“The oars game me power but also taught me humility.”

The Greek in me wanted to know what it felt like to pull an oar. The intellectual wondered about how to get eight individuals to move to the same beat. The athlete wanted to check what has been described as the ultimate workout.

If rowing is a trial then the ergometer is the courtroom, the meter is the jury. And an honest jury at that, because the numbers do not lie.

There’s a word for what that takes and the word is not magic, the word is guts.

In college, I was an editor on the student daily… To the extent that I noticed the existence of crew at all, I saw only what appeared to be big-boned acolytes who rose at dawn.

Here and there the dark brine gushed with foam, Roaring terribly through the strength of the mighty men.

Rowing was not simple for me. I nodded whenever the instructor made a point, as if I understood, but I could as easily have assembled the space shuttle as have repeated the moves she was explaining.

So to the lyre of Orpheus they struck with their oars, The furious water of the sea, and the surge broke into waves.

It’s the quintessential Greek sport: harmonious, competitive, agonizing, nautical, and above all, intelligent. It combines Odysseus’s brains and brawn and love of the sea with the tactical precision of the Spartan pikeman.

Rowing it was pointed out, was a sport that risked few injuries. So it was, I ould discover, but only if you did it right.

When you are rowing well and hard, the rhythm of the stroke takes over. It drives your days and restores your nights. It imparts cadence and direction.

The feel of a good row stays with you hours afterward. Your muscles glow, your mind wanders from the papers on you desk and goes back, again and again, to that terrific power piece at the end of the workout when it felt as if you and the boat were flying.

The rower need to know technique and has to be in shape. He won’t wrong by using strategy.

As if you legs were two cannons and your arms were two oars and the great lateral muscles of your back were pterodactyl wings and the brim of your baseball cap was a harpoon.

Yet what it takes to win races is the ability to reach inside and pull out something to keep you going – no, to go faster – when you have nothing left to give.

Think of aerobics plus weight lifting minus the music or camaraderie. Combine unalloyed endurance with straightforward strength and demand poise, timing, and practiced form as well. Think of pure pain: that’s the ergometer.

A boat is the hardest think I know of to put into perspective. It is so much like a human figure, there is something alive about it.

Tennis is a traditional game. A big sport like tennis does not need too many changes. The game has become too fast, there are hardly any long, interesting rallies these days. So maybe slowing down the courts could help. But you can’t really stop a sport from evolving.

The white people should go back to Europe, and the country should be returned to the American Indians. This is the future I would like to see for the so-called United States.

I don’t like hockey. I’m just good at it.

What cracks me up is people who think I don’t take baseball seriously. It’s the most important thing in my life. They don’t know how hard it is for me to get a bad game out of my mind. I still can’t, but I’m getting better.

I don’t spend a lot of time here in New York. I didn’t realize there were so many Bruins fans in New York.

I don’t recommend trying to cram a lot of long opening-move variations into your head.

What really matters in a workplace, what helps an employer if you’ve got a unionised workforce is if your shop stewards know the rules of the game, if your safety reps are taught to be able to examine situations to make sure the workplace is more safety.

Golf is the one game I know which becomes more and more difficult the longer one plays it.