Quotes and reactions from screening of Nine
By Ben Ames

Waltham, MA, 2001 – The benefits of team sports reach far beyond the scoreboard, as athletes learn trust and confidence. But until Congress passed Title IX in 1972, this opportunity was closed to women.

Now a new generation of women has jumped at the chance to compete. And they've realized that it's not too late for pre-Title IX women to join them. In 2000, a group of nine rowers–all breast cancer survivors-raced in the prestigious Head of the Charles regatta. "Nine" is a 30-minute documentary that tells their story. It screened Nov. 28 as part of a Women’s Studies event at Brandeis University in Waltham.

In remarks before the film, director Jen Campbell explained the challenges she'd faced--they spent six weeks in pre-production, used 11 cameras while shooting the climactic race scene at the Head of the Charles regatta, and then spent a year editing the results.

But perhaps more difficult than the technical labor was the emotional investment, Campbell told the crowd of 25. As a collegiate rower and coach, she was comfortable with the rigors of the sport, but had not been prepared to become so attached to her subjects.

One of those subjects was Diane Cotting, of Boston, MA, who also spoke before the movie. "I came to rowing in my early 40s to be on a team sport," said Cotting, who rowed seven-seat in the race boat. "As a pre-Title IX woman, I had never been given that opportunity. I finally had the chance to learn, but at five-foot-two, I'm not exactly a coaches' dream," and she was never picked for a race lineup.

So she phoned Row As One to inquire about the group's rowing camp for masters women. She immediately signed up, and was thrilled with the results. In addition to the athletic training, she learned team skills for the first time: "People who've played on teams already know these lessons; like you may not like the pitcher, but he's got a great arm, so you have to learn to work around that."

It all changed one day when she discovered a lump in her breast. Accustomed to her self-reliance, Cotting was shocked when two of her new boat-mates showed up uninvited at the hospital to support her. But minutes later she was profoundly grateful, as the doctor revealed her cancer. Nine surgeries and four rounds of chemotherapy later, her whole body had been rearranged, as surgeons borrowed muscles from her abdomen to replace excised tissue in her chest.

And that's when she discovered the hole in the system. After the doctors' exhaustive efforts, they merely waved goodbye, with no plan for rehabilitation.

So she returned for another Row As one camp. "I had no resource to retrain my body with the new muscles I needed," she said. "Meeting Holly [Metcalf], I learned I had more strength than I ever thought possible-I'd say 'I can't do this!' and she'd convince me I could."

Cotting found additional support in the company of her fellow athletes, as the women would casually mention familiar names of cancer drugs, or explain that their wrapped arm was not tennis elbow, but lymphoma. Eventually, three women in that camp of 30 developed breast cancer, reinforcing the one-in-nine statistic, and their need to share experiences. The group made a habit of dispelling myths about cancer survivors, such as not carrying groceries, or not flying. And for once, they felt free to discuss their cancer without fear or boring or scaring one another.

This degree of intimacy might not have been possible without the athletics: "My physical relationship with the world made everything very clear to me," says Metcalf, of her own athletic experience. "It's a kind of kinesthetic intelligence."

That degree of trust also allowed Cotting's new friends to see through her brave front. "People say 'I'm fine, I'm fine' and I kept saying that too," she said. "But thank God no one listened to me, because I would never have made it through to the other side."

The intense bonding between the women was rooted in a common frustration with their lack of opportunity. One of the rowers in "Nine" said the only letter-sport available to women at her college was riflery, because "after 18, we weren't supposed to sweat."

In was true for Metcalf, too: "I grew up with comments like 'You're an amazing athlete; it's too bad you're a woman'." To tap this frustration, she taught herself to coach, avoiding the negative reinforcement she'd seen so often in Olympic training camps. And in 1994, Matcalf started Row As One.

The athletes responded well to her positive messages, as she sought to supply the mental imagery of athletic grace that so many masters-age women felt they were missing. When one rower was slouching in her seat, Metcalf advised her to stretch upright like a ski jumper. And the rower and boat began to move faster.

"It's about being as invested in the learning process as the student is," she says. "Only together can you do it."

The documentary tells the story of that process, reviewing the athletic awakening of each member of the boat, and then the crushing news of their cancers.

In October, 2000, just four days before the race, the women gathered from all corners-New Jersey, California, Cincinnati, Pittsburgh, Connecticut, and Boston. They quickly found a rhythm in the boat. And on race day, they decided to wear the now-traditional pink sparkle hats; a shocking fashion decision in the conservative sport of rowing. "We didn't want be a parade boat, a joke," Cotting explained. "But we did want to be noticed."

Their story was inspiring for members of the crowd in the Brandeis theater.

Tiferet Haberman-Browns, of Waltham, MA, will be a college freshman next fall, and is thinking of trying out for the crew.

"It was very inspiring," she said of the movie. "I run cross-country, and don't have the typical body type when you think of Olympic rowers, how they start at age nine and practice so much every day. So it's inspiring to see how others can do it, too."

Two other young women found a new appreciation for their experience in sports: "I understand it can be a source of confidence-building to be in a realm that has not always been open to women," said Allison Kelley, a student from Waltham.

"I was very interested to see the patients' perspective, and the power of healing through sports," said her friend Christina Germeles from Jamaica Plain, a Harvard medical school student specializing in women's health. "We usually think of it prosaically as healing from a cold or from minor depression, but it's different to see it work with cancer..."

The success of that quest was realized in the One in Nine boat's 2001 lineup, where four rowers returned from the inaugural team, while five others stepped into different boats so that other cancer survivors could share the experience.

In fact, every rower but Cotting raced in this year's regatta. Nursing a rotator cuff injury, she is eager to return. "I just rowed in the tank again last night," she said. "The sound of the oar in the water is so beautiful... I'm back."

Cotting continues to spread the word about rehabilitating patients' bodies after cancer surgery. She founded a nonprofit organization called The Cotting Connection to share resources and information, and to "bridge the gap" from hospital treatment to living a healthy, active life. More information is online at www.cottingco.com, or phone (617) 795-2214. For more about Row As one and the One In Nine boat, check www.rowasone.org or phone (617) 924-2120.