with Leander and broke a rigger. Continuing to row we let Leander power away from us to a three length win. We were gutted after that race, and furious with ourselves that we had succumbed too easily to the heavies of Leander. We vowed not to let that happen again.

Come the last two weeks and we moved to a house in Barnes where we would be based up till the race. With a new sense of commitment we rowed some fantastic steady state paddling that week, bouncing along at a rate of 21-22 and things were looking good. We ended the week with some pieces at Dorney Lake which were very solid, although not exceptional.

The weigh-in started off the final week, and the mind games really began. The press take an extraordinary amount of interest, and there was a launch full of press that followed every outing we did. We chose not to read the papers so we couldn't be put off. At the weigh-in Cambridge looked very big, and were clearly very happy that they were so much heavier and bigger than us. We got the impression that they felt like they were going to race a bunch of young schoolboys. When the weights were recorded we learned that we were giving away more than a stone a man (the most in history), and that the last time there was a similar weight deficit was 1963, when Oxford won. So we had the challenge, and we relished it. We wanted to make history.

Race Day - We got up reasonably early and went for a paddle to Chiswick Steps and back. Despite being the last outing before the race we did some technical drills, still looking for an extra foot of speed. The row dispelled the nerves, and we returned home to chill out before it was time to go again. I lay in bed thinking about all the visualisation I had done leading up to the race. Mentally preparing for how hard I would have to push myself. Imagining Cambridge beside us, ahead of us. We had done a lot of this before the race, and it was crucial that we did. Coming down to the course and the nerves came again. We tried to relax in the changing room, trying to block out the crowds and distractions. We were here to win this race. We lost the toss (for the 10th time in a row) and Cambridge chose Surrey. We were happy with the decision, ready to row round the outside of the bend. Then back in the changing room for our final talk on tactics with the coaches, before we had our own last talk together. Robin Bourne-Taylor was inspiring, convincing us that we were going to win, that they might be bigger, but we would pull harder. We hugged each other tightly, eyes welling up.

The atmosphere was electric when we boated, and seeing just how many people there were supporting, I realised what an honour it was for me to race for this fantastic boat club. We had a good warm up, calling little technical changes to make sure we had the right rhythm before we got onto the start. Sitting on the start I had a strange sense of calm. I was not nervous, just ultimately ready to race.

Cambridge close the gap as the crews approach the finish (Click to enlarge)

Go! We were off, and after a messy first stroke we recovered to have a reasonable start. Technically it wasn't great, but it was certainly committed. The noise from the crowds was deafening, although I had little chance to notice it. We needed to have a good first two minutes and we pushed hard. Acer (our cox) took the first corner well and we just about managed to get the 1/3 length lead we needed. From then on it was game on. I sensed Cambridge next to me, they seemed to be very big and loud, laying down some big strokes into the head wind. We kept the rate spinning along, determined not to let Cambridge settle into their usual comfortable and long rate 34 race pace. I kept thinking simple technical things. Hold the finish, tap down to clear the waves, rebound fast, and bloody well get on to that next stroke. Cambridge rowed very well past Harrods and took a strong lead. Coming to Hammersmith and they had 3/4 of a length and another hard bend in their favour. It was time to move. We knew that if we didn't do something now we would lose the race. The response from the boat was awesome. Our rate jumped up two to 37 and we were clawing back. In my opinion that move was the pivotal moment of the race, and it was the start of the finish for us. We kept the rate up at 37-36 for the rest of the race and we found a really solid rhythm right on our limit. I was concentrating so hard on beating Cambridge, that the burning pain in my legs and lungs became bearable. Coming under Barnes Bridge Matt Smith (our stroke) was level with his brother in the Cambridge boat, and I thought then that Cambridge might die. Three quarters of a length down on the outside of the bend they had a huge task on their hands. However, we were already going flat out, and I knew if Cambridge were to come it would be tough to respond. Once again it was down to a sprint for the line after 15 minutes of agonising rowing. We moved the rate up, desperately trying to keep our noses in front. Cambridge were pushing and pushing. One minute to go and we were at 40, Cambridge at 44 and I closed my eyes and just counted sets of 10 strokes. My arms were cramping up and I found it hard to keep up with Matt who was driving the rate up and up. Suddenly out of nowhere Cambridge went from 1/3 of a length down to being right on top of us. When we crossed the line I couldn't believe how much they had come back. I felt horrendous, but was pretty confident that we had won. As it turned out we did win, by the closest margin in the history of the race. I collapsed on the side of the bank after the race and just about managed to make it to the podium to receive my medal before being taken to the ambulance to receive some treatment.

The verdict: Oxford by one foot! (Click to enlarge)

I lay there with Ben Smith, the Cambridge bow man, who was also on oxygen, and we clasped hands. I can honestly say that I felt just as much a bond with the nine guys from Cambridge as I did with my own crew mates. The boat race is a mental and physical struggle, and the way races are decided is when someone decides they cannot fight any longer. Well, no one in either boat on Sunday gave up the fight, and I admire the other 17 guys so much for that. Amongst the cauldron of emotions I had at the finish, the over riding one was one of relief. Relief that I had managed to push myself as hard as I ever have, and that I had passed one of life's few great tests. That day was special and I will always remember it.