Eight Big Men in Black-and-White Tracksuits
by Ronnie MacLennan Baird
July 2026
As the Commonwealth Games return to Scotland, Ronnie MacLennan Baird recalls his controversial appointment as a Technical Aide at the 1986 regatta.
The Commonwealth Games are back in Scotland for a fourth time and, although the 2026 Games (sub-contracted by the great state of Victoria, to Glasgow) have been beleaguered in their way, this is as nothing to the Games that took place in Edinburgh 40 years ago this week.
If Glasgow ’26 has been a ‘cutdown Games’ in terms of sports, Edinburgh in ’86 was cutdown in terms of athletes, significantly overshadowed by a 32-nation boycott against the continuing supportive stance of the Thatcher government towards apartheid in South Africa.
However, Edinburgh did push the boat(s) out in one respect: after a gap of 24 years, rowing events were part of the programme for the seventh — and almost certainly the last — time.
Now, no-one could ever accuse me of being a sportsperson. However, in my late youth, I achieved no fewer than two distinctions in the discipline of rowing. I fell into the River Clyde, not once but twice, in one school year (a record). And I was appointed Technical Aide at the Commonwealth Games regatta, in the Year of our Lord 1986.
Technical Aide may sound a grand title — but basically it involved pressing a thumb switch as boats passed.
For two of the four days, I did this from a small Portakabin on a pontoon in the middle of Strathclyde Loch. For one of the days, I was on the shore at the start, pressing a pair of buttons: one for the scoreboard and television, and one for the official timing system.
But, for one day only – and a medal racing day at that – I was in the Finish-line tower itself…!
The Men's Eights was an eventful race.
You can watch a recording of it here on YouTube — and the start of that recording confirms my recollection that there had been at least one false start (whatever Google may have insisted when I attempted to refresh my memory!).
During the race, a luckless Welsh oarsman caught a crab in the far-from-ideal wind and wave conditions, and jumped into the loch to save the rest of his crew from carrying the dead weight.
And then there was the photo finish.
Australia had clearly won the gold and England the silver… but what was not immediately apparent was which eight had won the bronze.
What I omitted to mention earlier was that the reason I had two buttons at the Start was that the two timing systems did not speak to each other and were in fact entirely separate.
Except, while the photo finish was in the process of being adjudged, the scoreboard was still showing Canada in third. So not unreasonably — the New Zealand crew chose not to hang around for a medal ceremony of which they did not think they would be part.
If Canada had remained in the bronze medal place, I would not have a story to tell, so (needless to say) the result was that New Zealand had come third... by two hundredths of a second… over 2000 metres.
One person who very quickly presented his credentials was the Canadian Chef d'Équipe. My recollection is that he made his views known in a manner that did not necessarily conform to Canadian stereotype. (It would also have to have been the day that Canada’s Minister of Sport was visiting the venue — but he seemed to be taking things in better part when he visited the tower, later.)
The officer in charge of ceremonial duties, meanwhile, had his own problems. Where had the New Zealand rowers gone? And could they be rounded up in time for a medal ceremony?
Increasingly frantic — and accordingly willing to improvise — he yelled into his walkie-talkie a string of commands that came rushing back to me this week after forty years (and that I could not possibly have made up):
“I don't care!” he bellowed. “Just get me eight big men in black-and-white tracksuits!!”
And then:
“... Alright – eight big men, and one little one!!”
Thank heavens somebody remembered that an ‘eights’ crew actually consists of nine people. Or else there would have been another cox-up.
