It’s 3am on July 29th, 2021. I’m in my living room at home in West Cork, about to watch the biggest moment of my brother Fintan’s life. Mum is sitting on the sofa doing breathing exercises to calm herself down, and dad is on the other sofa with closed eyes, whispering words of encouragement to his son on the other side of the world. I’m taking deep breaths while pacing around the room. But this time it feels different, because my other brother, Jake, is standing next to me. Hands planted on either side of his lower back holding his spine upright, wincing with every slight movement. Suddenly the commentator is listing the crews. My chest tightens as he announces “McCarthy and O’Donovan for Ireland in lane three”. The buzzer sounds. It’s started.
It’s the A final of the lightweight men’s double sculls at the Tokyo 2020 Olympics. Mum and I turned away from the television holding hands, unable to look, Dad and Jake screaming at the screen, unable to look away.
“Let’s go Fin, it’s yours,” Jake affirms, his confidence never faltering. I swear Fin could hear every word, because before we could process it, they’d crossed the line.
In first place.
My brother had just fulfilled his dream of winning an Olympic gold medal. We all broke down in tears – all those years of dedication had paid off. I was bursting with pride, but something stopped me from feeling it fully. Something was missing. I turned to Jake. Both crying, we pulled each other into a hug. Although his tears too were full of pride, I knew that pride was not the whole of it.
We were all thinking it; he should’ve been in that boat alongside his twin brother.
But that’s not how rowing, or life, works.
As twins, I’ve watched my brothers go through, not just their rowing journey, but their whole lives, side by side. They’ve always been a team. Granted, their younger selves were practically polar opposites, but still they were a team. Fin got into rowing at fifteen; a last attempt to find a hobby outside of school, having proved himself hopeless at any other sports. Jake followed a year later to improve his fitness for the multitude of other sports he was excelling in (and to suss this sport that had Fin training more than him). Needless to say, they caught the bug fast. The dedication, discipline, and determination that it takes to be a successful athlete meant that from then on in, their lives became rowing.
And it is a brutal sport.
It’s all down to numbers and times, and simply who makes the boat go the fastest, with no room for politics or argument – something that drew Jake into rowing in the first place. But that ruthlessness meant that when Jake got injured (he was knocked off his bike by a bus and left with a herniated disc in his lower back, making him unable to move without intense nerve pain radiating down to his leg), he was immediately out of the running for a seat in the lightweight men’s double scull – the seat he’d been working towards his entire rowing career. Out of the other four athletes battling for a seat, Fin and Paul were the fastest combination. And that was it.
I know I might be a biased little sister, but the blood, sweat, tears, and sacrifice I’ve watched the boys put into rowing has been, at times painful, but nothing short of inspiring. And seeing it all pay off is an immense feeling of well-deserved justice. But what gives me the deepest reverence for my brothers as athletes and people, is the sheer resilience, drive, and strength, both mental and physical, that they’ve developed from the disappointments, failures, and simple bad luck that they’ve experienced. Particularly Jake.
While I don’t want to fall into the cliché of raving and boasting about having amazing siblings, I have never met anyone with the mental strength and resilience that Jake has. Not even Fin.
Imagine having to decide whether to call it quits on something you’ve put years of sacrifice and dedication into, or to keep trying, risking worsening an injury that could impact the rest of your life and put another four years into something you may not even achieve. Pile on top of that, fully supporting your twin brother living the dream you’ve put just as much brutal dedication, commitment, sacrifice, and pain into. But that’s exactly what he did. Instead of being consumed by resentment or surrendering to the misfortune, he accepted the circumstances he was facing, with grace and resilience, and kept pushing.
Watching him train through excruciating pain every day for over three years, whilst never losing the drive and determination to achieve his goals, has given me something to strive for. Every time life gets tough, and I’m tempted to give up or take the easy route, I think of him.
And now it’s come full circle. Fighting his way back to where he left off – battling for a seat in the lightweight double sculls at the next Olympics.
But with the lightweight category being cut from Olympic rowing after Paris 2024, this time it’s his last shot.