The Lure of the Sport

Every once in a while, a sporting event creeps into a corner of your memory, etching itself inconspicuously.

Saturday, the Black and White of Radcliffe pounded its way to a convincing triumph, leaving boats from MIT and Northeastern staring into its wake.

But it was the atmosphere rather than the actual race that lent a special quality to the oarswomen's season opener.

Originally scheduled for 10:40 a.m., the race was postponed till 6:30 p.m. due to capricious winds and the choppy Charles.

By starting time, the sun had set and the sky painted a navy blue backdrop, with traces of pink scraping the horizon.

Across the way, a single orange light cast a stripe of light over the water, rendering the opaque river translucent.

On the shore, a sparse but loyal gathering, some outfitted in sweatsuits, but most in parkas, squinted into the rapidly encroaching darkness, trying to discern the silhouettes.

At the midway mark of the course, a few anxious observers waited impatiently in a beat-up blue Chevy. As the race swept by, they got out of the car, yelled support, and then went back into the vehicle's comforting warmth. Time elapsed: 15 seconds.

And, no matter what the vantage point, coxswains broke the thick silence with frantic exhortations until the boats left earshot, when once again only the wind whistled.

Darkness

Soon the pink glow dissipated and lights dotted the Hancock tower and the Prudential building. The skyline of downtown Boston became inconsequential as the rigs crossed the finish near the B.U. boathouse.

It wasn't spring, it wasn't the Head, and it wasn't Banacek; but crew season was here again. And the ostensible absurdity of compressing five months of training into a five-minute sprint made perfect sense.