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October 10th, 2010 at 2:56 pm
I used to be on a crew team, and it was a co-ed youth team. It was my first summer on the youth team, with zero experience. The seating arrangement depended on one’s skill level. So if I were experienced, I would sit towards the front of the boat, but since I was new, I sat at the end of the boat. The people in the front were called Pacers, people in the middle were called the Engine, and people at the end were called the Rocket.
My team had a tradition of team bonding after every practice. We did things like going to eat brunch, singing at karaoke places, shooting pool, or going to the manager’s house to play games. Everyone seemed really nice and easy to get along with at first. Then as I got to know the people on the team more, I realized that people on this team were extremely arrogant and competitive. I specifically remember this one guy that I met: he would always put down the new youth, saying how we are really bad at this sport. He would belittle us and act a if he was the coach. I disliked this guy so much.
I started to get competitive myself, and I was determined to prove to that guy that the newbies got skills too. I went out to every practice – four times a week, twice in the evening and twice in the early morning. By early I do not mean 10a.m. I meant practice was at 7a.m., and I had to leave my house 5p.m., so that meant I had to wake up at 4 in the morning! I always went to practice early too, so that I can get extra advice on rowing techniques from my coach.
Week by week, I was moved up row by row: from Rocket to Engine to third row Pacer. By the end of the summer, which was two months from when I first started, I was placed as row one Pacer. I felt so empowered at that moment when my coach read off the roaster for the New York race that was scheduled in a week. I was finally able to prove to the guy that I disliked that he was wrong about the new youths.
October 24th, 2010 at 4:19 pm
Aleksey Trofimov
If you saw us at the age of seven, you would think that I and my crew was a bunch of pyromaniac kids from the wild. There were no limits; we lived on the streets more than we did at home. We made fires every night, made secret bases, and had wars with other kids from the neighborhood. Almost every day, our dinner was potatoes baked in a bun fire outside. Sometimes we even had lobsters, and once even a duck!
Every weekend I would go to the small stream about 2 miles away from me house and watch street races near a cargo airport. The road was smooth and perfect for racing, just about a quarter mile strip, wide enough to fit 6 cars. The races went on as usual, starting with bikes, then the local cars, then imports. I saw a police man shoo up and ask for some money, but the organizer of the event refused to give him any. Ten minutes later, the place was swarming with cops, arresting everyone they stumbled upon. My friends and I went down by the stream as if nothing happened, and just skip some rocks. As my friend tossed a rock, a group of ducklings and their mother were swimming by. The unfortunate Madre got hit in the head by the rock and flipped upside down in the water. We felt bad leaving the duck to just float down the stream so we took it with us. When we got back to the neighborhood, we feathered it, gutted it, and then washed it. That day we had a big feast, we baked many potatoes and then had a duck to top it all off. Now I realize that what we did was unsanitary to say the least, but it was the best tasting duck I’ve ever eaten!
yo idk how to make it appear on the second blogg, so i posted in the first and here……