Living in Neverland: March 2017

Robyn, me, Polly, and B

Have you ever really enjoyed something that you are completely and hopelessly terrible at? That is my relationship with polo. Well, maybe I am not hopelessly terrible, but I am definitely not good at it. As in, I often get used in examples of what not to do and how not to play. But still, I love this game. I love the adrenaline rush of chasing down a ball, trying to beat your opponent there, avoid getting hooked, and trying to hit the ball, all while on a galloping horse with seven other idiots on horseback all doing the same thing. I definitely understand how this can be an addicting sport…for those who can afford it. In professional polo leagues, a single player will bring a minimum of six horses for a single match, sometimes even bringing up to twenty horses for matches with eight chukkas (periods). Needless to say, you need a lot of money to be competitive in this sport. Luckily for me, I get a taste of polo without having to own a single horse!

trying to learn as I watch the pros

wohoo, I actually hit it!!

Before coming here, I was daunted by the knowledge that I would have to play polo. In contrast to this dread, I was also inexplicably excited to try something new. I remember my very first attempt at polo: lots of big swings followed by big misses, leaving a battlefield full of divots in my wake, constantly ‘crossing the line’ and messing up other people, and a look of confusion plastered on my face. I was utterly clueless and quite frustrated, yet walked off the field with a huge smile on my face and already looking forward to our next match.

B and Fanny in the cheering section

Last week was one of our craziest weeks at the estancia: polo week. We had three guests staying at the estancia for the sole purpose of playing polo. All of us guides were excited at the prospect of getting to play more polo this week, but I was also slightly intimidated by these people that had come to play. Not only were we playing with these three guests, who were getting private lessons from Belen, the first female professional polo player in the Cordoba province, but we also had ‘pros’ such as Belen, Lou, and Felipe (Belen’s step-son) to compete against. It was a somewhat daunting situation. As guides we have never gotten more than a 15 minute basic tutorial and a couple chukkas-worth of experience. Usually we only play once a week or every other week, so it is difficult to improve on something that we do so irregularly. Long story short, I was elated at the chance to play polo multiple times in one week, but was also harboring a deep fear of embarrassing myself in front of my boss, a polo pro, Swedish twins, and a fellow American.

backshot!

over the neck shot hooking attempt

full swing!

all of the competitors for Sunday's tournament

My hidden fear of embarrassment proved a genuine possibility. By the end of the week, these ladies were amazing at polo! Backhands, over the neck shots, full swings, and hooking had become the norm. A quick explanation of those terms (which I may have made up but they make sense in my head): backhand – running up to a ball then hitting it backwards while continuing to gallop forwards; over the neck – reaching over your horses neck with your right hand/mallet to hit the ball, also while at a gallop; full swing: also known as an Argentine swing around here, when you do a big wind up to put full force into hitting the ball; hooking – a defensive move in which you come up close behind the player trying to hit the ball, then use your own mallet to interfere with their shot by hooking their stick (it is really frickin’ annoying when it happens to you!). All of these moves are quite difficult, and yet these three seemed to have mastered most of them and were totally competent at the rest. Meanwhile, I was still struggling with your basic forward shot. Anyway, we were planning a mini-tournament for Sunday, and by Thursday, we knew that it would be a good competition. I would have to step up my game so as not to disappoint those people unlucky enough to be my teammates.

Team Chili Peppers: B, Felipe, me, and Alex

Team Warriors: Narda, Belen, Franco, and Polly

Team Orange (?): Jenny, Robyn, and Lou

Alex and Narda with Polly coming up the center

our goal post needed a bit of support

Part of the reason that this week felt extra busy was because each morning that these ladies were here, we had to saddle two horses per polo player and four extras, as ‘just in case’ horses. While this may not sound like much, keep in mind that we also needed to saddle horses for Belen and Lou, who were teaching the women to play. This meant that each morning we needed about fourteen horses ready to play polo: saddled with breast plate, martingale, and polo saddle, with tails braided and taped to stay out of the way of the mallets, and gear loaded into the truck. (Ominously this gear includes a back board - a foreboding sign that many people notice, but fortunately have not had to use). On the days that we guides got to play, that added another five to seven horses to the lineup. On Saturday and Sunday, we needed to prepare twenty-two horses for the polo pitch to accommodate the three polo pros (Belen, Lou, Felipe), three guests (Jenny, Alex, and Narda), and five guides (Robyn, Polly, B, Franco, and myself). B was the braiding fairy and could braid the horses’ tails astoundingly quick as the rest of us saddled the ponies. It was a huge team effort, but we got it done, and got to enjoy the rest of the day as we ran around the polo field cursing at each other and trying to hit that tiny white ball.

Belen (in gray) and Lou (back right in orange)

woot, woot, goal for the Chili Peppers!

