A while ago, there was a popular video that rapidly became a meme, which then quickly transformed into a dance craze of imitators online posting their version of a young boy riding on the bow of a rowboat during a race. He was apparently acting as a coxswain of sorts, directing the rowing crew as they glided through the water. This video was shared with a variety of music tracks in the background, as the young boy was waving and moving his hands in a rhythmic sort of way. Once paired with music, it transformed into an inspirational moment that clearly captured the attention of millions of people who reacted to it on social media. If you’ve been active on any forum, you’ve probably seen this video at some point.
Recently, I’ve seen the video used as an attention-grabber to emphasize a point on leadership. The claim is that dynamic and visionary leadership can help a team reach new heights of performance. Although I appreciate the sentiment of this message, I finally decided to figure out exactly where this video came from, who was in it, and what was really going on to have this kid performing such a dance on the bow in that manner.
In the video, there are some clues—there are characters on the side of the boat and some lettering on the shirts of the rowing crew. There are also some people clearly wearing ceremonial garb. After some searching, I learned that this was a video taken from a recent ceremonial boat race in Indonesia. It was a rather famous boat race called Pacu Jalur, and although not a professional or Olympic-style event, it is a contest that various groups in that region and surrounding areas participate in. This has been a tradition for hundreds of years and is quite the celebration, from what I can tell by watching various videos I was able to track down.
This particular team in the video is well known, although I was unable to track down the identity of the young man. I wonder if he even knows how famous he became on TikTok, X, Instagram, and LinkedIn?
I started looking into what the young boy was actually doing. I found the full-length video—someone had posted it on YouTube. It showed the entire race, and I was better able to see what the young boy was doing. It was clear that most of his role involved entertaining the crowd. I did notice a few moments where it seemed he was giving some directional cues, and there appeared to be some rhythm involved. I couldn’t hear any sound, but I would guess the boat had something playing to help keep all the rowers in sync. I looked up this type of boat racing, and yes—that is a common practice in these types of ceremonial rowing competitions. As it turns out, many countries have similar traditions—Polynesian islands, Japan, India, Italy, and the Netherlands, just to name a few.
I’m most familiar with Dragon Boat Racing from China. This form of boat racing has become a sport governed by an international agency. I’ve had the pleasure of serving on the crew of one of these boats.
Of course, it wasn’t a long stint. It was part of a corporate retreat and only lasted a day or two. I was on a crew with my work colleagues, and it was just a team-building exercise, with a lesson built in by the retired military general who was teaching the course. I’m proud to say that I was on the winning crew that day—out of five others. We won easily, and by many boat lengths.
This was not due to anything I did. It had everything to do with our assigned coxswain. She was a ferocious, mean, aggressive, and very loud woman who literally and actually beat us toward victory. She was NOT anything like the young boy on the bow of the Indonesian sweep rowing vessel.
The lesson was meant to help us understand the importance of working as a team—rowing in the same direction. We learned that if one person pulled too hard or disrupted the water trying to be a hero, it would throw off the entire boat. Our first time out, we fumbled and struggled. Some of the men wanted to show off their strength, others wanted to show off their understanding of how to row correctly, and others just wanted to laugh and take pictures.
Then the coxswain started doing her job. I never really understood what that person was doing—sitting at the front of the boat and talking to the rowers through a microphone—during the Olympic events I had watched on TV. Well, I found out. This woman didn’t need a microphone. We could hear her—and so could some people in Japan, Denmark, and Brazil.
We followed her orders because we wanted to win—but mostly out of fear. She was intimidating, to say the least. She reminded me of Randy Savage from 1980s WWF wrestling—only shorter and broader in the shoulders. Her hair looked like that of the rock star Pink, but her stare was pure Clint Eastwood from Unforgiven. Every once in a while, I’ll wake up from a nightmare, and she’ll be the source—yelling at me to row, not row, slow down, speed up, and various sweep rowing terms I can’t even remember.
There was a drummer, a steerer, and the rest of us—about 20 paddlers in all. We ran five or six races, each around 2000 meters. We won every heat, and each time we finished, I felt dizzy from exhaustion. On more than one occasion, I thought I would lose my breakfast—and dinner—from the past six weeks, right into the river.
I realize I was supposed to take away all these great, inspiring lessons about teamwork and rowing in unison. What I ultimately learned is that our success came from a strong-willed leader who knew what she was doing and was highly skilled at her craft. She knew exactly what the goal was and willed us all into compliance.
We fell in line, and she quickly figured out who the troublemakers were going to be. She figured me out right away as a potential problem. Immediately, she looked straight at me and said:
“Do not look anywhere else except at the back of the woman’s shirt in front of you. Do not look down, do not look up, do not look around. Hold water when I say ‘hold.’ Stop when I say ‘paddles down.’ Drive when I say ‘drive.’ There is nothing for you to figure out here—just do what I say. You want to win? Then shut the &#$&! up and paddle.”
It was amazing how quickly she taught us how to turn, back up, slow down, speed up, get in sync, and settle in. She was in total control—and quite literally, we were just the engine.
I left that exercise realizing that the person steering—the coxswain—was the difference-maker. We weren’t the strongest crew. Our team was mostly women, and two of the men were from accounting. No offense to accountants, but they’re not exactly in the gym every day. Me and one other man were probably the only ones who had seen a gym this decade—and both of us were a little soft in the middle.
Other crews had mostly men—one had an ultra-runner, another had a bodybuilder. I thought for sure they would win. But that wasn’t the case. With 20 people rowing a dragon boat, power gets equalized pretty quickly. It’s not about strength—it’s about uniformity, coordination, and technique.
I watched the other coxswains. They were good—but none were a match for ours. She was a force to be listened to. It was through her voice, her confidence, and her insistence that we pulled that boat through the water and won every race. In this case, the win was all thanks to the leader.
So, I think there is a lesson here. Teamwork, rowing in the same direction, and being a unified force rather than a group of individual superstars are all good lessons. But sometimes, a leader just needs to lead. Sometimes, you’ve got to tell people what to do and be the driving force.
That can be the wrong path in some situations—but often, people need that clear, confident, and direct voice guiding them.
One final note: when we were done and had all passed out on the side of the river, she came up, and after making us get up and clean up after ourselves, she sat with each of us. She politely and calmly asked for feedback—our assessment, our collective and individual thoughts on the exercise. She transformed from that vicious harpy from the depths of Poseidon’s lair to a kind and affectionate woman who reminded you of your grandmother.
She listened, asked questions, reflected, and then offered some positive comments and personal feedback. We all left the exercise feeling like we had met our worst nightmare—and also a friend for life.
No offense to those posting videos of the young man from Indonesia dancing calmly on the bow of his vessel—but I met the coxswain of a professional dragon boat team, and I know the truth about what it takes to lead a group of strong-willed people to victory.
