Rhythm
by
John Terry Moore
CHAPTER 14
It was a fine, clear autumn morning on Lake Barrington in North West Tasmania. In this place, there was almost no air pollution, and there was a very fair Olympic standard course with no tidal effect, only occasional windy conditions. Around 1500 competitors had gathered for events in the National Regatta and the World Rowing Championships which spanned seven days of racing. Adam and Patrick were super-fit; beginning to look a little gaunt, a sure sign of athletes who have taken their training programme seriously.
They had blitzed the field in the Victorian finals, their second state title, but they knew this race would be highly competitive, with the cream of Australian and international oarsmen vying for Olympic selection. They weren’t even the favourites, which pleased Michael Mitchell, because being an unknown quantity was a great psychological advantage. The New South Wales crew were the favourites; there were a few photographers and journalists hanging around them and Michael prayed their egos would defeat them. There were a few journalists from the gay newspapers who had heard Adam and Patrick were a couple, and they had made the trip down to Tasmania to wish them well, which was nice. There were some campy gestures from the New South Wales crew, which they ignored; Patrick claimed they were repressed queens anyway because they couldn’t wear their high heels in the boat. “Anyway,” he said, “they can’t row and hang on to their handbags at the same time like we can, so they’ve got no chance!”
The final of the Double Sculls was the next race, and they made their way up to the line revelling in the heavy water, and hoping for a head wind; even more important because they were by far the largest crew in the race. They had drawn the lane next to the New South Wales crew and Adam smiled to himself. This could work in their favour; a good crew in the next lane always helped them and paced them. And their own steering was impeccable, mainly due to Patrick’s sense of direction, so if they tried to crowd them out in the final stages of the race, the trap was nicely set. Adam watched for the smoke on the starter’s pistol and they had the best start of their career. Amazingly, their start developed into an early lead at the 500 metre mark as a head wind began to blow. By 1000 metres it was all over. They sat up, reached out for length into the breeze and the little craft sang along. Never seriously challenged, they charged over the line to win by an outstanding three–and-a-half lengths, in a new Australian time. They coasted into the ways, and slid alongside.
Michael Mitchell was there and held the riggers as they stepped out of the boat. Adam leaned over, his hand pulling Patrick’s face towards him and gave him the most passionate kiss of their career, both sporting and personal. “Congratulations, champ,” he beamed, his smile nearly breaking his face in half. “Yeah, I’m really turned on by champions,” said Patrick. “You fancy a bit of foolin’ around tonight?” Immediately, the press were there; like crows they usually looked for dead carcasses before they pounced, but these two were very much alive! Adam and Patrick were too smart to talk to anyone and Michael had his ‘shoosh’ finger to his lips so they were nice to the journos but refused to answer any direct questions. They just allowed their actions to speak for them. There was jubilation from family and friends, the university supporters went ballistic and the Dean was feeling no pain; she had a hip flask of Scotch handy ‘just to settle her nerves’.
*****
The next day, the finals of the World Championships were held. The race started at a cracking pace; so much so Adam and Patrick felt intimidated. They suddenly realised after rowing their way through heats and repechages, that this was the real competition; at an international level. They had to sprint at the 500 metre mark just to catch up and at the 1500 metre mark they were level pegging with the leaders, Great Britain and France. Adam realised they were tiring badly as the leaders began to draw away again. Determined to qualify, they lifted their rating and began to seriously row them down. Great Britain got the result by half a length from France with Australia a quarter of a length away in third place. It was a fantastic result but Michael Mitchell, however, looked a little concerned. He took the boys away to a quiet corner to brief them on what lay ahead. “Boys, this is the way that I see it. You will be offered a place in the Olympic squad. That will require travelling to Sydney and you will spend most of your time in a training camp for the next few months, right up to until you leave for the Games; probably one month prior to the event. You will have a coach assigned to you and a brand new boat. What do you think about that?”
“We don’t think at all,” said Adam. He looked at Patrick who nodded his agreement. “We can’t afford to leave the university grounds for that length of time,” he said. “As you know, Michael, we’ve both changed disciplines and we have teaching coaches assigned to us to help catch up with our studies so we don‘t have to repeat a year. If we have four months or so out of the university system, we’ll never catch up and that’s not on. We’re getting married in September and after we finish our studies we need to get back to the farm as soon as possible, because we have a commitment to our family as well as to ourselves. So our priorities are not negotiable.”
Patrick interjected gently, “And so far as coaching is concerned, Michael, we have full confidence in yourself and to change course at this stage would be madness.”
