#bobby moch is a genius

[savvylittlecoxswain]

Bobby’s father, Gaston Moch, immigrated from the Canton of Bern, Switzerland at the age of 15 to live with his uncle and work at his jewelry store.

From what admittedly little research I’ve done, it seems that people from the Canton of Bern spoke primarily Swiss German circa the 1890s.

So what if Bobby was taught some of the language growing up, but never formally as it was mostly picked up listening to his father (and maybe his uncle). It was probably a lot of little things, individual words and minor profanities and such. And perhaps Bobby’s father began to teach him when he was feeling well enough while staying in the hospital as a way to keep him busy.

In college, Bobby began taking classes on standardized German when his schedule would allow it and found it to be difficult at the start given the many differences between Swiss German and standardized German. But Bobby is nothing if not stubborn, so he worked at it and eventually picked up a fair bit. He enjoys it because he’ll speak a mix of Swiss German and German when he’s home helping out his father in the jewelry shop, and his father seems to light up whenever they engage in his native tongue.

This leads us to the 1936 Berlin Olympics. What if the UW rowing team were being shown around by a German official and a translator. The German official is speaking as they were shown around the facilities with the translator relaying everything to them. But pretty quickly Bobby realizes that the translator is relaying everything to them, that the official is making particular comments and jokes clearly intended for the translator’s ears only. Bobby is growing more and more agitated, doing his best to ignore the snide remarks.

But one hits a nerve and Bobby speaks up like “umm excuse me what did you just say?” And the translator repeats himself but Bobby is like “nonono I’m talking to that guy” and he points to the official. The translator tells him again, definitely annoyed now and so the boys convince Bobby to drop it. They continue the tour but then the translator begins to go over some important information regarding the upcoming days events, maybe when and where they’re expected show up for a pre-race meeting with officials or something equally important, and the things that he’s saying don’t exactly line up with what the official is telling them. Bobby has to speak up now like this is important. The others try to quiet him but he has to figure this out now before they get disqualified due to whatever sabotage is going on here. He’s trying to convince the coaches that something is going on like “but that’s not what he said! He said ABC but he said XYZ.” And then Bobby emphatically jumps into speaking German, but he’s lowkey stressed so it comes out a heavy mix of Swiss German and standard German gibberish so the Germans don’t know what he’s saying. However, they can tell that he knows what they’re saying and grow uncomfortable, eventually admitting that they mixed up the time of the meeting with a different event even though they could tell by that point that it had been no accident.

From then on Bobby begins paying a lot closer attention what’s being said and the coaches and the boys are regularly looking at him to make sure that what they’re being told is true because now they’re nervous.

[sparrow-in-the-field]

Chapter 4 of The Walk Home got me thinking about how it'd be cute if after the rough start, Don and the new cox end up becoming friends, and when Bobby finds out (obviously much later), he is a little bit jealous, which Don finds amusing because it is (obviously) purely platonic. Anyway here are two drabbles about that :> under the cut because they're a bit long (also don't read until you've read ch 4 unless you don't care about spoilers!)

Just for clarification: the new cox is an OC, not based on anyone from the movie or any real life people

Winter 1936

Don asked the rest of the crew to not tell the newbies why they were having a bonfire; a bit embarrassed over his panicked, near running away, he preferred they didn't know. None of them knew him that well, or about what had happened in Berlin, and it was too hard to explain. He'd rather they just think he was a quiet, somber guy, and leave it at that. The guys were understanding, and just told the newbies it was a crew bonding experience. They all bought it, except for maybe Carter, their new cox. The scrawny sophomore was quieter than Bobby had been, more reserved when he wasn't in the shell, and his wary glances over to Don during the idle chatter of the bonfire didn't go unnoticed by the stroke. Don had been taking issue with whatever cox Ulbrickson put in front of him the whole semester, and it all came to a head with Carter. The sophomore didn't tolerate Don's rebellion the way the other two Ulbrickson had tried putting the shell did. Carter didn't seem to care that Don was the Olympic champion stroke, he expected Don to listen to him, and he called Don out when he didn't. Don had snapped at him earlier in the day, and he now realized he owed the young boy an apology. When the fire had died down to mostly glowing embers, late enough in the night that the crew was ready for bed, all of them still chatting and laughing the way they had all night as they got up to leave, Don spoke up. "Carter," he said, causing everyone to freeze and stare at him. He could barely meet the boy's gaze in the dark of the night. "Can you stick around a minute?" The boy seemed tense, but he gave a short nod. "Sure." He sat back down, near Don, but not too close. He stared into the embers of the fire, and he didn't speak.

Don took in a breath, deciding to stare into the dying fire, too. "What do you know about Bobby Moch?"

The question must have been unexpected, because Carter turned his gaze to look at Don quizzically. "Your cox from last year?"

Don nodded.

Carter shrugged, gaze returning to the fire. "Just the same as what everybody knows. He's a coxing legend now, after leading you guys through Poughkeepsie and the Olympics. He was a genius when it came to strategy; rumor among coxes is Ulbrickson knew before he even had the Olympic crew together that Moch would be the cox, no matter what."

Don smiled, tried to fight down the ache in his chest that remembering Bobby too fondly would always cause. "That's true." He looked at the boy. "Anything else?"

Carter met Don's gaze, looking him over, seeming to bite his tongue. He finally took the bait, "I'd see him around sometimes last year, when I was a freshman. He—he didn't have a bird."

