“Hey, there are usually rowers on the river at this time, on Saturdays. Want me to take you?” He did. We went. Sat on the grass a little off the walkway and criticized the rowers’ form. “I can’t believe the angle of their grip on the paddle,” I said, disgusted. “So amateurish.” Conor turned to me. Took off his sunglasses. “Do you know anything at all about rowing?” “Nope.”
