A race fit for the Gods and another British oarsman ascending Mount Olympus. No less than Steve Redgrave in Sydney four years ago, this was Matthew Pinsent’s finest hour. On the water and off it. No more can he be termed aloof or arrogant nor accused of being an athlete who kept the best for himself. Every last pound of his considerable frame, every last ounce of his energy, relief and emotion were revealed on Lake Schinias yesterday.
When Pinsent rows, as he did for his life through the last seconds of a gripping duel with the Canadians, an elemental force is unleashed; when he cries, the plains flood. On the rostrum clasping his fourth gold medal against a backdrop of Union Jacks and with the cheers of the British supporters still ringing down the course, Pinsent was inconsolable. Suddenly, the Old Etonian reserve was stripped bare, the aloofness that masks a complex soul was consigned to the gentle cooling breeze. Like the ancient Olympians, Pinsent was left naked, crying like a child at the sheer desperate magnitude of his achievement. He had given everything just as his crew had asked of him, just as Jurgen Grobler, his long-time mentor and head coach of the men’s team, had demanded at the team meeting on the eve of battle.
Pinsent himself tells a good story about his 1992 gold with Redgrave, his first. Through all of the build-up he had waited to hear Grobler’s inspirational team talk. He waited in vain until Grobler pushed the boat out for the last time. “Matthew,” he said in those deep Germanic tones. “I think we win.” This time his message was different, but no less effective. “Matthew, you are the leader, you can win the medal, the others will do everything for you.”
Afterwards, Grobler shed a tear. “That was Matthew’s race,” he said simply. And it was.
Take nothing away from the others — from Ed Coode, who balanced his despair of Sydney with the elation of Athens, the irrepressible James Cracknell, Pinsent’s partner in the double world championship-winning pair, and Steve Williams, the strong, quiet man who has watched the torment of an impossible season with the all-seeing eyes of the sniper — but the true destiny of the gold yesterday lay deep within the heart of the man with the physique and lung-power of Zeus himself.
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Opponents shrank before Redgrave. The gold was spoken for, long before the crews lined up on the startline in Barcelona, Atlanta and Sydney. Here in Athens, a tortuous preparation, which had reached its lowest point with the injury to Alex Partridge seven weeks ago, had left Pinsent and his crew with no room for manoeuvre. The Canadians, the world champions in Milan, were waiting for the ultimate showdown.
Pinsent, for perhaps the first and last time in his life, had no escape route, no option but to return to shore with nothing more left to give.
He did that and more. When the last stroke had been rowed and victory decreed by the fluttering blue and red flags, Pinsent lay slumped in the boat, his head bowed over his oar. A Million Strokes, his book will be called. He looked as though he had rowed every one of them that day. There was none of the elation that followed Redgrave’s fifth gold in Sydney, no climb over bodies to share the moment, no impromptu dip in the water. Pinsent took an age to recover his breath, much longer to summon his traditional poise and elocution.
“In the midst of the race, you’re not thinking ‘this is an Olympic final and it’s going to be very close’,” he said. “You deal with it unemotionally. I wasn’t crying before the line, I was thinking about keeping a good rhythm and trying to row long. That’s why all the emotions came out afterwards.
“It doesn’t get any easier. This is my fourth Olympics. Surely I should know the ingredients. But I told the other guys not to be surprised if I go quiet. I didn’t throw up today as I did in all the other Olympics. I threw up before the semi-final instead. Before the race you could see what it meant to each one of us, that’s when you’ve got to stay solid.”
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Pinsent would not be drawn on his future. Redgrave playfully suggested he could win six golds. “I’ve no idea about the future,” Pinsent said. “I learnt from Steve that it’s a bad idea to open your mouth too soon. The aftermath of the Olympics is not a good moment to consider committing yourself to four years of pain.”
Pinsent reflected, too, on a season that has lurched from one problem to the next. One night, he had caught himself thinking the unthinkable. Silver or bronze? “Then I thought, ‘Why are you thinking so negatively?’ I’ve never gone into a race in my life thinking I can’t win it. But for the first time we’ve been the underdogs here and that’s what has made this so sweet.”
The Canadians were gracious in defeat. They, too, recognised a superhuman force was at work. “Pinsent was the difference,” said Jake Wetzel. “He was the one who lifted their entire boat over the line.”
Not a bad epitaph to a colossal career.