Dickie blessed by golden touch
A simpler era? Sure. But no simple task.
Simon Dickie drove two New Zealand crews to the peak of world rowing achievements in wooden boats, in rarefied air and in troubled times.
Dickie died suddenly Wednesday in Taupo, aged 66.
He was 17 when as coxswain of the New Zealand men’s coxed four of Dick Joyce, Dudley Storey, Ross Collinge and Warren Cole, he guided the boat to a shock gold at the 1968 Mexico Olympics.
It was New Zealand’s first Olympic rowing medal.
Four years later, Dickie cajoled Trevor Coker, Athol Earl, John Hunter, Tony Hurt, Dick Joyce, Gary Robertson, Wybo Veldman and Lindsay Wilson to defeat the world’s best in the eights final at the Munich Olympics.
The ebullient teenager had just left Wanganui Collegiate when a tragedy propelled him into the national rowing squad, replacing Alan Boykett, who had drowned in a training accident on Wellington Harbour.
Dickie wasn’t entrusted with the job of guiding the eight - considered to be New Zealand’s best medal chance in Mexico - but instead was put with the makeshift four at a camp at Kerrs Reach, Christchurch – ‘‘four metres above sea level’’ national coach Rusty Robertson said as they prepared for the high altitude of Mexico City.
‘‘When they got together, they were they funniest-looking crew you’d ever seen,’’ Robertson said.
Rowing wasn’t a paid full-time job - the rowers worked during the day, trained when they could after biking to the course, and were paid $US3 a day at the Olympics.
The amateur era was still in full effect when New Zealand’s eight took on the might of East Germany at the Feldmoching course four years later in the last Olympic race that was ever won in a wooden boat, Dickie said.
Their rival crew competed in an era when East Germany’s leading sportspeople were part of a staterun doping programme.
‘‘Subsequently of course, we’ve learnt that there was a significant amount of enhancement to their performance by way of what we would now commonly call cheating, ‘‘ Dickie said recently.
That wasn’t enough to beat the Kiwis, who led early and never looked like surrendering their lead.
‘‘You didn’t actually need to be a professional, you didn’t need to be a cheat - you could be just a wholesome bunch of guys,’’ Dickie said.
After their triumph, eight hulking rowers and the diminutive Dickie stood lake-side on the podium in their plain black shorts on and singlets.
After the gold medals were placed around their necks and the New Zealand flag was raised, God Defend New Zealand was played for the first time at an Olympics.
At previous Games, God Save The Queen was played as the national anthem.
So something deeply and uniquely New Zealand resonated about these victors.
Driving them remorselessly was Dickie, who added a third Olympic medal in Montreal in 1976 when the eight won bronze.
For his troubles of helping spur eight hulking on to victory Dickie’s invariably received the time-honoured tradition for a cox of being tossed into the lake. For that muscular Kiwi eight it would have been like swatting a fly as they sent him into the drink.
‘‘No-one ever came near him. He had an outstanding talent for reading crews and reading races and had a knack of changing the race plan just at the right time,’’ crewmate Earl said.
"You didn’t actually need to be a professional, you didn’t need to be a cheat - you could be just a wholesome bunch of guys."
Simon Dickie