Head of the River

by Pip Harry

  We’re driving to an emergency meeting of the Harley Grammar Rowing Committee to discuss the drug bust at the Green Cup. The story moved quickly from the river, to online, talkback radio, even television. As rowing captains, only Sam and I are allowed to go to the meeting. Cris is at home, studying. Or at least that’s what he says he’s doing.

  Sam is the last person I want to spend time with. But this is official duty.

  I’m looking at the latest story on my phone while Mum drives.

  ‘VADA OFFICIALS DEFEND SCHOOLBOY BUST!’ the headline screams. Usually Harley’s rowers would be in the sports section doing a puff piece about our excellent chances at the Head of the River and whether our boys could back up two years in a row. This year it’s a different story.

  ‘Would you be okay being tested for drugs?’ Mum asks me.

  ‘Yeah, of course.’

  ‘Do you know anyone who takes performance-enhancing drugs?’

  ‘No.’

  I can’t imagine a single person on the rowing team using any kind of drug to get an edge.

  ‘We looked for steroids on the internet,’ says Dad. ‘It took us ten seconds to find them for sale. Girls can take too you know.’

  ‘I would never, ever cheat.’

  ‘We know you and Cris wouldn’t do something like this, but school sport can sometimes seem like life and death,’ says Mum. ‘Don’t forget the world will keep turning and we will still love you, even if you come last at the Head of the River. We said the same to Cris earlier.’

  Sam meets me at the lecture theatre, which is packed with parents, teachers and coaches. I’m exhausted and want to be in bed with my laptop, catching up on homework. I didn’t bounce back well after the race on the weekend. After racing in the heat I still feel drained. When the season ends I will slow down and get my system back to normal. Recover.

  ‘Hey,’ says Sam, still looking guilty.

  ‘Hi,’ I say.

  Sam and I have been successfully avoiding each other for weeks. Ducking out of each other’s way during training, not making eye contact. Not speaking unless we absolutely have to. He’d made his position clear. He didn’t want me. Bee was his choice. Now that I’d had a chance to grow some backbone, I didn’t want him either. I was keeping myself busy, focusing on the Head of the River and trying to move on and forget him. That wasn’t possible tonight. We were here to represent the whole squad as captains. To work together.

  ‘Are we okay to do this?’ Sam says as we go in the side door and head for the stage where we will sit with the coaches and our principal, Mr Kentwell. Sam’s gone to an effort to iron his school uniform and brush out his curls. We are both wearing our official captains’ blazers. He looks gorgeous but I have to steel myself against it.

  ‘Let’s get it over and done with,’ I say. ‘What’s the latest?’

  ‘Mitch Langley has hired a fancy lawyer. He wants to block the results on the grounds that kids shouldn’t be forced to provide urine samples without their parents’ permission. Not all the parents were at the regatta. Including mine. Mr Langley reckons it’s violating our rights.’

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘I think cheaters should get caught,’ Sam says.

  ‘Do you?’ I say sarcastically, raising my eyebrow. I can’t help having a dig at his double standards.

  He goes red and stares at his feet. I silently high-five myself.

  Drugs have never been on the agenda at a HGRC meeting. It’s usually fundraising drives, new equipment, coaching appointments and crew disputes. There’s an excited buzz in the air, which dies down as Mr Kentwell approaches the lectern. Everyone sits up tall, ears pricked.

  ‘Judging by attendance tonight, there is justifiably some concern over Saturday’s visit by VADA to the Green Cup regatta at Parkview,’ he says. ‘From my perspective, I was alarmed to hear that the students in our boys’ first eight were required to urinate in front of strangers and that due to the surprise nature of this testing, some students did not have parents present. The question facing us is do we allow this testing to take place at our school regattas? I personally don’t believe there is a performance-enhancing drug problem at school sporting levels, but I’m prepared to be disappointed. Before we decide what action to take, I’ll open up a group discussion. Questions may be directed at any party on the stage, but please raise your hand.’

  Of course, my parents’ hands go up immediately.

