Marrying into a rowing family requires certain skills

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It's the nation's oldest collegiate sport, yet it's rarely televised, barely sponsored and thoroughly misunderstood. But then, nobody really tailgates at a regatta.For most people, rowing is something that you do in a canoe with one lifejacket for yourself and another for your cooler. Those more in the know are vaguely aware of long boats with several rowers facing a small man with a megaphone. This man invariably shouts "STROKE" at repeated intervals, in case the athletes in front of him forget what they're supposed to be doing.Those even more in the know, with friends or family who actually row, believe that it's more complicated than this, but still somewhat straightforward. You get in a boat, you pull on the oar, the boat moves across the water. It's really just a matter of how hard you pull the oar and, if you're with others, whether you do it at the same time.With this belief in mind, I recently took the unique opportunity to learn this revered and time-honored sport in beautiful, scenic northern Vermont. Some people marry into money; I am marrying into rowing. The least I can do is pull an oar.Vermont in late summer is both breathtaking and inspirational. More precisely, the water in Vermont in late summer is breathtaking and inspirational. As I learned in the prerequisite "flip test," it both shocks the breath from you and inspires you to stay in the boat.Staying in the boat, as I learned next, is about 80 percent of rowing. It is difficult to pull on the oar and move across the water when all of your concentration is focused on staying upright and dry. Boats designed for speed and agility are not designed for ignorant oar flailing and panic. Which is why the novice begins in a starter boat.If the racing boat is designed for speed and agility, the starter boat is designed for sloth and forgiveness. It is basically one Styrofoam cooler shy of a canoe. And even then, at least a canoe goes forward.Rowing happens backward. You carefully slide forward, moving the oars back. If you are still upright, you put the oars in the water and push off with your legs. If you are still upright after that, you pull the oars and glide backward. To put a series of strokes together with perfect balance in both oars will send you in a straight line toward a destination. The novice, therefore, rows erratically from shore to shore, dodging other rowers and waterfowl.No one yells "stroke," though other rowers occasionally yell, depending on your course and speed.Like most other sports, skill comes only with practice. In one weekend I became comfortable in an individual or "single" boat, in which your individual stupidity affects only you. In time I may graduate to a double, with myself and one other unfortunate rower.The double, and any boat larger, offers the added incentive of keeping your fellow rowers afloat. Flailing and panic results in two or more swimmers. The trouble, of course, is finding someone understanding, compassionate and brave enough to endure your mistakes.So it'll be a while yet before I hop into that double. After all, I'm marrying into a rowing family, not a stupid family.(Ben Grabow writes for the young, the urban and the easily amused. Contact him at thinlyread(at)gmail.com.)