It wobbled, it teetored, it rambled, but in the end it made it through the goal posts.
My instructor Fernando let out a shout of incredibility. This moment, three hours in the making, crafted by his patience to explain in spanish, english and french, in as many different ways as possible how to sit on a horse, swing a mallet, hit a ball while I responded by swinging at the air, knocking clods of dirt, hitting him, hitting myself, and hitting poor Zeta the pony (a steadfast soul, if understandably unenthusiastic about me), while dropping reins, crops, and mallets.
I am amazed that anyone can gallop around and hit that only-slightly-larger-than a ping-pong-ball at ALL much less with reliability and accuracy. BUT I had proof that it was possible as out with me on the field was a team practising for a match this weekend.
So my pony and I would be on our third attempt to hit a ball (walk, swing, miss, circle back, repeat), when I'd hear this crack, see the white flash of a ball flying past our heads. Next would be the pounding of eight hooves, then suddenly we'd be in the midst of two over-heated ponies and their .... errr.. rather sexily swarthy riders careening about. A flurry of mallets, spanish oaths, straining limbs, tossed heads, precariously fought balance points, and CRACK the ball would be off down the field again, the ponies spun around and chasing it down.
call me a fan!
Video of other people playing polo
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