When I first got asked this question I didn’t really have an answer. The only thing I could conjure up was, “I’ve always wanted to” and that idea remains today.
The want to play is more of a feeling than a logical reason. Making sense in my gut and heart. My brain tries to tell me otherwise.
The first time I saw a polo game was with my family. My Granddad was an avid player, a four-goal player who purposely missed seasons to remain a very good three-goal. I remember sitting in the back of his black Toyota Hilux watching him play. The specifics of the game escape me, but I remember being completely captivated by the entire experience.
He passed away not long after that and my family’s interest in the game began to dwindle. Over the five to ten years following his death, we went to three or four games, which I loved. I loved stick-and-balling, treading in, and watching high and low goal players as they galloped across the field. It’s highly likely that some of my desire to play comes from this connection to my grandfather.
I didn’t know him well, as he died while I was young, so maybe this is me trying to be closer to him? Keep the tradition going.
More recently, while the complexity of learning polo is setting in, I still don’t have a concrete answer. Some reasons pop up here and there (to play, to win), but it still comes back down to that feeling. What I do know is that I am not particularly concerned with the status. Polo is associated with aristocracy, and members of the British royal family are avid players.
The linen suits and fancy hats are all part of the appeal for some people.
Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing quite like having a day out at the polo. Grabbing some mates, getting suited and booted just to drink champagne and watch horses run around all day. A genuine blast and if you’ve not done that, I highly recommend it. PS. The clubhouse tickets are usually worth the extra cost. But that same status association doesn’t translate to playing, at least not for me anyway. If anything it’s a burden.
Polo is a very expensive game to play. If you’ve researched it or heard someone talk about it, the cost has probably come up at some point. It’s true. Spending £100 on a 45-minute lesson is unbelievably expensive and that’s just to get started.
Once you’re actually good enough to play you can easily run up a £1,800-a-month bill in lessons and practice chukkas. I’m not learning polo because it’s affordable. Neither is it particularly accessible. Most polo clubs are in the middle of nowhere. Travelling is an absolute animal of a job if you don’t own a car.
Like lots of young men, I still have this belief that I could be a professional sportsperson. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, ask one of the men in your life if they think they could.
Polo is a game of all ages and I know a lot of sports say that, but polo is one of the only sports where I’ve seen a literal child and a pensioner playing on both the same and opposing teams, which fills me with hope. It gives validation to that small part of me that still believes a professional sports career is an option. However, while I would always dream of that, I would not say it’s the only reason I learn.
I learn because I want to play and I still don’t know why I want to play. Maybe I never will. Is that what it means to find meaning?
Sam Plays Polo 