01/08/2025
By Steve Griffiths - alumnus 1987-1990
Was I the first UC Davis oarsman to row for the United States national team? Technically the answer is no. In the summer of 1990, I rowed for the USA lightweight team in Europe, but it wasn’t an official national team squad. That honor only went to the squad selected for the World Championships. However, I did wear a USA singlet, row in a red white and blue Vespoli named “Stars and Stripes”, and raced under the banner of the United States. I even have pictures to prove it.
The real question is how a relatively unaccomplished high school athlete – someone who had never rowed before – ended up just a hair away from making a World Championship team four years later. The answer? UC Davis Crew.
I had the fortune of joining a UC Davis team that thrived on pain and hard work. They didn’t just accept tough workouts – they loved them. I rowed in the 1987 freshman boat alongside an incredibly talented novice crew. That first year set a stage for a culture of passion, competition, and a relentless pursuit of excellence that stayed with me throughout my four years on the team. We had a number of standout athletes who wanted to push themselves to the limit and that intensity was contagious. The women had their share of superbly talented athletes as well. Marci Porter made the heavyweight olympic team and then an America’s Cup sailing team, Katie Ring joined her at camps, and the women lightweights won two national championships and a few of them went on to national team camps as well. It was a highly motivated crew.
I first caught the attention of the national team coach with my erg scores. The UCSB lightweight team had earned national recognition, and I’m sure Coach Stewart came out from Boston to check them out before making his way up to Cal and then Davis to see me and Rich Buie, who was also putting up really fast erg scores (8:03 2500m). That summer, both of us were invited to the 1989 pre-elite camp. Eight lightweight men trained in fours and quads on Lake Natoma while another group trained at Lake Placid in New York along with the remainder of the men’s and women’s pre-elites. We came together to compete at the 1989 Olympic Festival in Oklahoma where my “West” four took home a silver medal.
The following summer, we were invited to another camp outside of Cincinnati where 32 men – 16 heavyweights and 16 lightweights – competed in seatracing until we were sorted into our respective A and B boats. Our final test was the US Nationals in Indianapolis where both my A eight and A four earned silver, narrowly losing to a Vesper boat filled with current national team rowers.
The “A” four was Eddie Montalvo from Miami U, Steve Griffiths, the cox Stewart from UMASS, Tom Auth from Columbia and Mark Cullen from Williams College.
Our success in the four at US Nationals led to an incredible opportunity: the four of us young guys from the silver medal boat were combined with the veteran Vesper four in the gold medal boat and sent to represent the USA at the Royal Henley Regatta in England and the Rotsee Regatta in Switzerland.
We trained briefly at England’s national team center in Nottingham where we raced once in a hand-me-down boat in stormy conditions that did not build any confidence for our crew that had not yet gelled together. At Henley we received a first round bye due to our national team status, and our racing began on Day 2. We were still struggling to gel, and in yet another hand-me-down boat. Our first duel was against Amsterdam Nereus, a crew that resembled a Penn AC heavyweight boat – tall, strong, and averaging about 200 lbs. Significantly bigger than us. They jumped us at the start and despite closing the gap at the end of the race, we lost by a narrow margin.
Next we traveled to Lucerne Switzerland for the Rotsee Regatta. I wrote about that racing experience in the 1990 Rower’s Rap, which is reprinted in full after this article.
Upon returning to the states, I wasn’t selected for the 1990 World Championship team that competed in Tasmania, Australia. In the spring of 1991, upon graduation, I moved to Boston and trained out of Riverside Boat Club, followed by time at the Harvard and Northeastern boathouses, all in preparation for the 1991 World Championships in Austria. I spent the summer seat racing and racing speed orders, but ultimately was the final cut for that team.
I returned to California, began my professional career, and to this day remain profoundly grateful for the lessons I learned on the Davis Crew. That experience changed my life and provided an education that I could never have anticipated, shaping me in ways far beyond the sport of rowing.
Originally printed in the Fall 1990 Rower’s Rap
The Race
Davis Oarsman represents the U.S.
This story is based on my experiences this summer while representing the U.S. Lightweight team at the Henley Royal Regatta and the Rotsee Regatta in Europe.
Normally in the seconds before the beginning of a race I focus my attention on the rower sitting in front of me, but in this case I focused on the red flag the starter would drop to signal the beginning of the race. I was used to hearing the familiar French commands “Etes vous pret? Partez!”, but in Lucerne all commands were in French, and I feared I’d be caught off guard when the start commands were issued, causing me to be out of sync as the eight rocketed through its start sequence.