  ‘Yes, Mrs Popescu,’ says Mr Kentwell. ‘Your views are very welcome here tonight.’

  ‘We’d all like to see school sport as innocent,’ says Mum. ‘And we should grieve that loss, but as an Olympic-level athlete, how can we refuse to cooperate with an authority which stands to make our sport clean? By refusing random tests, are we not telling our kids they’re exempt from anti-doping rules that all athletes live by? Are we giving them a safe place to cheat?’

  Mitch stands up in the crowd, flanked by a man in a suit I assume is his fancy lawyer.

  ‘A safe place to cheat? How about just giving them a safe place? Shouldn’t our regattas be free from this sort of violation?’

  ‘Drug testing isn’t a violation, it’s a standard process. And it’s highly regulated,’ says Mum.

  ‘I won’t agree to this VADA mob traumatising our kids to tick an official box,’ says Mitch. ‘Call me idealistic, but I believe in the purity of school sport. Doping is for footy players and crooked cyclists, not our kids. I think what we should be discussing here tonight is potential legal action and blocking the results that have already been obtained.’

  Dad stands up to speak. I worry he’ll get nervous and lose his words again. But he doesn’t seem rattled tonight.

  ‘You are competitor in a sport,’ says Dad, choosing his words carefully. ‘And that sport has anti-doping policy then you must abide by rules of competition. One way we tell our kids doping is wrong is to make sure they know consequences. VADA not want catch kids, they want stop them starting in first place.’

  Dad sits down and several parents clap him.

  ‘Why was VADA there in the first place?’ says Nick’s dad.

  Westie takes the microphone on stage.

  ‘A tip-off was made by an anonymous parent, concerned that specific members of the first squad have had a rapid increase in size and performance on the ergometer machine. Doubts were raised.’

  Someone shouts something inaudible from the back row and there’s a rumble of laughter.

  ‘Something you would like to share down the back?’ asks Mr Kentwell.

  Damien Yang’s father stands up to speak. Damien was chucked out of the first boat for Cristian and has been dark ever since.

  ‘If we’re talking about specific cheating in the first eight, then there are some obvious suspects. Look at Cristian Popescu. The kid looks thirty years old, not seventeen. His erg score went through the roof in a matter of months. He’s rapidly changed body shape. We’ve all thought maybe he’s on the gear, don’t tell me you haven’t,’ he says, looking around the room. ‘We should allow the test results to go ahead. I’d like to see if our boys are clean.’

  ‘My son not drug cheat!’ Dad shouts, so loudly that I jump in fright.

  Before Mum can talk him out of it, he runs to the back of the room and throws a punch at Damien’s father. He misses and they tumble out of the room with half the committee trying to pull them apart.

  Mr Kentwell adjourns the meeting until the parents can stop acting like ‘absolute animals’.

  ‘Did that really just happen?’ Sam says to me.

  I’m already running in the direction of the fight to see if I can talk Dad out of punching Damien Yang’s dad into next week.

  Cristian

  With Leni and my parents at the rowing committee meeting I’m left to drift around the house on my own. I take out my drug stash, lay it out on my bed and c
onsider flushing it all down the toilet. I call Adam first.

  ‘Your dad at that meeting?’ I say.

  ‘Yeah. Yours?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘What are we going to do, Ads? I was thinking of getting rid of the evidence.’

  ‘Why would you do that? So you can go through steroid withdrawals right before Head of the River?’

  ‘Withdrawals? You didn’t tell me anything about that.’

  ‘Every high has a comedown, Cris. My advice is do nothing, mate. I’m not changing my plan.’

  ‘What if they catch us? As soon as the school finds out our results, we’re gone.’

  ‘Dad’s spending heaps of cash on a lawyer who’s going to get those test results burned up. We won’t get caught. I promise you.’

  ‘You promised there was no testing at school level, look how that turned out. My parents will disown me if I test positive, won’t your dad flip too?’

  Adam pauses on the line. ‘You don’t know?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Cristian, you are so naive, I love that about you.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ I’m getting frustrated and edgy with this weird conversation.

