Sam Plays Polo

Tag: Learning Polo

  • Madame Guillotine Would’ve Been Proud

    Madame Guillotine Would’ve Been Proud

    Polo is the most difficult sport ever. No competition. I’m not just talking about equestrian sports. I mean ALL SPORTS. Now, before you come at me, I will preface the reasoning for my claim with the fact that I have not tried every sport on earth. But the sports I have tried (show jumping, skiing, rugby, football, tennis, cricket, boxing, ping pong, snooker, swimming, platform diving, scuba diving) are WAY EASIER.

    Today was stick and balling. A day I look forward to, although it usually ends with my ego sat in a pile of mulch on the floor, next to the arena ball I’ve missed for the seventeen-hundredth time. Still, while it was a challenge, it was useful, and I can feel myself improving.

    In saying that, I chopped the top off so many times today, Madame Guillotine would’ve been proud.

    For those that don’t know, chopping the top off means hitting the ball too high up, so it goes absolutely nowhere on account of being smashed into the floor. It’s also accompanied by a distinctively disgusting clink, rather than the audibly appealing clunk of a well-struck ball. Though it does depend on the ball.

    We kept things at a slow walk, focusing on getting the timing and strokes right, just like we did when I learned on foot. Even so, I floundered. I was wrestling with myself to remember “leg on, squeeze, rein on the neck” while trying to hit the ball at the same time. My coach kept on at my form, but keeping the commands right through the shot was hard enough, let alone looking good doing it.

    What I found was that as soon as I assumed the position for any of the four strokes, I would lose my balance and either leg yield, turn, or stop completely. All of which, in some form or another, would lead to a foul.

    I miss the ease of my early lessons, back before I’d made the weight to ride, when my biggest problem was trying not to get caught in the thorns after chasing a polo ball I’d sent 150 yards into the bush for the third time. Before I could ride the polo pony available to me, I needed to cut around 6kg (around 13lbs, or just under a stone), which I did with a solid calorie deficit, active work and tracking. I’m healthier for it now.

    Riding and stick and balling are, independently, quite simple once you get the hang of them. Not easy, but not impossible either. The processes are easy-ish to remember, the focus is there, and once you notice what you’re doing wrong, you can more or less work out how to improve. That doesn’t feel like the case when you put the two together. Unfortunately for yours truly, as soon as we try to bring it all together for the final scene, the lead act collapses, the sun falls out the sky, and somehow the conductor’s stuck in the tuba.

    While I love polo, today was another tough day. Being recognised for improving did help, and remembering that everyone finds this stuff hard took some of the pressure off, but it was still slightly disheartening. The big realisation today was just how long it’s going to take me to get to the level I want.

    PS. Did you know walk and canter have a similar feel? Nope, neither did I. But it makes total sense why canter is so much more comfortable than trot. Trot’s horrid. Nobody likes trot.

  • Ball then Floor. Well, Ground.

    Ball then Floor. Well, Ground.

    Lots of confidence, energy, but not enough balance. That and having the grip strength of a newborn is the best way to describe the bulk of my lesson today. While trying not to be too harsh on myself, it was a really enjoyable lesson. I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again: polo is an extremely complex sport to learn.

    Polo is arguably the purest expression of multitasking in sport — The Telegraph

    Following the standard tack-up, we plodded up to the green, waving cars by as we went, with a very hyper Apollo in tow. After some trotting around the green, we dove straight into stick and ball work. The hardest, yet most enjoyable lessons we do. 40 minutes of stick work and an hour-long hack.

    It was harder for me to remember to keep my heels down today. Introducing both the mallet and the crop, all while using reins that I did not like (bad tradesmen and all), added so much to think about that it did feel like taking a step backwards, when in reality it’s me learning. That feeling of being on the edge of failure—that’s where the learning really happens. When you’re struggling, but not suffering.

    While the seat wasn’t coming to me so naturally and in some cases I did struggle to get the energy I wanted from poor old Enza, especially when heading to the ball, my leg yielding was improving. Now, I mentioned in my last article that the beauty’s in the details—smaller movements, more result; that may still be the case. However, today… Out of the brain. “That was pretty terrible” must have been the most spoken phrase of the whole lesson! Followed shortly by “good” and “you’ve missed the ball”. You really do have to get out the saddle, and if that knee’s not in, the weight’s not in the heels, or you overextend…

    The standout moment of the entire session, though, was going head-first—or wrist-first—into the floor. Overextending to reach a ball that I was far too far away from ended up with me kissing the dirt. A genuinely valuable insight into how easy it would be to come a cropper playing polo. Straight out the side door. No time to think. Ball then floor. Well, ground. We were outside.

    Luckily, there’s still a high enough percentage of my body that’s rubber, which meant I bounced pretty well. I shot straight up to be met with my coach’s laughter and us both wishing we’d filmed the endeavour. No memory of whether it was trot or canter; could well have been walk. But my coach and I agree it was a proper fall this time.

    We did get an excellent snippet of knowledge from the occasion though!

    Bring the horse to the ball, not yourself to the ball.

    Another notably frustrating thing is the unbelievable weakness in my forearm! I think my technique was slightly off, because OH MY GOD. With all the focus on actually riding, I’ve not been doing much stick work at all, and I’ve been forgetting the basics, losing that strength. I must train grip strength some more. It’s embarrassing.

    To top it all off, I—almost—completely forgot how to ride again. Not as badly as when I first started riding again, all of about 4 weeks ago, but a minor step backwards from what was an incredible lesson last Saturday. All part of the process though. Introducing the mallet again was another layer of complexity.

    Also, being in the UK with the clocks going back soon, I did find myself picking feet and washing down in the dark. Luckily, the chest mount I have for my phone came in super handy for hands-free yard work. Win Temu.

    For those that are curious: I don’t do too much stick and ball work while riding as we are doing what we can to protect my arm. I’ve already had a very minor case of golfer’s elbow. I wish we could call it polo elbow, but let’s be honest: no one would know what I’m talking about. When we do do ball work, I wear both an elbow and a wrist support and have a grip strength trainer at home.