“I do think you should try the boat they have on offer, however,” smiled Michael. “You can always say no if it doesn’t suit you. Michael looked at them earnestly. “Chaps, I thank you for your confidence, because if nothing else, I understand your motivation, don’t I?” The boys nodded, smiling at their friend. Trust was written all over their faces and Michael knew how determined they could be. The fight ahead would be difficult because sports politics were involved. ‘Egos were being exercised right now,’ he thought. “Boys, you are now facing the biggest challenge of your sporting career, because of sports’ politics. As if the training isn’t difficult enough, you now have to put up with ex-oarsmen who usually never got past local regattas, and who want to exercise their egos. The Olympic selection process simply makes them worse. What I plan to do is present your case to them and hope they see it our way. If they don’t, and you guys don’t want to proceed with the training camp, then I’m afraid your Olympic chances are all over. The National Rowing Secretariat has representation on the Olympic Committee, and they are also a very conservative body. My strategy is simple; I will talk immediately to Peter Hinchcliffe, who is just over there,” Michael pointed to a group of grey headed men in blazers; “who of course is the administrator and executor of the Hinchcliffe Bequest. Not only has the university benefited from the Bequest, but so have numerous other rowing clubs and the National Secretariat itself. Peter is also one of the two representatives on the Olympic Committee, so that is very much in our favour. I want you both to keep positive about this and don’t breathe a word to anyone, particularly the media. I think we will win, but there will be some nastiness on the way through which you will be amazed at. Now get yourselves something to drink and eat and I’ll be back shortly.”
*****
Two days after the national titles and the world championships, there was a banging on their door, sending Jack into a frenzy of barking. It was Gerry Hansen, the original early riser on campus, brandishing several newspapers. Patrick logged on, and sure enough the Internet carried the same story with various headlines: “Same-sex Couple to Represent Australia”, “Gay Couple Win National Title”, “Olympic Hopefuls A Gay Couple,” etc, etc. And just the one photograph which said it all; of them having a delightful snog to celebrate! Just then, Michael burst through the door with a look of urgency. “Guys,” he said. “I’m so sorry, you’re news all over Australia!”
“All over the world, Michael,” said Gerry, “but really none of it is negative, except this one.” He pointed to a second page article from a Sydney tabloid where none other than Ted Macfarlane had been interviewed, a member of the National Rowing Secretariat and one of the two representatives on the Olympic Committee. Ted was known to be a pillar of the Anglican Church, and an embarrassing member of the Liberal Party, trying to drag his local branch into hate campaigns against all manner of things that didn’t align with his far right fanaticism. Michael Mitchell cursed his own memory. He had completely forgotten how Ted had voted on similar issues in the past; there was no doubt he was the enemy. Two hours later, the Dean called Patrick’s mobile phone and directed them to run to the nearest television for the morning show on Channel 12. The host was Jenny Gregson, a blond, blousy, hard-headed and articulate presenter who, (as Maurie said), ‘kept the entire Malaysian cosmetic surgery industry alive and well!’ Jenny was smart, but some of her guests were less so. Jenny had long been an advocate of same-sex politics, a fact which had obviously escaped her guest this morning. Ted Macfarlane sat there on the settee; quite a nice piece of furniture, finished in a silver damask. Jenny’s staff called it the ‘silver grill’, and they watched with amusement as Ted sat there with a look of righteous indignation written all over his face. Jenny looked demure even; there was no hint of the maelstrom about to erupt around her guest.
“Mr Macfarlane,” she purred. “Thank you for spending your valuable time with us.”
“No problem,” Ted almost shouted. “This country is going down the gurgler with all this disgusting filth happening.” Jenny studiously ignored him and went on. “Now you are a director of the National Rowing Secretariat, and one of two representatives on the Olympic Committee?”
“Yep, that’s me,” replied Ted with a satisfied smirk.
“And just so we bring our listeners up to date with the article in The Sydney Chronicle this morning, let me read some excerpts from your remarks. It says that you feel that, and I quote, “Our nation is being dragged to the gutter by poofters and lesbians, and they have now infiltrated sport.” You go on to say that “Adam Church and Patrick Benson are the most vile example of piss poor sportsmen and that Australia could do much better by sending the New South Wales State Double Sculls champions to the Games.”
“Yup, that’s about what I said,” leered Ted.
“But as I understand it, Mr Macfarlane, the Victorian crew decisively defeated New South Wales by three-and-a-half lengths, then the next day ran third after Great Britain and France in the World Championships, which in theory makes them number three globally! So why then send a crew that are clearly not Australia’s best?”
“Because Australia is being made to look like fools overseas, that’s why! Our politicians are openly gay, and our sportsmen are bein’ turned gay by their example. In rowing,” Ted said, “the women are getting more like the men, and the men are more like the women! No wonder we rate so poorly around the world in everything! Mark my words,” he thundered. “God is in the process of seeking retribution for all these unnatural carnal acts!! It’s Sodom and Gomorrah all over again!”
