It’s 6:30 a.m. on a Saturday morning. For a small group of students, the day has already begun.
I’d seen them around campus frequently, and their behavior piqued my interest. Who were these people, donning sweatpants and purple windbreakers, clustered around a single table for breakfast at Sargent? Why, at 9 a.m., did they already appear to have exercised vigorously and, after all that, still appear so lively?
As a member of Northwestern’s varsity cross country team, I admit I’m no stranger to the early mornings and physical rigors of college athletics. But there was something different here — something that came from within, neither validated by an athletic department nor stamped with the Big Ten’s seal of approval.
Saturday, as the group assembled some three miles from campus, it was not the crisp, cool fall air that rid them of the early-morning impulse to go back to sleep. Rather it was the demands — and rewards — of a sport that, for them, is a lifestyle.
Earlier that week, Weinberg sophomore Kunal Joshi, the alumni/public relations chair for the team, described to me what it meant to row for Northwestern. He talked about the morning practices, the transition from novice year to the varsity team when a rower receives a famed purple windbreaker and the chemistry needed between each “seat”, or member, of the four or eight-person boats.
He also mentioned despite all the teamwork, the club sport often lacks recognition from their fellow students.
“We train as hard as [varsity teams] do, if not harder,” he says. “It’s kind of frustrating.”
To compensate for this imbalance, he says the team places a big emphasis on internal support.
“Within the team it’s really just respect for each other that keeps us going — the pride of being able to say that you are on the Northwestern crew team,” he says.
On the morning of the regatta (crew-speak for a race), rowers eat a breakfast of fruit and bagels brought by a parent. Others assemble a tent and prepare the boats for the series of races to begin. I spoke with the team’s president, Weinberg senior Kristin Behrmann. it was clear that even if the majority of Northwestern fails to recognize the team’s effort, the team itself does.
“We are Northwestern’s rowing team,” she says. “We are the representation of Northwestern at all the regattas.”
Joshi and Behrmann emphasized “dedication.” With their morning practices, the occasional evening practice with their “novice” teammates, and race distances between four and six kilometers, this was somewhat obvious. But there are no Chipotle “Big Games” here, no coverage on the Big Ten network, no “Purple Fridays” to mark their season. Northwestern University may acknowledge that they have a crew team, but few venture to watch them compete.
And despite the minimal fanfare, they are okay with it. What’s important to them is what’s within.
Jessica Young, the captain of the women’s varsity team, told me that despite all the forces working against them, the sport itself gives her teammates the opportunity to prove their abilities. They can show Northwestern — and the collegiate rowing culture — that their effort isn’t for nothing.
“It’s one of the few things that completely rewards you for hard work,” she says.
And with that she is off, helping her team prepare for the day’s races. With little to do but stand and watch, I venture to the spectating area Young and Behrman recommend. There I meet up with Weinberg senior Alex Payvandi, a member of the men’s varsity team, waiting to cheer on his female teammates.
About an hour later the women’s race is underway. As we stand on a bridge overlooking the Chicago River, the Northwestern women’s boat speeds toward us with its oars moving in unison and its coxswain shouting commands.
Payvandi recommends we cheer. “Go U!” he yells.
“NU!” I yell back.
We do this over and over until they pass beneath the bridge. It’s something that, as an athlete, I have seen countless times before. The fate of an entire day is wrapped up in a single moment. Standing there as a spectator, the feeling resonates and school spirit abounds. It gave the same feeling as doing the “Claw” or jingling my keys at a football game.
Granted, there were only a few of us on that bridge cheering for Northwestern. And our presence may made little difference to the rowers; they would have competed regardless. Forget attendance numbers, marketing schemes or incentives given to “friend” their coach on Facebook. Their motivation comes from each other.