When I arrived at Jesus in the autumn of 1972, I carried no history of sporting involvement. I was very definitely in the “and you lot can go for a run” group when it came to school sport.

After the Freshers’ Fair I did take up a sport – more later – but my real sporting involvement came the following summer.

A fellow first-year, Pete Mead, had started trawling for anyone who would like to give rowing a try, so, knowing little of what was involved, I found myself with three others paddling up the Cherwell. To my surprise, I enjoyed it, and volunteered to be part of an eight. Little did I know what I was letting myself in for.

So nine of us assembled, and were officially the College IVth Eight. I knew two of my fellow ‘oarsmen’, but we gelled quite soon (and this, after all, is one of the reason for college sport, to take you out of your little subject bubble). Did we pick up the rudiments of rowing? I’m not sure. But we tried to look the part.

 

The air of serenity did not last long…

 

In fact, we were bumped (by St Peter’s School’s Eight, if I recall) before Donnington Bridge – yes, the bridge in the background of the first picture). If consistency is the mark of a great sportsman, we were truly great, as we consistently failed to pass the bridge on our remaining three outings.

After such a successful debut, it was something of a surprise next year, when several of our originals suggested repeating the exercise. Pete Mead was eager to make amends. Some of our number had graduated to the second boat, but we press-ganged replacements. The sense of style was maintained – most of the crew were on the Ball Committee…

 

Sadly, the bridge proved to be the limit yet again, on all four days.

The following year (by which time this had become known as the “Beeson Eight”), still no success…

 

This was the year a family of ducklings appeared under our oars just as the minute gun went. To a man, we refused to start if they were there. They fled across the river just in time, though I blame the disruption to our concentration for not making it past that bridge.

Next year, another change of personnel, but no change in fortunes – except…..

 

This time, at the fourth attempt, we passed the bridge! Unfortunately, someone shouted “We’ve done it!”, and we almost stopped dead in the water. Yes, bumped again.

My last year. Sadly no photographs. Same results….until, on the last day, the boat behind us was bumped, and then there was another bump behind that. No one was in sight chasing us. Yes, we managed to row over, on my final race! We only just avoided being caught, but what a triumph. After the most strenuous exercise I have ever endured before or since, I enjoyed being thrown in the river!

Rowing also brought me my first sporting trophy, in the Hardy Fours. In the final we were up against the Captain of Boats, and his “randomly selected” crew, we had just raced our semi-final (they were rested), were knackered – and won clearly.

So what did I take from my rowing career? Memories of the beauty of the river at 6am, enhanced by the scent of breakfast in the houseboats. A lesson never to give up, never surrender, whatever your body and mind are telling you. Most of all the camaraderie of a team of random people, brought together in a single cause, and the lasting friendships that came from it.

My other sport was Archery. This has stayed with me ever after. I was never much good (though I was once national champion in the most obscure Archery discipline imaginable) but I have had a rich and varied life in the sport, running things right up to England and UK level. There were no other archers at Jesus, but I met fellow archers from other colleges – once again, sport takes you out of your bubble, and helps put things in context