Ad Astra

by Jaye Renehan

“Ad Astra” is written in the Boat Club and on the college crest. I had studied some Latin in secondary school, and so I knew what this meant, but it was a long way from my mind the first day I went to Islandbridge to join the Boat Club in 1972.

I had completed a year in University at this stage, and all I knew was that I would like to be fit. I had tried a few sports in my school (St. Macartans in Monaghan), the choices were limited. There was Gaelic football, or Gaelic football, and there were also a few handball alleys – I had not excelled in any of these. Of course I had dreamed of many things as I grew up, but for now I just wanted to be a bit fitter, and I had heard the Boat Club was the place. I knew nothing about rowing, although my sister had just married a former renowned UCDBC captain (John Riney 1969), but I was aware that the Boat Club was well disciplined club.

I went along to the old clubhouse (now the Municipal club) and enlisted along with two of my friends. It was a lively place, plenty of activity, with a number of serious looking athletic types. Some of the people around who knew, (and everyone knew more than me) informed us of the achievements of the previous years, and how we were walking with and looking at Irish champions. I felt in awe of everyone – and then I was brought down to the “box”.

The then captain (Pat Brady) made the whole sport sound so easy and demonstrated the perfect stroke to us novices (or “maidens” as we were then known). Pat was a very accomplished oarsman and reigning Irish champion, but still had the time to show us every aspect. Needless to say none of this sank in, and when it was my turn to perform, a lot of constructive criticism was required. Then we were directed to attend the gym (in Earlsfort Terrace) for training on the following Tuesday, where we were subjected to a regime under the guidance of a newly qualified doctor Mick O’ Toole, who I thought sometimes had sadistic tendencies in the training programmes he devised. The early sessions nearly killed me.

And so it began. I survived this new sport as most novices do, and was lucky enough to be selected for the bow seat of the UCD novice 8 in the Wiley cup. It was then a straight race for 8’s in 3 categories, Senior, Junior, (Intermediate), and Maiden (Novice). The races were in Galway on the Corrib on a cold day (in February I think). I clearly remember our captain (Pat Brady) giving us our pre-race pep talk. He warned us about how we would feel during the race. “After about a minute you will think you are going to die” he warned, but I was now fitter than I had ever been, and was happy to go out and do battle. Besides I had just seen my name in a race program – a first time ever for me. Less than 1 minute into the race I knew what Pat Brady had warned us about, except I was then sure I was going to die – in fact there was even a point where I thought this would be a relief. Needless to say, we didn’t win this race, but our Senior 8 did, and UCD won the Wiley Cup.

We went on to race in some heads and regattas, and a spirit was developed in the crew. I was moved out of the bow seat (thankfully) and into the “engine room”, and we had a reasonable year. Our only success, however, was at Trinity Regatta, then probably the major regatta in the country. Championships for Maidens were held in varied locations then, usually on tidal courses, where winning was often more a question of station than ability. I survived my Maiden year, and was fit. The following year was also an enjoyable one, and we had a moderately successful Junior crew, winning a few regattas in 8’s and some 4’s also.

In 1974, the UCD championship crew of the previous 3 years had broken up. They had tried valiantly to win in Henley, and although they had broken records along the way, success had eluded them. A decision was taken to form a 4 from the remainder of the 1973 crew, and make a new 8 from the previous years Junior and maiden crews. This eight trained really hard all winter, in the firm belief that if it hurt it must be doing good – a principle I have since learned may be flawed somewhat. A National squad was formed that year, and although it was my first year in the senior ranks my name went forward and I was included – could this be the stars in “Ad  Astra”? I was after all rowing for UCD, and it was then the most successful club in the country.

Our 8 was successful all year losing out only to a very experienced Garda crew, and there was a second senior 4 from the 8 which was unbeaten all year. This 4 was put together with the remainder of the previous years 8 to form an 8 to race in Nottingham and Henley.

The crew raced a qualifying heat in Nottingham, in the Elite event, lining up against a fancied Harvard crew from the USA. Our instructions were to qualify for the final as easily as possible, and if possible to ease to the finish – saving ourselves for the final. In the race we lead through the 1500m mark, and, with almost mutiny in the crew, allowed Harvard to pass as we eased our way into the final. The final was a fantastic tactical race – we lined up against a Quinten crew (unbeaten in the UK all year) and again the Harvard crew, among other fancied crews. In dramatic fashion the UCD crew powered through Quinten at the 500m mark, and went on to lead the race, eventually winning by clear water from the Harvard crew. We went straight on to Henley, and one week later had also won the Ladies Plate there – The only UCD win in Henley Royal regatta and the first Irish crew win there for some 80 or 90 years. It was also worth noting that in the final of the Ladies Plate the UCD time to the Barrier was identical with that of the Russian eight in winning the final of the Grand Challenge Cup – at that point in the race we were in control of the race – the Russians on the other hand were under serious pressure.