"Right," Don said. He waited a beat, the logs shifting in the firepit, the remnants of the wood still crackling. "Bob and I were in love."

It was the first time he had ever said it out loud; the guys seemed to understand, but he’d never said it in so many words to any of them. The only time he ever said it outright was to Pip in his dreams. But it was true, and feeling his voice sound out the words didn't make him waver; in a way, it felt reassuring, felt good, to really say it.

Carter looked over at him again. "You were dating?"

Don's lips downturned in a pout, and he shook his head. "It was complicated, since Bobby didn't have his bird. He left after Berlin, and asked to never see me again, because he doesn't want me to see him die. He's off somewhere in Europe now."

Carter drew in and exhaled a breath, shaking his head. "That's awful."

"Yeah," Don said quietly.

"It was kind of a jackass move, just ditching you like that."

Don couldn't help chuckling at the young cox’s bluntness. He picked at the blades of grass at his feet, chucking them towards the firepit. 

"Yeah, he could be a jackass sometimes," he said, not even pretending to hide his fondness. He hummed, turning to look at Carter. "It's been really hard having someone else in front of me besides Bob. The two of us, we had this...connection. It's not something I expect to ever have again with anyone else." Don took a beat, drawing in a breath. He looked down at his hands, but made sure to meet Carter’s gaze as he said, "But that doesn't mean I can't listen to what you say. It’s my job as stroke to do what you call, and I should trust your judgment. I'm sorry I've made my personal issues your problem, and I'm gonna try to do better from now on."

Carter studied him for a long moment before he nodded. "Thanks, Don. To be honest, having to fill Moch’s shoes—it’s been intimidating. I’ve been trying to hold my own, but hell, I’m supposed to boss around Olympic gold medalists? As a sophomore?”

The both of them laughed, and Don nudged him. “You’re doing better than the two juniors before you.”

“Really?”

“It’s why I got sent to Ulbrickson’s office today and not you to get replaced,” Don said with a huff, and then he stood up. “Come on, it’s getting cold with the fire out. Let’s go back to the house.”

The two walked across the lawn, Carter having to take double the steps to keep up with Don’s long strides.

“Hey, Don?” he spoke up after a beat.

“Yeah?”

“Did you really row in the Olympics with a terrible fever?”

Don chuckled. “Sure did.”

“Man. How did you do it? How’d you pull it off?”

“Honestly?” Don looked over at Carter, giving a smirk. “I have no fucking idea.”

Carter grinned. “So cool.”

Don huffed a laugh, and he gave the kid a playful shove as they continued back to the house.

Fall 1938

Don was excited to be back in Seattle; just last year, he wasn’t sure he’d ever feel comfortable with the idea of returning. But now, with Bobby back in his life, safe and permanently, he was happy to be back home.

He liked watching Bobby prepare for the next semester of rowing—freshman tryouts had just started, and even when he was back on the ship with Don after work, he’d be toiling over notes and ideas for the team.

“The returning crew gets in next week,” Bobby said when Don asked how it was going. He chuckled, “But that’s Al’s problem.”

Don laughed, too, but then a thought occurred to him, one that made him brighten with a smile. “Wait, I bet Carter’s still on the team! He’d be a senior this year. Oh man, I need to drop by practice sometime to see him.”

Bobby furrowed his brow, looking up from his notes. “Who’s Carter?”

“He coxed the boat after you,” Don said.

“Oh.” Bobby seemed to sulk, looking down at his notes with a pout as he muttered, “I didn’t know there was another cox in your life.”

Don nearly snorted a laugh. “We couldn’t exactly leave your seat empty after you left, Bob.”

Bobby hummed indignantly. He shut his notebook. “Was he as good as me?”

Don rolled his eyes. “Don’t be mean.”

Bobby stood up as he gave a coy smirk, shrugging with faux innocence. “It was just a question.” He stepped over to the counter, setting down his things. “So, you were…close, with this new cox?”

Don hummed, amused by Bobby’s jealousy. “We became pretty good friends, after a bit of a rough start.”

“I see. I’ll have to keep an eye out for him at practice, see if he’s any good.”

Don chuckled, standing up to follow Bobby to the counter. “He’s like four years younger than you, Bob—don’t bully a kid out of jealousy.”

“Jealous? Do I have something to be jealous of?” Bobby said, still playing up the feigned innocence.

“Not unless you’re going to be jealous of someone who feels like a little brother to me,” Don said with a smirk. He reached down, tucking his hand to hold Bobby’s chin, prompting him to meet his gaze. He spoke more sincerely, “You know no one’s ever come close to replacing you in the space you fill in my heart. They never could have—you never left it.”

Bobby’s eyes softened at the words, and he dropped the coy act for a moment, bringing his hands up to Don’s chest. “You’re my stroke. You always were.”

Don hummed fondly, placing a kiss to Bobby’s forehead before meeting his eyes again. “And you’re my cox, Bobby. Always.”

Bobby smiled, his eyes glistening a bit, before he reached up and kissed Don. When he pulled away, he arched a teasing brow. “But really—was he as good as me?”

Don laughed. He brought both of his hands up, holding Bobby’s face. “Let’s put it this way: there’s only one of you that I share an Olympic gold medal with.”

Bobby smirked, clearly happy with the answer. “That’s what I thought.”

Don hummed, leaning in to kiss him again.