Olympics: 3 in U.S. boat, from the Schuylkill to Rio

Can three-tenths of a second determine four years of your life? Add these facts: Those three-tenths are the margin between third place and fourth in an Olympic rowing final contested over 2,000 meters.

"It's a hard thing to walk away from," said Steve Kasprzyk, who found he couldn't.

The Drexel graduate from Cinnaminson is the only returnee from the United States men's rowing eight at the 2012 London Olympics. Going into London, Kasprzyk had intended to retire regardless of result. He'd already turned 30, given the sport a dozen years. But those three-tenths lingered. Within a month, Kasprzyk decided he'd devote four more years to it.

"Everything between then and now has sort of been to get back to that final," Kasprzyk said.

In Rio, the eight rowers and coxswain in the men's eight include three who learned their sport on the Schuylkill. In addition to Kasprzyk, Glenn Ochal, a Roman Catholic High graduate, is back after winning a bronze medal in the men's four in London. Coxswain Sam Ojserkis, the Olympic newcomer of the trio, is another South Jersey guy, from Linwood, but he learned his trade coxing every Sunday at the Manny Flick Series for Mainland High, then competing in the Philadelphia City Championships and the Stotesbury.

The only men's boat at the Olympics that has a coxswain is the men's eight, which makes Ojserkis, 26, the top male coxswain in the country. Some distinction for a guy who never coxed the top boat at Mainland High. Even as a senior, Ojserkis had the second varsity eight at Stotesbury. By that time, rowing power Washington already had agreed to take him.

"I was also in the second varsity eight my junior year [at Mainland] and we had some pretty good success," Ojserkis said, so if Washington took a chance, it wasn't a big chance. "Frankly, I was one of eight coxswains coming in to [Washington], so they'll take anybody, put them through the meat grinder, and see what comes out. I was lucky enough to come out of that."

At Washington, Ojserkis won a national title in the second varsity as a sophomore, then two more national titles with the first varsity.

"Sam's probably the best racing coxswain I've ever had," Ochal said. What goes into that, Ochal explained, is a great combination of youthful enthusiasm and calm diligence, "poised in the moment, not freaking out." They try to stick to the race plan, and Ojserkis keeps the rowers aware of where they are so they can stick to the task at hand.

"He's really good at executing and making the right audibles," Ochal added. "OK, we've got to go a little sooner, to start a sprint. He's very good at asking more of the guys at the right times, and the boat has responded well."

Ochal, a Princeton graduate from Roxborough who turned 30 in March, isn't the type to brag, but he already has had a special career. His path to Rio included an intentional detour after London. Rowing is not the kind of sport in which past accomplishments grant any dispensation, so Ochal took a chance when he mostly left competition for two years, moving to Los Angeles with his now-wife, taking a job in marketing with the NFL Network.

He still worked out every morning and again after work, and joined the U.S. team for one summer competition each year. It was a path toward normal life, including a wedding. His wife is a doctor now in residency in L.A. But the last two years have been devoted to full-time national-team work.

"I think I'm at the same level," Ochal said of when he was in London. "Ideally, hopefully a little higher . . . We'll find out . . . Four more years of training. I know I'm older, and in rowing in theory you peak a little older. You don't see many teenagers in our sport. You do see a lot of people around 30."

At 34, Kasprzyk is the only one in the boat older than Ochal, but the two are in the boat's engine room, Kasprzyk in the five seat, Ochal in the four, providing power in addition to their expertise.

"Steve is obviously incredibly strong," said Ojserkis, the coxswain. "He doesn't say a lot, and when he does it's very powerful. It's like, yeah, that guy, when he says something, he wants it, he needs it.

"One time we were all sitting in our huddle post-practice and we were like, 'Yeah, it's going pretty well.' And Steve's like, 'No, no, it's not. That's not good enough.' And here's a guy who rarely speaks up, so when he does, oh boy, OK, we've got to get in gear here."

Kasprzyk, who is 6-foot-7, went to Holy Cross High, which didn't have a rowing team. He began at Drexel.

"I wandered into it, I basically tripped over it and said, 'Oh, hey, this is a new sport, I'll try this,' " Kasprzyk said. "My roommate in college was going to try out. I joined him for the initial meeting, started showing up for practices, sort of developed a love for the sport."

Of the Schuylkill, Kasprzyk said, "That's where I think of when I think of rowing. I still think Schuylkill. For 10 years, I trained there. After Drexel, at Penn AC." In his time at Drexel, "making the final at Dad Vail was a big deal for us."

Now, his singular focus is on the final in Rio, the most important final his sport offers. Watching that London final, you see the final margin doesn't even quite capture how close the Americans were to a medal. Britain, which took the bronze, had been leading over the second half of the race, and was 21/2 seconds ahead of the United States after 1,500 meters, just 500 to go. But the Brits started to fade a bit, as Germany came on and took gold. The Americans made up almost all that 21/2 seconds and maybe would have had the bronze if the race had lasted another 100 meters. That's just not the way sports works.

"Now you need to jell as a crew," Kasprzyk said, sitting a couple of weeks back in Princeton's boathouse, amid final preparations for Rio. "You need to do everything together, maybe give up individual things. How does the group row? That always continues to the final, trying to get the crew to jell. This is the grind right now, we're supposed to be tired every day, and pulling ourselves out of bed, and sore all day long."

Four years of it, in search of those three-tenths of a second.

mjensen@phillynews.com

@jensenoffcampus