“Winning a world or Olympic gold in the single sculls is the pinnacle of rowing,” says Greg Searle, one of the few British oarsmen to make an impression in the discipline since the second world war. “It’s like winning the 100m in athletics.”
To bracket Alan Campbell with Linford Christie would be stretching the bounds of credibility at present, but in becoming the world cup champion in single sculls at Lucerne last month, the Northern Irishman pulled off one of the most notable achievements of the sporting summer.
The myth that Britain has neither the right culture nor the right mentality to produce world-class scullers, already challenged by the success of the women’s quad and double at the last Olympics, has been exploded by the extraordinary rise of the former army cadet from Coleraine.
Searle’s bronze in the 1997 world championships was the last significant medal won by a British single sculler; 1924 was the last time we won gold in any major sculling event, Jack Beresford triumphing at the Olympics in Paris. So much will rest on the shoulders of the 23-year-old Campbell when the world championships are staged for the first time in England, at Eton Dorney, starting today. “There is a lot of history to rewrite,” he says.
In several ways, Campbell conforms to stereotype: the lone sculler as eccentric misfit. “Put it this way,” he says. “If there was a competition for who was fashionably cool, I would come last.” To put it another way, fellow members of Campbell’s quad last season refused to row with him unless a particularly battered old hat was burnt. Campbell is an only child, happy in his own company, deliriously so when the pounding of his heart and the rhythmic swish of blade on water are the only sounds breaking the silence of an early morning. “You’re in a world of your own out there,” he says.
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Yet Campbell is also approachable, talkative, ambitious and so passionate about single sculling that, after his season in the quad, he begged to be returned to his favoured discipline. “There are no half-measures,” he says. “You have to be certain whether you want to do it or not. I said I wanted to do it and I hope I’ve shown that if I say something I mean it. The single suits my psyche.”
No coherent explanation has ever been offered for why Britain, so strong in sweep racing, has such a poor tradition in sculling. “I’m not a believer in this idea that it’s some form of dark art,” says Searle. “If you can row with one oar, you should be able to row with two.”
Searle’s inability fully to build on his success in 1997 in part disproved his own theory. On his day, he could match the best in the world, but his temperament was never entirely suited to the solitary nature of his chosen journey. “You’ve got to be on a crusade, on a mission,” he adds. “You can’t just roll along with the rest of the crew. For me, the mental side is bigger than the technical side. What matters is having the ability to challenge yourself every day, to do something harder than the others are taking on.”
A varied education, initially in Australia, then at the Coleraine Academical Institute and the Army’s Welbeck College, has instilled in Campbell not just a rigorous sense of discipline but an absolute relish of the mental and physical demands of rowing 240 punishing strokes in roughly six and three-quarter minutes. “I’m only 23, but I’ve learnt a lot about life already,” he says. “I’ve learnt that rowing is what I want to do and that the pain of losing is much worse than the pain of winning.”
His coach Bill Barry, an Olympic silver medallist who first spotted the gawky young Irishman at the Tideway Scullers, has a favourite mantra: “To be Olympic champion, you need a fast start and a sprint finish.” It is a creed Campbell has followed, marking a stunning senior debut in Munich in May by blasting off from the start and leaving Marcel Hacker, a former world champion, and the Olympic champion Olaf Tufte in his wash. By the finish of the race, the ripples had spread throughout world rowing. “He just used his raw exuberance and went for it,” recalls Tim Foster, an Olympic gold medallist and Campbell’s coach in the men’s quad last season. “That’s been so great to see. He’s not been frightened to take on experienced international scullers and, to be honest, they haven’t quite known what to do with him. He’s got fantastic talent and passion for it.”
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Second place in Poznan and a fourth in Lucerne behind Tufte was sufficient to earn Campbell the yellow jersey of the world cup champion. Winning it was all the more remarkable given that Campbell had to borrow a spare set of blades from his fellow competitor Mahe Drysdale for the Lucerne race. “My blades were broken when they were being transported and I had to scramble around and borrowed two sets before using Mahe’s spare set. Things didn’t go my way but I’ve learnt something from it, gained a lot of experience and it will make me stronger. ‘I’m even more determined now to come out fighting for the world championship,” he said.
“I expected to be behind you,” Tufte told Campbell on the Lucerne podium, which, coming from one of the Irishman’s idols, seemed the ultimate token of respect. The rest will be wary of the new kid by now, none more so than Drysdale, the reigning world champion, who has become a good friend since Campbell invited the New Zealander to train with him in London at a drunken post-Olympic party in Athens. The pair trained and raced together through the winter and keep in regular touch by text message. “I’ve learnt from Mahe to be harder on myself,” says Campbell. “He’s got that farmer’s strength, a sort of raw strength that I’ve got to match.”
With Tufte and Hacker also in a strong field for the world championships and the element of surprise gone, Campbell has to step up a level once again to cap a remarkable season with a medal at Dorney. “Personally I don’t think a gold is out of reach,” he says. “I’ve got my sights on it, for sure, but the real aim is Olympic gold in Beijing. I’m still relatively inexperienced, but I didn’t have any experience before Munich and I won there.”
Winning gold for Britain at these world championships would make Campbell a singular champion indeed.