Doctor Rowing: Naming Rites

Dear Doctor Rowing,

We have a new boat to christen, and there’s a debate about whether to pour champagne over the bow or something else. What do you think? Is there a standard ceremony? I like champagne.

I like champagne, too. But I like to drink it, not pour it on boats or spray it around, as seen in countless professional sports locker rooms when someone clinches a wild-card spot. (Isn’t that like qualifying for the B finals? No one should be ashamed of not winning; after all, only one boat can be the gold medalist. We can’t all be winners, but let’s not dive down to spend time with the bottom feeders.)

As a matter of fact, I do have strong opinions about the whole boat-naming issue. On the Friday of the Head of the Charles, we had a beautiful ceremony to name a new shell for Todd Jesdale, my predecessor and mentor at Groton School. When we announced that the boat would be named for him, 20 years of his oarsmen attended.

We use water from the finish lines of the racecourses that are most significant to us: our own Nashua River home course; the New England Interscholastic Rowing Association finish line at Lake Quinsigamond in Worcester, Mass.; and for an international flair, the Thames at the Henley Royal Regatta. Water from these three sources is mixed into an appropriate and impressive vessel and then, beginning at the bow ball, poured the full length of the deck.

It’s important to collect the water in the correct fashion. It should be scooped in the direction of boat travel and scooped quickly, like the bow ball crossing the finish line speedily as it does on race day. In my many years at Groton, this is how we’ve done it.

The tradition came to me via Jesdale. Todd, a Cornell man, learned this from the legendary Stork Sanford, who won six IRA championships in the 1950s and early ’60s. It’s a fun way of doing it and pays tribute to the gods of the finish line. Sanford was a University of Washington man, so perhaps this sacred-waters ritual may harken back to his coach, Al Ulbrickson, famed for the 1936 Berlin Olympic “Boys in the Boat” triumph.

I should confess that I had not been aware of a further tweak—the water should be poured by a woman. We rectified that failing in October by having Natalie Jesdale, Todd’s wife, do the honors. Often someone will say, “Drink deeply and remember the taste so you can get there quickly again.”

While we’re on the subject, let me ask you a more important question than what liquid should be slopped/spilled over the bow: For whom is your boat being named? I pray that you aren’t going to waste the opportunity to honor someone by giving it a jokey name, like “No Crabs Please” or “6 x 5 Minutes” or “More Beer.”

Having a boat named for you is a great honor. People look upon a boat named for them with pride. Rowing shells are beautiful, and they deserve to carry the name of an important person in your program or institution. It should be someone who sets a standard of behavior and performance that you want your rowers and coxswains to emulate. The traditional way to do this is to name a shell after this exemplar of virtue.

Once you’ve decided whom you wish to honor, you need to plan for the ceremony. When I asked around, what I heard usually was a variation of “We all stand on the dock, someone says a few things, and then we pour something over it.” I guess that captures the gist of it, but I encourage you to elevate your ceremony and your language. What our blending-of-the-waters ceremony offers is a unique and very personal moment.

There are other ways to honor someone, of course. At Cambridge Boat Club when Ken Lynch was in charge of these affairs, he would drape towels over the name on the boat until the dramatic moment of reveal. Things could have gone wrong, perhaps, if the boat hadn’t been named for a praiseworthy subject, but the big reveal was fun.

An internet search shows me that at clubs in Melbourne they lash together a tripod of oars and suspend a bottle of champagne from a rope, dangling it over the bow. It is then smashed with a hammer, and a deluge covers the deck. Quite elaborate and showy.

Why name boats at all? For identification, of course. Imagine “Hands on the eight in the next to highest rack.” Also, we humans like to anthropomorphize inanimate objects; it makes them more emotionally accessible. If you’ve ever watched rowers handle their shell, you can see the care and love that exists. A name creates a bond between a shell and its crew. When we name a boat, we are hoping that the best qualities of the person it is named for will come out in how the crew rows.

So have fun with your ceremony and, for heaven’s sake, don’t waste a chance to honor someone from your club.

Doctor Rowing, a.k.a. Andy Anderson, has been coxing, coaching, and sculling for 55 years. When not writing, coaching, or thinking about rowing, he teaches at Groton School and considers the fact that all three of his children rowed and coxed—and none played lacrosse—his single greatest success.

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