  ‘My dad already knows because he helped me get the ’roids. He’s got connections at the gym. He didn’t want to see me rowing from the seconds in my final year. He bankrolled the whole thing. He knows about you, too.’

  I feel totally let down.

  ‘What kind of parent buys a kid drugs?’ I ask. This makes no sense.

  ‘Listen, mate, I gotta go. Promise me you won’t do anything stupid. Dad will get us out of this. Money talks. It does, Cris.’

  ‘There are some problems that even money can’t fix,’ I say.

  ‘Wait and see.’

  I hang up, reeling from the phone call and Adam’s deception. I was a fool to follow him blindly into this mess. I spend a few more minutes looking at the drugs I still have left to take. If I can hang on, I might get away with all of this.

  Instead of dropping the pills down the toilet while the house is empty, I pack everything away in its hiding spot, turn off the light and pretend to be asleep when my parents come home.

  I don’t move when Leni knocks on the door wanting to talk. I’ve deceived her, too, and she’s always been the one I tell my truth to. There’s nothing left to do now, but wait it out and hope for a miracle.

  Six agonising days after the rowing club meeting, Westie gathers the entire squad to deliver the verdict on the drug testing. He reads out an email after training to the entire squad. It’s short and to the point.

  Dear coaches, parents and friends of the Harley Grammar Rowing Club,

  The results of the VADA test taken on the 19/2 will be released today the 25/2. You and your children will be notified of any irregularities in individual tests by phone today and you will be asked to come into school to meet with myself and coaching staff.

  Regarding the matter of further drug testing, I have met and had numerous discussions with the heads of APS schools over the past week. Collectively we have signed an agreement stating we will not cooperate with drug testing at APS regattas and informed VADA of our decision.

  VADA has defended its right to test young athletes, but provisionally has agreed not to do any further testing this season or in the future.

  We consider this matter now closed.

  Regards,

  Robert Kentwell

  Principal

  Everyone starts chatting amongst themselves but I’m silent, staring blankly ahead. My entire world imploding.

  The results of the VADA test taken on the 19/2 will be going ahead. Results will be released today.

  We’re caught. It’s over.

  I try to find Adam in the crowd, but he’s already gone. He must have slipped out the back. I bolt down the stairs, pushing past other rowers, out onto Boathouse Drive. I watch, helpless, as his Mini speeds off.

  ‘Adam!’ I shout, knowing he can’t hear me.

  I kick at the ground and run my hands through my hair.

  ‘Fuck!’ I shout.

  I run around trying to find Adam before class, but he’s disappeared in a cloud of magician’s smoke. I’m jittery and my chest feels tight and hot. Any moment I’m going to be collared and hauled off to Mr Kentwell’s office. Turns out, I’m not being paranoid. I go back to my locker to grab my books for English and find a note slipped inside. At the same time I get an SMS telling me to go directly to Kentwell’s office before school starts.

  I try to call Adam, but I go through to his message bank.

  ‘Adam, I’ve just been called to Kentwell’s office. They know, man. It’s over. What should I say?’

  I hang up and wait for him to call back, but the phone stays silent. I’m on my own.

  When I open Mr Kentwell’s door, I’m not surprised to see my parents are there, as well as Westie. There are no words for the shame I feel. It’s so big it fills the room.

  Dad doesn’t look at me, but there’s a seat next to Mum and she pats it solemnly. I want to confess everything, but it’s so quiet and I don’t know where to start.

  ‘Good morning, Cristian,’ says Mr Kentwell.

  ‘Morning, sir.’

  ‘Do you know why you’re here?’

  ‘I think so, sir.’

  ‘Let’s not delay the inevitable. The results from VADA came back positive for you.’

  He holds up a piece of paper and reads from it.

  ‘More specifically it showed a banned steroid. As your parents have confirmed you don’t have any problems with asthma, we can only assume you were taking it to improve your rowing performance, is that correct?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘There was also a positive result for a prescription-only weight-loss drug. You don’t have permission to take this?’

