The Boat Race

 The Boat Race.

There are few more compelling spectacles in sport than the yearly Boat Race between Oxford and Cambridge university. We know this to be the case because it happens at roughly this time of the year every year. Outside, the cherry blossom is beginning to make its presence felt, spring is officially here and, tomorrow, in the early morning hours, the clocks go forward. Suddenly the world is a much brighter and lighter place than it might have been over a month ago. Winter has now departed our shores, the skiing slopes are not as heavily populated as they used to be and spring is now back and here to stay for at least a while. The sun is out. Life is wonderful and precious. Quite definitely.

Meanwhile down by old Father Thames, or to be more geographically correct Putney, Mortlake and Hammersmith Bridge, fascinated tourists and intrigued passers by along the banks of the River Thames will gather in their droves to witness one of those quintessential British sporting rituals. They will hold up their phones, suddenly producing selfie sticks, still wearing their winter clothes and privately hoping that their choice of university will heave their way to the finishing line, arms akimbo and rowing oars flailing desperately if only because they're just exhausted and it was time to hug each other in unashamed celebration.

Since 1829 two of our most famous and highly distinguished of universities have converged on the Thames rather like old friends who have always kept in touch but only get round to catching up with each other on one Saturday at the end of March. Of course there are the post graduates, dons, undergraduates and potential captains of industry, professionals, scientists, lawyers, solicitors, engineers, accountants and, from time to time, politicians who may not to be our liking. But the Boat Race still panders to the whims of the middle classes, the dinner party set who have lengthy discussions about stocks, shares and the parlous state of the British economy.

The Boat Race will once again provide us with some of those time honoured rituals that England holds so dear. Every year we are subjected to one of those familiar sights by London's loveliest river. In the late 1970s, Cambridge, half the way through this gruelling confrontation between these fiercely competitive Oxford rivals, capsized, their boat slowly sinking but still in high spirits since thankfully nobody was hurt. It is hard to believe that this great and much treasured sporting event is still packing in the crowds almost 160 years later. And yet curiosity beckons them back every year in case the Boat Race finishes in a dead heat and nobody is declared an outright winner.

Comedians and satirists have always wondered why the same two universities are always involved in the Boat Race. Surely there are hundreds of other halls of learning and scholarship who could put forward their candidacy as contenders for this one event. What about Nottingham Trent university, Manchester university, Huddersfield, or the Open university? Surely consideration could be given on behalf of these equally as highly esteemed groves of academia, advanced education and those universities who never seem to get the recognition they deserve.

And so the Light Blues of Cambridge will face the Dark Blues in one of those invigorating displays of  a rowing excellence like none other. You are never quite sure which university will have the upper hand over the other although in certain years, form normally gives us the strongest indication of that year's likeliest winner. Both Oxford and Cambridge seem to go through purple patches where either could win it and then establish themselves as the dominant force. But it remains to see what will happen this year.

So they'll ease their way into the respective boats, slapping each other's hands by way of motivation and then depending heavily on the cox who acts as a kind of megaphone. The cox is the most vocal and vociferous of voices throughout the race. They'll holler and shout, blasting each other's ears with the most rousing of exhortations. The high pitched cries of encouragement seem to get louder as the Boat Race ploughs through the water and under London's most historic bridges. And then either Cambridge or Oxford will make their most emphatic statements of intent that can probably be heard in Kensington or Fiji. 

The truth is that the Boat Race is as synonymous with England as fish and chips, an essential part of its social fabric, etched onto the sporting calendar and always celebrated as one of those enthralling, head to head contests that never disappoint. Oars thrashing wearily into the river's placid waters, both head out confidently and then find that one or the other will inevitably take advantage of their superior strength and  physical resources. Sport loves those with both endless reserves of energy and stamina, those who can make the obvious difference. Firstly it's Oxford to hit the front followed by Cambridge within the length of an oar before Oxford inch their way heroically beside them, just a hairs breadth between the two.

And then distances will increase, either university seizing the initiative by pulling clear. It'll be nip and tuck, oar for oar, straining faces, twisted, contorted faces, grins and grimaces, agonising yelps, cries of anguish, pain written on their foreheads and cheeks. Finally, at Putney and then Hammersmith Bridge they drive their oars deeper into the water for one last push. Oxford and Cambridge are the most familiar sounding of all universities and everybody knows about its proud and gilded history throughout the ages but the Boat Race keeps delivering every single year, its raw excitements almost guaranteed.

Today though either one will emerge as victors if only because there are no replays, no VAR checks that seem to last for ever and no aggressive tackles that lead to the red card. My late and lovely dad always had a passing interest in Cambridge for reasons that never became abundantly clear. Some of us still think of Cambridge as one of the most stunningly beautiful cities in Britain and would like to follow in my dad's footsteps with the same prediction. Still, here's to you Oxford and Cambridge, the River Thames is yours.