A miracle on the water

February 29th is a special day - not
just because it’s that extra day in February of the ‘leap’ year, but it’s also my former rowing coach’s birthday.

I remember with fondness the days when
Ken Sabbag was our Novice Men’s rowing coach at Wesleyan. I had signed up for ‘crew’ as a college freshman because anyone who was interested could join. At the time, I had little insight into what rowing was all about. Through Ken’s leadership and my experiences, I came to appreciate probably ‘the ultimate’ in team sports. Crew meant dedication and commitment, hard work and endurance, sacrifice and pain. Yet a special camaraderie was formed during those times. Friendships were forged that I still treasure almost 2 decades later. Giving your all for the team, the ‘crew’, meant something. Testing ourselves beyond anything we could have imagined or expected brought out the best in us.

Ken was there to guide us. He was our mentor, our guru, our coach. His rallies and guiding speeches after a long arduous practice were an encouragement to do more and to ‘be’ more. I felt that I learned not just to ‘row well’ but to ‘live well’ under his guidance.

Our novice team improved throughout the Fall. We practiced on the Connecticut River during the early dawn, when boat traffic and winds lolled. Eight oars moved effortlessly above the water, extending back as far as possible, before all at once turning suddenly downwards to splash into the water and pull. Fire and rage pulsed through us: The quadriceps hammered down, the back unleashed a Fury, the lats and arms crushed the Life Force from the stroke. Then, again, Tranquility. Peace. The boat glided effortlessly under us, as we strove for poise. Stroke! Again, the power surged, steam rose up in a cloud from the oarsmen intent on a punishing unity. Water could be seen boiling at the blades. Then, Serenity. Birds floated high above on cushions of air. “Kill that bird”! Electricity sparked through the Shell, Power surged forth from a collective rage. This was Beauty, this was Rowing, this was Life to us.

One early morning, our eight swept along a mirror still section of water. Ken was far off in the skiff, watching our motions from a distance - to observe the synchrony so important to the sport. Suddenly one of us cried out. The coxswain ordered us to ‘weigh enough’ and the boat cruised before slowing to a stand-still. We looked out in amazement to where Ken was. What we saw seemed like a miracle! Ken appeared to be walking on water - he was out of his boat, moving, far from shore. ‘What on Earth’? Before we knew it, he was back in the skiff, humming along. The coxswain ordered us to resume. “Eyes in the boat” was our command; the power and pulse of the Shell returned.

That day has remained a strong memory for me. Exactly what happened isn’t quite clear - was it a shoal, an underwater branch, some illusion? It didn’t matter so much for me or the crew, we knew Ken was capable of walking on water. We loved him.

Ken had to move on from coaching us. He went to medical school at one of the most prestigious schools in the U.S., then orthopaedic residency at Harvard with a specialty in Hand surgery. He practices now in Pasadena California. I’m sure his patients must experience many miracles through his caring hands.

Happy Birthday to you Ken, our coach.

RW