Dickie recalls golden days of Munich

Press, 23 September 1988, Page 40

Dickie recalls golden days of Munich

By

CHRIS MIRAMS

of NZPA

Months before the Munich Olympics in 1972, the coxswain of the New Zealand rowing eight, Simon Dickie, felt it could win the Olympic gold medal. As the crew started its five-month preparation for the Games on the Avon River in Christchurch, Dickie said his belief grew stronger as the eight came under the influence of the master coach, Rusty Robertson. “We had been together for four years by that stage,” Dickie said. “We had raced the best in the world with distinction and in preparing for the Games absolutely no stone had been left unturned. Everything that could be done was done. Everything. And during that time there was extensive dialogue between Rusty and myself, not on how we would beat the crews, but on how we would win.” The Olympic rowing regatta was held at Feldmoching where the course was open and unprotected from the wind which at times whipped the water into whitecaps and necessitated delays. New Zealand easily won its heat but was then beaten into second during its semi-final. On that occasion, with New Zealand in lane six, the wind again caused problems, having a particular effect on the outside of the course. By the time of the finals no New Zealanders had yet won a gold medal and with three crews competing the pressure was on. The straight four faded to sixth before the coxless four turned on a magnificent effort but was unable to withstand the final surge of the East Germans and took the silver medal. “I had formulated a picture in my mind that this was when we were going to justify all the training and effort and the expectations everyone had," Dickie said. “I always liked to have the crew row down to the start in midfield. We were never first — never be the star before the start

— and we were never last — that’s just not good. “The practise start is also very important. I always tried to have the crew do its one last and

then put everything into it and wind right out. That, way all the other crews are either in the blocks and watching you or turning and must see you. "It’s a psyche thing, the

sight of an opponent really pouring it on, in rhythm, unnerves the other competitors as well as putting the crew on a

high. It definitely helped us.” In the race proper the Kiwis powered away rating 45 for the first 500 metres and almost immediately had three-quar-ters of a boat length on

the nearest rivals, East and West Germany. Within 700 m New Zealand was a clear length in front and by halfway was five seconds and one-and-three-quarter boat lengths in front of the field. “At that stage I had a lot of trouble reconciling that huge lead,” Dickie said. “There was certainly some self doubt that I had burned out too much horse power. We had done a tremendous amount of work in the first half of the race and never before in Olympic history had a crew been so far in front at that stage and won.” Before the final Dickie had picked the United States and Russia as the crews to watch. By the three-quarter mark it had become a matter of Dickie holding the crew together and almost willing it to the finish as the Americans unleashed a phenomenal burst.

“I could see there were 40 strokes to go. I knew the Americans were coming and as we got closer to the finish all the lines came out,” he said. “ 'Go for gold. I can taste gold and finally I can almost touch gold,’ I yelled at them. Then there was this enormous feeling of elation, emotion and pride as well as a good feeling of self achievement.” The picture painted by the media after the event was one of the boys from the backwoods triumphing over the rest of the world where huge amounts of money and the latest scientific resources were rapidly replacing the concept of amateurism. To a degree, Dickie said, the eight felt the same way and to have Avery Brundage, president of the International Olympic Committee and a staunch supporter of the .amateur concept, present the medals added to the emotion of the moment. "Avery Brundage was a great stalwart who stuck to his ideals through thick and thin. He saw us as the last bastion of amateurism and I suppose we were.”