Teagan
Coxing a crew for a two-thousand-meter sprint required a completely different mindset than a head race. An entirely different set of tactics, start to finish.
Cam would set the rhythm on her call, setting the pace for everyone behind him.
Josh would do the same. A buffer between the stroke and the engine room: Ryder, Baloo, and Quaid.
The bow pair, Noah and Crabby (they really did need to find a new nickname for him), had to streamline all that power, making quick, exacting adjustments with their blades to keep the boat tracking in a perfect straight line.
When it worked?
It was like riding a flying carpet.
There was no point in worrying about what happened when it didn’t.
Steering, keeping an eye on the other boats, calling new stroke rates, hitting each phase of their plan while keeping the rowers’ spirits up was all she needed to think about now.
The two-minute warning sounded.
“Okay, guys, you’ve got this. We’re ready.”
Cam, in front of her, was pure focus and determination, even though he’d had about a minute to wrap his head around taking the lead seat.
“You ready to shine?” she asked him.
They grinned at each other. It was a rhetorical question. Of course he was ready.
She twisted around to watch for the flag drop. The rest of the crew would have their eyes trained on the shoulders in front of them. First sign of twitch? It was time to dig in.
The race official called Attention.
The flag fell.
“ROW!”