It is a shame that race reports must be reasonably restrained - what I would like to write would probably result in a stern reprimand, at the very least, from someone somewhere.
Two row overs had left the third day of Bumps as "D-Day", "our cup final", "our Istanbul". No footballing metaphor (any metaphor in fact), however, suitably captured the enormity of the day of racing that lay ahead of M3. Sidney II lay in wait and with a fast Caius chasing us there was no chance of a row over. Day 3 was to be all or nothing. Despite the danger of being overawed, of choking when it mattered most, the row up suggested that no one was being fazed by the situation - there would be no getting cold feet like some members of the crew (no names here) in Cindies.
The minutes flew by as we waited on the bank for the chance to write our own piece of history. Four minutes - into the boat. One minute. Go.
Draw 1. Draw 2. Draw 3. Wind. Lengthen. Stride now. The boat glided through the water, Sidney were reeled in stroke-by-stroke. The first whistle came around First Post corner, soon there were two. Caius were being held, but they did not matter. The call came to kill off Sidney. Up went the rate by 2, and we were greeted by three whistles. Roared on by Hannah and Jack, Sidney's resolve was broken just before Grassy. The bump was secured. The carnage that befell the rest of the division did not matter: M3 had beaten the elements (once again), held off a strong Caius crew, and sent Sidney packing.
Very well done to the whole crew, most of whom secured their first ever bump. Having rowed home once now adorned with ivy, the boys are itching to give it another crack on Saturday and get a second bump to round off an excellent week's effort.