After the Penn/Navy race, we were down but far from out. Workouts resumed on Monday night, with just five days remaining until the Eastern Sprints. It was late spring and we were now on daylight savings time. Having rowed in pitch black during March and April, it was a great relief—especially for coxswains—to have a clear view of where we were headed. Although Coach frowned on it, we were also able to catch an occasional glimpse of the other crews on the river, as MIT shared the Charles River Basin with Boston University, Northeastern, several rowing clubs and, of course, Harvard.
 
Harvard's rowing form was so perfect that it actually made us want to look in the opposite direction when they rowed past. I'll never forget how Gary handled Harvard that week between Penn/Navy and the Eastern Sprints. The Harvard Lightweight Varsity was just starting a time trial over the Henley course. We waited near the starting line, as our boat was next down the course. Gary brought the coach’s launch along side us, put his stop watch on Harvard, catching their time for a distance of a quarter mile. He then shook his head and said in a barely discernable voice, "If I were the Harvard coach, I'd be plenty worried." That's all he said.  It was enough.
 
I should be more restrained in my criticism of Harvard. They were, in fact, outstanding student-athletes and were excellent, beautifully coached oarsmen. The fact that they were also arrogant, stuck up preppies, full of themselves and condescending toward anything and everything related to MIT shouldn't have biased our attitude toward them at all. Wouldn't you agree?
 
A time honored rowing tradition is that every race is rowed for "shirts."  As an act of sportsmanship at the end of the race, the losers are expected to row over to the dock, congratulate the winners, make small talk, and then strip off their rowing shirts, handing them over to the competitors. In my freshman year, we rowed against Harvard in three of our five races, losing each time. It was said that the Harvard seniors had accumulated so many MIT shirts that they cleaned their oars with them after a workout. What I found particularly galling during those daylight hours the week before the 1962 Sprints was that several of the Harvard Lightweights were wearing MIT shirts in practice.  It was time for a change.

Note:  Unlike our other races, the Sprints were a race of 2000 meters (approximately 1 1/4 miles), a distance just a hundred feet or so shorter than a Henley. I'm not certain, but I think collegiate rowing was in the midst of a transition to the standard metric Olympic racing distance of 2000 meters, as today all major international championship races are rowed at this distance. It will be interesting to find out this July if the Henley Royal Regatta has shortened its course to comply with the Olympic standard. Not likely. Traditions live on for centuries at the HRR.