Horse husband outdid me at polo. Before he knew how to ride. If you have limited time, go to 1:39 as that’s where my “hitting like a girl” humiliation begins.
Three years ago at Thanksgiving I had the privilege of an unexpected ride on an Argentine polo pony in Lake Geneva, Wisconsin. The video documenting this adventure has been lost for three years, but Mark just found it this New Year’s and edited it down to 2 minutes.
The day this was videoed I literally was in tears from laughing at how terrible of a polo rider I was and how professional the non-rider (a.k.a. husband, or shall I call him Prince William?) was.
The Polo Backstory
At the time my then 12-year old niece was regularly riding two of her friend’s mom’s horses who were seasoned polo mounts. Mattie suggested we go to the barn to see her and her friend ride, so Mark and I bundled up and off we went, camera in hand.
After watching the adolescent girls cruise around the indoor arena and practice swinging the mallet, occasionally making good contact on the ball, the mom/owner of the horses turned to Mark and me, “Would you like to ride?”
I didn’t have boots or a helmet or any riding gear. I was wearing a black beret. “Ghetto Mark” as my nephew in the background referred to him, looked like a bank robber.
Before we hopped on the small horses, the mom/owner said the horses were bombproof. “Great horses because you can do anything with them and nothing scares them, but don’t really have a lot of personality.”
Welcome news since Mark had only ridden once before in his life.
I repeat. Mark had only ridden once in his life. At a walk. On a trail ride. In Lake Tahoe. Many years ago.
Being a true horsewoman, I walked my mount several laps to get the feel of him. I then began a cautious trot while holding the long, awkward mallet. I was worried I’d clock the horse. I didn’t realize what my greenhorn spouse was doing until after much manuevering and careful planning, I swung the mallet and the ball basically stood still. Immediately after my polo fail, Mark came cantering from the other side of the arena and hit the ball as though he’d been playing polo his whole life.
What Happened After I Got Schooled
When he dismounted the pony he asked the mom/owner, “How much does one of these cost?!?”
He was clearly sold. I knew that was a good sign for my relatively new marriage, but I also knew that as much as I had fun with the polo ponies, I had my heart set on another Thoroughbred and it would be worth it to me to wait.
(Pardon the wiggly shooting. My niece was not an expert camerawoman at the time, but she was a snarky narrator.)
Your Turn (I love your comments!): Have you given polo a shot? How’d it go?