By far one of the most misunderstood and tight-woven sports known to man. A high-school crew is usually frowned upon as a "cult", due to the immense amount of commitment and unity found amongst the rowers and Cox'ns. By attending and perticipating in regular practices, a rower will develop a well toned, muscular, "Ripped like Jesus" appearance.
Contrary to popular belief, Rowing is not just for the preppy kids. The majority, sadly enough, of crews is made up of preppy kids because of the immense costs of boats and equipment. a single oar costs approximately $250 USD. Boats range in price from $2,500USD. to $250,000+USD.
In the winter and off season, rowers use an erg (see mideval torture machine)for training. A college rower is known to exert his- or herself so far as to vomit while still erging, or even find him-/herself unable to stand.
Ironically, Crew is the only sport derived from a form of capital punishment. (see vikings)
Football player(stereotypical) : You row a straight line, how hard is that? Rower :Hard. but I'll ignore that comment if you spell Football.
Football player: P-i-g-s-k-i-n
Rower: good boy. *is carried off by a group of ladies.
Student: You're the guy who yells stroke, right? Cox'n : I yell -At- stroke -seat-.. but no. "stroke" is not a normal call
(Slogan of a local crew team that can only safely hold practices in the morning)
Crew (krΓΌ) n. 1. a sport practiced in rowing boats where the participants willfully awake before dawn and run to practice where they spend one to two hours sitting on a hard wood seat and pull on oars to such a level as to cause their bodies to go into oxygen debt, resulting in the formation of lactic acid in their blood, which causes substantial pain and discomfort in all major muscle groups. This activity is usually performed twice a day in the name of fun, and is conducted under the demonic supervision of a person called "Coach" with the help of his trained servant named "Coxswain".
The initiation of a rower's journey begins when they set hands on a boat. You will carry a boat with others like you, and become astounded at how heavy this thing really is.
When all the oars are in, you may row arms only. Seems easy. then the back is added, then the legs. It seems okay. Only as the weeks go by do you realize the enormity of what you have gotten yourself into.
Your hands will bleed and ache and sting; it hurts to pick up a pencil sometimes. You are introduced to the ergometer, erg, or rowing machine- this machine is the finest example of torture in the modern world. Your hands will hurt worse, you will pull harder, you will vomit in trash cans and wobble onjelly legs to your car.
Finally, the hunger. There is no greater hunger than hunger after practice. You will eat anything and everything in sight.
But aside from the general pain, nausea, and discomfort associated with rowing- it will get you fit. You will meet new people that will change your life. You will work harder than you ever have and see results. You will do things that you have never dreamed of. You will fall in love with crew, only it's a weird kind of love. A certain comfort comes from smelling the boathouse on your clothes, stepping off of the erg and into the rainy outdoors, or crossing the finish line with boats behind you.
Rower: I can't, I have crew.
Non-rower: What's crew?
Rower: Rowing
Non-rower: *kayaking motion* I've been kayaking before!
Rower: I don't think you understand.
Cheerleader: I have practice until 5 today! Ugh!
Rower: *low growl*
Coach: Set up the ergs!
Rowers: I can't I broke my body
Mom: I think I made too much pasta
Rower: there is no such thing as too much pasta
A bizarre cult centered around the movement of boats across water in straight lines, propelled by the mental force of anywhere from one to eight human, virgin adherents. During the winter months, its disciples rise well earlier than most sane humans for their bizzare sunrise rituals, including self-injury caused by the use of a holy relic known only as an "erg," which strangely resembles a Medieval torture rack, in honour of their victory-god, "Henley", and 18 mile pilgrimage runs to honour the river-god "Nationals", and his mate "Canadian Nationals". The sacred hymns of the Scottish musical duo "The Proclaimers" are played during these rituals.
Crew is like crack. It interferes with your sleep. It destroys your body. It introduces you to totally weird people. It's expensive. It takes you away from the real world and into a fantasy land. You start doing it way too much, as you build up a tolerance. You can't stop. You love it, but you know that you shouldn't. You stick with it, because you have this bizzare idea that life would just not be the same without it.
Once at the forefront of the railway industry, Crewe is now the chav capital of the world.
The town also has:
One of the worst performing NHS hospitals
A college catering for chavs doing hairdressing and over 1000 students with Downs syndrome
A live music venue hailed as the UK's center for tribute bands
A nationally acclaimed soccer club for producing violent drunken psychopaths
2 Macdonalds, 1 KFC
And the greatest density of polish immigrants in the country (why the fuck they would want to come to Crewe remains a mystery)
"The cinema in Hanley sucks, wanna go the one in crewe?"
"Are you out of your fucking mind?"