Rowing: Uncharted waters for legend of rowing

By MIKE ROWBOTTOM Herald correspondent

Fear is not something one associates with Steve Redgrave. To have achieved what he has over the past 20 years, in the face of illness that might have persuaded lesser souls to reach for their metaphorical carpet slippers, speaks of rare fortitude.

But when the legendary oarsman talks about the life he has left behind, there it is - fear.

"I'm trying not to do any rowing at all," he said. "It's a very social sport. You tend to get a group of people together on a regular basis. Then someone in the crew will say: 'Why don't we go and do this race as a bit of fun?' I don't want to get drawn in."

And when he looked ahead to this year's Henley Regatta, making the word sound more distasteful than you could ever have imagined, he foresaw that being present "socially" would be "quite difficult." There it was again. Fear.

Hello. My name is Steven Redgrave and I am a rowaholic. I can't say I will never row again. I can only say I will not row ... today.

The worry, if not fear, for Redgrave over the four years leading up to the Olympics was that he might have cast the dice once too often.

At the age of 39, might his desire for a fifth gold medal outstrip his body's ability to deliver it?

As the Sydney Games got under way, the memory remained of Redgrave's bleary appearance at the end of Gold Fever, the BBC documentary on the coxless four's preparations.

Haggard with exhaustion after the quartet's startling defeat in the World Cup, Britain's most famous rower maintained doggedly: "It's not over." But could we believe him?

There is never any shortage of advice for the great athlete approaching the end of his or her career: "Get out while the going's good" ... "Always leave them wanting more" ... "But remember - you're a long time retired."

Making sense of the conundrum can defeat even the most habitual of winners.

Muhammad Ali, who did the rounds again in London this month as one of the judges for the World Sports Awards, stands as a symbol of the athlete damaged by his own incapacity to know when to quit.

Steve Ovett's performance at the 1984 Olympics, where, although ill, he pushed himself to and beyond the point of collapse, provided another traumatic reminder of the pressures the very best operate under. The fear of not being a part of things overcame the fear of physical damage.

Although Ovett's aura of scornful invincibility had effectively been fragmented by the arrival of Steve Cram in 1983, the pieces fell apart only in Los Angeles.

Cram found himself in a curious parallel of Ovett's situation at the 1990 European Championships.

Having returned from the injuries that had compromised his running for the previous three years, Cram made a courageous attempt to retain the title he had won four years earlier, remaining in contention until after the final bell. It was an admirable effort - faintly sad, too.

We were applauding a different athlete from the one who had floated clear of the world's finest in 1985; acknowledging courage, rather than achievement.

Nearly 30 years on, I can still recall the dismal feeling of witnessing Bobby Moore tip from divinity into mortality as an England player as he gifted a crucial goal to Poland in a World Cup qualifying match.

The England captain was undertaking the manoeuvre which had been a trademark of his game, composedly shifting the ball beyond the reach of oncoming forwards before stroking it forward to intelligent effect. This time, however, he needed too long, and Poland's lean and hungry striker Lubanski seized possession like a dog taking a stick.

Within athletics, Herb Elliott, of Australia, was one of those rarities, a man who retired unbeaten with an Olympic title and 1500m world record to his name.

Redgrave, by stepping away from any participation in rowing, appears to have achieved the same rare trick.

All he has to do now is make sure he doesn't get back into a boat. Because by so doing, as he knows all too well, he would simply be giving his beloved sport renewed permission to recruit him.