Steve Redgrave, a 38-year-old diabetic, now holds five Olympic gold medals for rowing, won in Los Angeles, Seoul, Barcelona, Atlanta and Sydney. You might imagine that he can now sit back and reflect on a sporting career in which everything imaginable was achieved. Not many people know that in December 1987, in Luxor on the banks of the Nile, he was denied one fulfilment: he couldn't find a Trinity oarsman to row with him.
It's a short story that is made a little longer because it starts in a bar - a cool, shaded bar overlooking the Nile, the long north-flowing ruler of Egypt. It was a good bar, as I remember. They served beer - good beer, yet perhaps beer not as good as the darker stuff drunk at home.
Nile Regatta
But we weren't there for the beer. Four oarsmen from Trinity College were discussing their strategy for the next day's race at the Nile Regatta. There were clubs from Germany, Bulgaria and Belgium to worry about, and the Egyptian hosts. There was also a pair from England, Andy Holmes and Steve Redgrave, who had only one Olympic gold medal back then. We weren't intending to race the pair, so we didn't worry about them.
With the cooling of dusk, the river's ruffled surface slacked down to a relaxing glide and the town dropped its pace in tandem. The bar's veranda filled with the same ease and attitude with which the river approached the dark of evening.
The British Olympians walked in with their fellow gold-medal- holding coxswain, Pat Sweeney, he their guide as always. The sight of familiar faces and greeting eyes brought them to our table. "Guts, how's your guts?" Steve Redgrave asked the table. Four faces looked at each other and then to the English. "No problems, why?" came our reply. "The Germans say they feel a bit ropy, and the Belgians have men in bed. And you lot are fine?" He looked at us with his lips drawn flat, holding back his now internationally recognised teasing grin.
"Three double gins and tonics, please," Sweeney asked the slender waiter in starched white. Redgrave then spoke for his team: "We've watched you lot. You buy food from the vendors on the street. You eat fruit washed in the tap water. You do everything we were told not to do because it would upset our stomachs. Every other crew is feeling a little queasy and you lot are fine." We looked at each other and then back to our investigator. We knew we had not been subtle in our use of performance-enhancing substances sourced from counties Cork and Antrim. In our naivety we had flaunted the stuff, even offering it to others when the night closed in and stars became old friends. In doing so, we lost our competitive advantage.
Pat Sweeney's drinks order showed they were close on our heels, and already trying to improve on our strategy by using a London-made potion: "You lot are out here every evening drinking whiskey, and not one of you has come down with a case of the Pharaoh's Revenge. From now on we will be joining you, but with gin." Pat raised his glass to toast: "I don't think the British Olympic Council will accept us recommending this addition to the training diet, but if it works we'll keep it"
Strange question
Next morning on the riverbank, with heads as clear and broad as the desert sky, we prepared our boat for the day's racing. Suddenly Steve Redgrave greeted us: "Anyone want a row today?" There was no response to the strange question. "Any of you want to row with me? Andy is sick in bed. The gin didn't work."
Redgrave is a strokeside - simply put, a left-handed oarsman, and therefore complemented by the righthandedness of his bowside partner, Andy Holmes. Two of our four were also strokeside. The two bowsiders looked at him - 6ft 4ins and 15 stone, with only one gold medal then, but already a rattle-bag of World Championship wins. We both said "No" with sharp and determined voices.
He was shocked that we didn't want to come out and play. If we didn't row with him, what was he going to do for the day? He had just become a member of the unemployed.
But why say no to rowing with such an athlete? Why spurn the chance to say one day: "I rowed with that Redgrave fella who got all them gold medals in the Olympics", with a picture to prove it? Because everyone in the sport knew even then that he would win a batch of Olympic gold medals. Nothing gives a great athlete more joy than to compete at his best - and who wants to say they brought one down to his own level? Athletes of such calibre need the catalyst of the Olympics so they can pit their talents against other maestri. Who wants to say: "I was the one who put Polyfilla on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel after the roof leaked"? After our refusal, the word went around and a member of the Egyptian national squad was found to partner Redgrave for the day.
German coxswain
We may have not been able to give him a partner in Luxor, but a week later we borrowed a pair - a two-man boat - and raced against the British pair some other crews in Cairo. We had to borrow a German coxswain for the race who didn't speak English. It was a start full of shouting, splashing and grimacing, our cox holding forth with the sort of encouragement and vigour that Admiral Hood would have quaked to hear from the enemy at the Battle of Jutland.
A good many minutes later we reached the finish to see the Olympians had waited patiently for us to arrive. We rowed up and thanked each other for the race. That's the picture I have of me with the fella who won all them gold medals at the Olympics.