At the end of the domestic season, I was chosen to row in an international coxed four in the World Championships on the Rotsee in Luzern. We trained very hard and were very well prepared, but unfortunately our stroke crashed a motorcycle the day before flying out and ended with his leg in plaster – not ideal for the stroke of an international 4! Although the crew was reorganised with a substitute, and we raced reasonably well – we didn’t have a chance.

The Olympics were 2 years later – there was a reasonable chance of a crew being sent, and I felt I had a chance of making it. It was worth going for, and I decided to commit fully to it. (I was captain of UCD in 1975, which didn’t improve my individual performance as there are many pressures in this role, as every captain knows full well)

In 1976, a squad was chosen which would be kept separate from club rowing – this was a first in Irish rowing. I was selected for the coxless 4, where I rowed in the 2 seat and steered the boat.The coxless four crew selected was:

Stroke	Martin Feeley	UCD Boat Club
3	Iain Kennedy	Lady Victoria
2	Jaye Renehan	UCD Boat Club
Bow	Andy McDonagh	Garda Boat Club
Coach	Tom Sullivan	UCD Boat Club

1976 was a difficult year. The training regime was very tough. We trained twice daily, and were always under pressure. Constant monitoring and testing. The coxless 4 was always a marginal case for selection. (There was a Garda coxed 4, which was performing well and almost automatic for selection) We raced at a number of international regattas during the summer, Mannheim, Ratzeburg, Duisburg, Luzern, and finally on the Bosban in Amsterdam, where we were selected to go to the Olympics in Montreal. This was a really difficult and stressful time, and the crew was under tremendous pressure. It was a relief to qualify, but now we had to prepare, and we only had a few weeks.

We travelled to Montreal almost 2 weeks before the Olympics began. I remember the arrival, the registration and accreditation. There was a high level of security everywhere (people still remembered the tragedy in Munich only 4 years before). On all our travels we were accompanied by armed security. Was this what it was like to be famous? I remember the first evening in Montreal, one of my crewmates, Andy McDonagh of Garda, and myself, took a late stroll from our apartment, past the athletics practice track, to the main stadium. There were some people working there, Beethoven’s 5th symphony was playing at full volume on the sound system, and through the open roof we could see the full moon – it was a magical moment. We had made it, we were there, now it was about to begin…

The following week saw some developments. We struggled to acclimatise to the conditions there. The atmosphere was electric – everywhere I looked were famous faces – all my sports heroes were there. It even seemed we were famous also, as every time we emerged from the village there was a crowd of  “fans” seeking autographs – (I’m sure they had no idea who we were, – but they were still looking for our autographs)

Politics also played a part – I remember sadly looking from the apartment window at a convoy of buses leaving the village. This was the African apartheid boycott – they were protesting at a recent Rugby tour by New Zealand to South Africa (and Rugby is not even an Olympic sport). I felt sad for all the athletes leaving – they had done nothing wrong, and yet their Olympic dream was over before it even began. Perhaps it was made even worse, as they had travelled to Montreal and sampled the atmosphere, only to have their dreams taken away.

We trained hard – perhaps too hard, and prepared as best we could. The tension increased – then it was time for the opening ceremony. We did not take part as we were racing the following day (and a few hours standing in a parade is not good preparation).

Race day: This was what we had prepared for. We went through our normal warm up (What can be normal when preparing for an Olympic race?), and on to the start. “Etez vous prêt?” – We never heard the “partez” (but then we never did!! We always believed that if you heard “Partez” you had waited too long!!) – The race was under way…

We had a good start and were in good position early, only to be called back, as the English crew had broken an oar on the start. We didn’t want to stop, but unfortunately had to (We had reached the 500m mark before they managed to convince us to stop!). When the race re-started, unfortunately it was not so good for us. We were behind early, and although we fought very well and were in contention right to the last 150 metres, ended up finishing 4th with 3 to qualify. It was shattering – we had worked so hard.

I sometimes think that perhaps some of our best performances were in the preparation or that we did too much in the final weeks – but you only get one chance. The Irish rowing team performed well overall. Sean Drea was unfortunate to finish only in 4th position, barely missing out on a Bronze medal, despite having a terrible lane draw in the final. The Irish coxed IV finished in 7th position overall (winning the little final).

In a sense we had gone “Ad Astra”, but unfortunately although we were with stars, we were only looking at the other stars performing. Being competing athletes, we could attend any events in the stadium at any time.
I took advantage of this and watched some interesting athletics events. I watched as Eamonn Coughlan finished 4th in the 1500m – like Sean Drea, he also missed out on a medal in a thrilling race. Although it was devastating to be out of the competition, without anything concrete to show for it, the whole experience was unique and rewarding.

I had joined UCD Boat Club as a student who merely wished to be fit, and over the period of 4 or 5 years, had developed into an International athlete. I had competed successfully for my college nationally and Internationally, and had also represented Ireland at many events, including World Championships and Olympic games. In the process I had also developed many life skills, made some great friends, and have many great memories.

Maybe I was not a star, but at least for a short time I was among stars – perhaps this was what “Ad Astra” really meant? Maybe the Olympic spirit is right, perhaps it is not the winning but the taking part that is important…