All the crews backed into the stake boats: the Swiss to my right, Spain to my immediate left, and West Germany to the left of them. We came to three-fourths slide in preparation for the start. My legs were shivering as my heart beat furiously with anticipation. In four years of rowing, I had learned to deal with nervous jitters, but my legs still got the shakes just before the big races. I took three deep breaths to calm myself and gather my intensity. All my doubts had been left back at the launching area, and I was ready for this race. The eight oarsmen sat motionless in the start position, some were covered with a light sweat from the warmup and all were ready to go. I saw the Starter lift his flag signaling that the boats were aligned., At this point I focused back on Andrew, the Two seat. I sat there intensely, knowing that “Etes vous pret? Partez!” would be the Starter’s next command.
Before the Starter even finished with the words “pret”, all the racing shells began to shoot out of the stake boats. Jumping the start, I had found, was a refined art at the elite level. The crews looked for that slight edge a quick start might give them.
We took five short strokes and another twenty at 45 strokes per minute, after which we settled into our race cadence of 38 strokes per minute across the glassy green waters of the lake. Dave, our Princeton coxswain, yelled that we were two seats down on West Germany, a seat down on the Swiss and half a seat up on Spain. Our race strategy called for us to hang with the pack for the first 1000 meters at which point we would begin moving for the lead. The strategy would prevent us from going out too hard and burning up all our energy before the end of the race. If we could stay within five seats of the lead we would be in the hunt. Anything more was considered an insurmountable distance to make up at this level.
We settled into our race plan, driving our legs against the floorboards of the Vespoli, oblivious to everything around us except the task at hand. It was good to be racing a Vespoli after rowing a medley of different European boats in England. Our ultra-light Vespoli, called “Stars and Stripes” in reference to the pattern lining the gunwales, had been waiting in Lucerne. It was a familiar and welcome piece of America. Not to mention, it weighed 187 lbs., making it the lightest eight man shell in the world.
We hit the 1300 to go in what felt like a minute. We were really flying. The boat was set like a rock as we clipped along at a 38. The ultra light Dreissigacker oars swung back and disappeared into the water at the catch with lightning speed only to be rapidly whipped through the water again as we drove our shell towards the finish line. Despite our speed it felt like we were holding something back.
At the thousand meter mark the coxswain yelled out our positions. We were five seats down on Germany, two seats down on Switzerland, Spain had dropped back. We still felt in control of the race, but five seats was getting risky. Our crew had to make a strong move or we weren’t going to win.
Our stroke responded to the coxswain’s call for a power 20 by taking the rating to a 39 as we “shifted gears” for even more boat speed. The eight surged forward as we picked up a seat and a half on the leading crews. We were still down, but now we had the momentum and the race for the finish was on.
With only 700 meters to go we had moved on the Swiss, but Germany still had three seats. Another power twenty kept us gaining, but by the 500 meter mark it was apparent the race would go to the last stroke. We raced past the grand stands filled with Germans cheering their national team. The Germans in their brightly colored tanks had us by 10 or 12 feet and we had 60 strokes to catch them.
At 300 to go we began to sprint for the finish amidst a tremendous roar from the crowd. We had been holding a 39 since the 1000 meter mark but here we boosted it to a 42. We were beginning to tire, however the scent of victory propelled us to the line. As we approached the last five strokes we were trading the lead stroke for stroke. We needed the five hardest strokes we could muster to win.
By now my legs were ablaze with pain. I literally willed myself up the slide to recover for the next stroke. Committed to winning; we poured out the last of our energy and crossed the finish line to the blare of only one horn.
I collapsed on my oar gasping for breath. I thought we had won but it was too close to call. We spun the boat around and headed for the dock. As we passed a huge score board the results flashed up:
1.) USA 5:47.99
2.) FDR 5:48.01
3.) SUI 5:53.4
We had won by 2/100 of a second and qualified for the grand finals, but the most unforgettable feeling came when I saw the huge USA on the scoreboard. I was overcome with incredible feelings as I realized for the first time that I was representing America. I rowed in with teary eyes and goose bumps. I was proud of my accomplishments, yet at the same time I was flooded with thoughts of Davis Crew. I felt regret for the end of my four years on Davis Crew and I was sad that my friends couldn’t be with me. I thought of four years of rowing, from the Freshman crew to the Varsity, and was grateful for everything it gave me.
Make your opportunity: RYBO
Below text goes with photo showing UCD alumni at the
U.S. Olympic Festival 1989 Oklahoma City. UC Davis Crew members represented (left to right) Cindy Kneip coach, George Jenkins coach, Marci Porter, Rich Buie, Leanne Pratt, Steve Griffiths, Chieko Kakihana and Katie Ring). Great UCD rowing representation at USA rowing!
See post on alumni website with photos embedded in the story with appropriate photo captions https://davisrowing.org/category/stories/