Saturday and Sunday were filled with laughter, taunts, cursing, and the periodic sound of Belen roaring, “C’mon warriors!” as she urged her team down the field. This woman is unbelievable! Terrifying on the polo field, she remains an absolute delight and constantly kept all of us laughing, even while trying to steal the ball from each other. I absolutely love watching people play polo, everyone has their own style and own version of a ‘game face.’ Belen is constantly standing in her stirrups, stick raised in the air, rallying her team with assorted battle cries. Lou is not as vocal and goes for a more stealthy approach – hanging back as others miss the ball then sending it flying down the field with a massive hit. Felipe, was the picture of patience, giving us a chance at the ball then calling our names and hitting it up to us after we missed. Narda’s face was a contortion of concentration as she tried to fight off the twins for possession of the ball. Alex was almost always ahead of the pack on her speedy horses and grinning as she gracefully performed numerous over the neck shots. Jenny looked equally graceful and poised on her horse as she maintained the ball with controlled hits.

Felipe

B - our manager :) and Noname

Felipe and Belen

Meanwhile, us guides were all over the place, just trying to be helpful and not get in the way….at least that was my strategy. In every picture I have a massive, cheesy smile on my face, even when I whiff at the ball. My horses may not have been the fastest, and I may not be (aka am definitely not) the best, but we had a lot of heart. Robyn’s face fluctuated between spontaneous grins and composed concentration as she flew around the field performing full swings to assist her team. Polly was often just on the outskirts of the action and looking totally serene on her horse. Neither flustered nor elated, she floated around the action and made her moves when she saw the perfect opportunity. B, our manager, looked even more terrifying than Belen. With her mallet raised, red hair streaming out behind her, legs poised to kick, and mouth screaming encouragements at her horse to “f***ing GO,” she was the picture of determination and competition. Then there’s Franco, who was terrifying in his own right. Usually because he was totally unpredictable in his movements, aggressive in his swings, and you never quite knew where he would pop up. Different strategies, different facial expressions, but same level of energy and determination.

Polly, Robyn, and Franco

Robyn and La Turca

Polly and Gringo

Me and Quilombera

Belen hooking me

Both Saturday and Sunday were so much fun. On both days we were divided into teams of three and got to play a few chukkas. On Sunday, we played a round robin – each team got to square off against the other two teams for two chukkas. My dream team consisted of Felipe – the youngest of the pros at 17 years old, but also the most forgiving, which was just what we needed – Alex, B, and myself. In our first match, against Belen’s team of Belen, Narda, Franco, and Polly, we pulled out the win! My most coherent memory from that match was of yelling at Belen as she galloped up from behind to hook me and halt my breakaway. I was one more hit away from scoring when I felt my mallet wrenched backward and watched my horses hooves soar past the ball. It truly is one of the most annoying things that can happen in polo! But it is also quite satisfying to do it to someone and watch their face contort into rage. Later, in our second match against Lou’s team of Robyn and Jenny, Robyn hooked me and received a “curse you, Robyn!!!!” in return. It is all in good fun though; as much as I get hooked, I also get to hook other people so it all balances out in the end. Overall, the tournament ended with Lou’s team winning two matches, Felipe’s team winning one and losing one, and Belen’s team losing both. In the end though we all celebrated as we popped three bottles of champagne, drank ourselves into a pleasant buzz on the polo field, lined our bellies with choripan, then headed home with our brave, and exhausted, polo ponies.

celebration time!!!!!

Robyn shooting the gap

Franco and Robyn playing saltica

Narda and I squaring off

As much as I love playing polo, I am equally excited about gaucho games! Since my arrival, we have only played one round of gaucho games, so I was beyond thrilled when I learned that we were playing gaucho games after polo on Saturday. We play two games here: saltica and barrel racing. Saltica is the more traditional of the two games, and our gauchos here really excel at it. Saltica is a race between two opponents. Both opponents start about 30 yards away from a large T-post, armed with thin, 6 inch-long sticks. On either arm of the T-post, rings dangle at about head height. These rings are about 1.5inches in diameter and can be blown around in a stiff breeze. The object of the game: kick your horse into a gallop and spear the ring as your horse passes underneath the arm of the T-post. In order to win the game, you need to spear the ring and keep it on your stick. If you spear it but then it flies off your stick, it doesn’t count. In our estancia rules, the winner is either the one who spears the ring, or the first one to get there if no one manages to spear the ring. It is SO. MUCH. FUN. I love this game (as evidenced by the smile that takes over my face)! I’d like to bring this game back to the states and convince my boss in Wyoming to let us play at the ranch.

cannot. stop. SMILING. love this horse, Rubia :D

got the ring!

Polly channeling Lady Liberty as she snags the ring

Franco versus B

Robyn and I battling it out!

The second game is an Argentine blend of American barrel racing and pole bending. Instead of three barrels in the shape of a triangle, there are four barrels arranged in a straight line. The opponents race down the length of their respective barrels, then have to weave back to the starting point, do a full circle around the last barrel, weave back, then race home. The first one to re-cross the starting line wins. This one is fun to watch because you can see people trying to find the balance of speed versus control. Is it better to remain at a gallop but make wide turns, or to go a bit slower and make really tight turns? The horse-rider team that can do both, maintain speed while performing tight turns, will be the winner. Because everyone in this group was fairly competitive, it made for high energy races and lots of cheering. I couldn’t have chosen a better way to spend the afternoon.