The Boat Race is one of the last bastions of British tradition in the war against our history - Alex Story

Little can prepare them for what lies ahead.

Each race produces its own story, with its heroes and “villains”, furthering this great British tradition in the process.

In the crucible of this perennial riverine confrontation, legends are made every year.

The battle will take around 17 minutes in good conditions. It can take much longer if the weather gods decide to be playful.

They are seldom benign.

In inclement weather the ordeal can take much longer, testing the resolve of all in the two eight-man shells.

If that breaks, the river swallows the soul of each rower, only to spit the defeated and humiliated remnants out like unwanted mucus on her dirty shores.

Unchanging too is the competitor.

Fresh-faced, fit, learned (most of the time), as well as courageous, he will wager all on the black of victory – the odds never much more than fifty-fifty.

To the victors the spoils: the ephemeral media interest, the eternal title of a “Boat Race winner”, and his name notched in gold-coloured letters on the boat club’s honour wall.

To the defeated, the tears and ceaseless after-the-fact explanations.

Victory, you see, is easy to explain: It was ordained.

Defeat, on the other hand, is the son of a thousand fathers.

In the field of sports, time is not a healer.

It is too public, too open and irrecoverable.

There are no second chances.

Defeat grows on the loser like a cancer.

No matter how successful he might be in his next life, his eyes will drop, and his proud shoulders droop every time the Race is mentioned.

He will make excuses, cough awkwardly and hurriedly change topic, while tears of the deepest shame form in the corner of his eyes.

On the nationalities of the athlete, this year, things are within the mean.

There will be “Yanks”, Australians and Kiwis.

We will also have a German, a Czech, and quite a few Brits.

For balance, both have stacked up on charm: Cambridge has its Frenchman, Oxford its Italian.

We will have a springling of engineers, neuroscientist, computer scientists, physics postgraduate, and Art Historians.

On the weight and size of the athletes, there are, this year, no surprises.

Cambridge, at an average of 14 stone 11 pounds, is three pounds heavier a man then Oxford, as of the weigh in.

An advantage? In certain conditions. (You know where to go to place that bet).

In terms of height, again nothing unusual.

Oxford’s James Doran at 6’7’’ is this year’s tallest, his smile as infectious as the power he is sure to wield.

Standing at 6’3’’, Luke Beever will represent Cambridge’s undergraduates; at 6’6’’, Tom Sharrock Oxford’s.

Both are engineers and share a common interest in history, economics and politics.

Luke’s favourite book, he says, is Natasha Tidd’s “A Short History of the World in 50 Lies”.

Tom, on the other hand, likes Jon Halliday’s “Mao: The Unknown Story”.

Two pertinent books in our current political climate.

The Boat Race then remains what it has always been: a testament to the unchangeable nature of man.

A challenge between the men of two ancient British Universities, who subsequently, put all their energies, pride and spirit to compete on the Thames, for no other purpose than that it was called.

Let us pick a side (for me Cambridge if I may), stick with it and cheer on the boys for their courage, dedication and guts.

Not for riches they broke their back, got their blisters and lost out on nightclubbing.

It is for the unexplained desire for man to test himself against his peer.

And let us enjoy, as well, this long-standing British tradition, knowing how fragile these have shown themselves to be, in particular over the last three decades.

As an aside, the first race took place in 1829, when Europe, not least France, was on the brink of revolution.

Plus ca change…