Newnham head race report

Saturday: Eddie’s Eagles arrived to the meet time fashionably late, having prioritised pistachio croissants and an aggressive pre-race yap over something trivial like punctuality. 
Morale? High. Organisation? Theoretical. 

In a display of tactical innovation (read: numbers), we fielded a beautifully blended W1/2 composite; a boat built on coffee, compromise, and some mild confusion about seats. Leadership was briefly entrusted to a senior (who will remain nameless) who rose to the occasion by forgetting a small administrative detail: collecting the race numbers. Oops. 

On the water, the crew made great strides to further chaos. The only successful stride that day. Our cox, Nadia, who has spent the term being gently encouraged to project beyond a contemplative murmur discovered her inner motivational speaker on the start line and never looked back. The sudden vocal renaissance was so profound that Matt was heard shouting for her to “CALM DOWN”.  Growth is not always linear.

Eddie’s crossed the finish line to a deafening, relentless rally of “LEGS, HIPS” without ever - at least, according to ever-honest stroke Megan - having found a rhythm. Legend says they are still out there, searching. 

Bring on PembRoke!