  ‘No, sir. I needed to drop weight fast. I was desperate.’

  Mr Kentwell leans forward on his elbows and frowns.

  ‘This is most disappointing, Cristian.’

  ‘I know, I’m sorry, sir.’

  ‘Don’t apologise to me. Apologise to your parents and your coach. Your crew. Those who trusted you and had faith in you. You’ve let them down, son. But not as much as you’ve let yourself down.’

  I turn to Mum, whose face is stony.

  ‘Sorry Mum.’

  ‘I’m sorry Dad.’

  Dad grunts and looks away, at the wall. My eyes sting with tears.

  Mr West waits for his apology.

  ‘I’m sorry Mr West,’ I mutter.

  ‘Cris, I’m gutted you made this choice,’ says Westie. ‘Is there any way we could keep Cris in the boat? It’s only weeks until Head of the River. Is there any point upsetting the applecart? Potentially this crew could turn around. They could win it again.’

  ‘I think we have every reason to remove a cheat from the crew,’ says Mr Kentwell. ‘If we compete at the Head of the River, we have an obligation to send a clean team.’

  Mr West nods, but looks upset. ‘I’m sorry, mate. Just don’t let this be the end of a promising rowing career. You can come back from this. You’re young, you made a silly mistake.’

  ‘I’d like a full review of Cristian’s coaching and management,’ Mr Kentwell says to Westie. ‘I’ve been talking to VADA’s president about bridging the gap. We desperately need anti-doping education in the curriculum and for our students to be taught the dangers of performance-­enhancing drugs. On a more grassroots level, I’d like to gather our senior coaching staff to workshop ways to provide our senior rowers, and all our young athletes with more emotional support. I understand how caught up we can get in the Head of the River, but it’s just a race. To start, we need to ask you some tough questions, Cristian. Are you ready?’

  I wipe my snotty nose with my hand. ‘Ok
ay.’

  ‘To your knowledge did anyone else in the squad take performance-enhancing drugs?’

  Is this a trick question? Did Adam squirm his way out of getting caught and leave me to hang.

  ‘Not that I know of.’ I’m a cheat and a liar, but I’m no dobber.

  ‘Who supplied these drugs?’

  ‘A guy at a gym. I don’t know his name.’

  ‘What gym?’

  ‘I don’t know. We didn’t meet there.’

  ‘You might have to think harder, if we refer this matter to the police,’ says Mr Kentwell.

  The air con seems like it’s up too high and I’m shivering. The police?

  ‘Why did you do it?’ asks Mum. Her voice cracks and she starts crying. Dad puts an arm around her and glares at me. In my entire life, I’ve never felt worse. My entire body is twisted and wrung out with shame. My head throbs with pain.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I say, tears dripping onto my knees.

  ‘That’s not good enough, Cristian,’ says Westie. ‘These are your actions. Be accountable. It’s the least you can do now.’

  ‘I panicked when I was dropped from the firsts. All anyone cares about at this school is winning. So I had to win, didn’t I? I had to be in the firsts. Keep my scholarship. I couldn’t see any way of doing that without taking these drugs.’

  ‘They were the easy way out?’ asks Mr Kentwell.

  ‘Yes, sir. But there’s nothing easy about today is there?’

  ‘Do you have any idea how dangerous these drugs can be? Especially when you mix them?’ says Mum. ‘You were playing a very foolish game, Cristian. You’re lucky you were caught.’

  ‘You need to see your family GP,’ says Mr Kentwell. ‘I’ll also make you an appointment with the school counsellor. As this is a significant breach of disciplinary expectations, we should also discuss an appropriate punishment.’

  I’m suspended from school until the Monday after the Head of the River. I won’t compete in the race. My teammates will be told I hurt my back lifting weights and I’m out of action due to injury. Even though I’ve dreamed of being free from the numb early mornings, the pain, testing, endless training rows, runs, all of it … I’m sad. Being kicked out of the firsts a few weeks before Head of the River is like being dishonourably discharged from the army. I’ll never row for Harley Grammar again.