First off, I managed to keep both a trot and a canter for more than 4 horse lengths, almost completing a full figure of eight in the make shift green arena we’ve got near the field. While rather miraculously going head over tit. Naturally, there is a video of on my Instagram.
Do not expect anything mind-blowing. It was really quite pathetic and far too controlled: more of a willing tumble than a genuine fall.
It is difficult to say how much of the lesson’s success was down to factors within my control. Maybe I am simply getting back into practice, but even on the ride out, Enza felt much more willing than she had last time. The walk from the field had energy, even with the stubborn Apollo in tow.
Then the coach appeared.
Stephen began snapping me into shape, encouraging me with the same phrases I remember hearing during riding lessons more than a decade ago, before jumping at Summer House in Gloucestershire:
“Leg on.”
“More leg.”
“Get her moving.”
They are phrases that experienced riders will know all too well.
At that moment, all my composure and control seemed to fly out of the window. To the reader thinking, “Well, that’s the instructor’s fault—he should be more encouraging and less controlling,” I hear you. I had exactly the same thought.
However, as I was reminded, polo is not the same as other equestrian sports.
In show jumping, the riding is highly technical, neat and controlled. During each competitive round, the rider has the arena to themselves, and the atmosphere demands concentration and relative quiet.
Polo is not like that.
When playing polo, the pressure is unimaginable, 8 horses, a ball, Line-of-the-ball (LOB), ride-offs, team strategy, and more. Keeping that in mind, it’s essential that high pressure and high demand is part of the foundation during training. That and the actual foundations.
You can’t just trot up and down the side during a polo game. You need to get on every horse and know how to ride it in 15 seconds, no matter what’s going on around you.
Although this lesson went more smoothly than the previous one, there were moments when my sense of humour began to falter—moments when I could not understand why something was not going the way I wanted.
In hindsight, and after a quick demonstration, I recognised that my balance and the distribution of my weight through the stirrups still need work. The main source of confusion, however, was the command “leg on”
I am still unsure whether this is specific to polo or simply something I have forgotten after so long out of the saddle. In this exercise, at least, “leg on” meant repeatedly nudging the horse with my heels. It did not mean maintaining a constant squeeze, as though trying to crush a watermelon.
I was also being asked to use my knees and thighs differently from the way I remember in more traditional, “technical” riding—but more on that another time.
All in all, we ended yesterday’s session on a much better note than the previous one. There is still a great deal to do, but there is now at least a chance that we might get involved in some arena games in early 2027.
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