The station’s telephone network was swamped with calls, threatening to implode, and the number of emails caused chaos with the network’s server, rendering it useless. Ted evidently decided that if he was going to bury himself, he might as well make it a deep hole, so he continued, “And to add insult to injury, these nancy boys refuse to join the official training squad at Penrith, because they say it will interfere with their studies! What rubbish!! And they have refused to have a coach allocated to them because they want to keep old Michael Mitchell, their current coach, who is a real has-been. And the straw that broke the camel’s back is they have indicated they may use their own boat instead of the official boat signed off by the Secretariat.”
“Is that all, Mr Macfarlane?” murmured Jenny.
“Well yeah, I suppose it is,” said Ted.
“I‘m glad” responded Jenny. “We’ll go to a commercial break and when we come back, do you think you could help me by just giving a yes or no answer to my questions?”
“Sounds simple enough to me,” said Ted, “be glad to help.”
Her staff had never seen her so determined; she called for a makeup touch-up and as the margarine commercial ended, she turned and faced Ted Macfarlane. “Mr Macfarlane,” she said. “I think you’ve had ample time to put your case, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Oh yes,” agreed Ted. “You’ve been very kind, and God bless you.”
“I don’t think I’m going to need God’s help, Mr Macfarlane, but I think you certainly do. Now I require you to give me a yes or no answer to the following questions, OK?” Ted nodded like a store dummy.
“Mr Macfarlane, are you acting for the Australian Rowing Secretariat?”
“Umm, no.”
“Are you acting for the Australian Olympic Committee?”
“No.”
“So are you speaking and acting on behalf of yourself?”
“Now listen here ----- ”
“What’s wrong Mr Macfarlane? Why not tell everyone that you thought up this scheme to advance your own views on social issues and that this is really nothing to do with sport?”
“W-well yes,” stumbled Ted.
“And isn’t it true that most of your colleagues on the Secretariat and on the Olympic Committee are utterly opposed to your views; that they understand Adam Church and Patrick Benson’s special needs, and are pleased to accommodate them?”
“Yes,” mumbled Ted, the first inkling of an ambush beginning to dawn on him. “And isn’t it the case that having no support for your views in either the Secretariat or the Olympic Committee, you decided to promote your views directly to the media?”
“Yes,” whispered Ted.
“Speak up Mr Macfarlane,” roared Jenny in full flight, like a barrister going after a witness in a murder trial. “You decided to discredit the legitimate titleholders of the National Double Sculls, now number three in world contention because of their lifestyle?”
“Yes,” smirked Ted, some confidence creeping back.
“And in the same breath you try to discredit other same-sex couples in politics in Australia, obviously including the Prime Minister, his partner Praveen Nayar, and their children.”
“Yes,” said Ted limply. “I still don’t believe in those terrible unnatural acts.”
“So you don’t believe in those unnatural acts, Mr Macfarlane! Those acts which you describe as unnatural are between adult people and have been enshrined in Australian law and are now part of Australian society! So what would you describe as being unnatural, Mr Macfarlane? What about your own behaviour as a scout master with the Anglican Rover Group? Wasn’t that unnatural?? Ten, eleven and twelve-year-old boys, all pubescent, all in your trust, all wondering about their emotional state and their sexuality and relying on their Arkala?”
Ted turned an ashen colour but didn’t deny anything.
“Their Arkala was you, wasn’t it Mr Macfarlane? What about your unnatural acts, now Mr. Macfarlane? The church elders tried to keep it quiet, but in the end they had to settle out of court for your indiscretions. Personally, I think you are the most perverted, unnatural and unlawful person I have ever interviewed on this program Mr Macfarlane, and I hope you are prosecuted for the young lives you may have ruined by forcing yourself on children who weren’t old enough to make up their own minds about who they had sex with, or if they wanted to have sex at all.
You see, Mr Macfarlane, Australia has become a place where people are free to choose their own life partners, whoever they might be. People like you don’t understand that this discussion is not about sex, for goodness sake but about people. You just don’t get it, do you? It seems that people like yourself want to vilify good, decent young men and women, couples like Adam and Patrick who are driving this country forward through a most excellent example, and who deserve our heartfelt support. You do these terrible things because you want to draw attention away from yourself! But you haven’t succeeded, Mr Macfarlane because I suspect you have now galvanised support behind Adam and Patrick by more than any other means, and Australia now knows what sort of a person you are, Mr Macfarlane. And now, after a commercial break we move to our regular cooking segment with Antoine St.Laurent.”