Page 26 of Polo Fever
As I watch Federico and Eduardo fastening the many buckles and straps, completing each stage in incredible speed with perfect precision, I swallow nervously, wondering whether I’ll ever be able to get to grips with it. To them, it seems second nature. They’re relaxed and efficient, chatting to each other and patting Byron as they go.
When Mateo appears, he launches into a conversation of rapid Spanish with Eduardo, and Jules tells me they’re discussing tactics for the next match. Mateo wants Eduardo’s opinion on which ponies to use for which chukka – a match is divided into six chukkas and the players will use at least one pony per chukka.
‘I thought Mateo was the pro. Doesn’t he make those decisions for himself?’ I ask.
‘Mateo knows the ponies well, but Eduardo knows them better. The grooms are thetrueexperts. They work, exercise and care for the ponies every single day, so they know their fitness, their temperament, any issues they’ve been having. Polo players rely heavily on the advice of the grooms.’
‘Right. Okay, so for professional players, the sport is the passion. But for the grooms, it’s the ponies.’
‘Now you’re getting it.’
‘And you’d rather be a groom than a player?’ I ask curiously. ‘How come Fitz is in the team and you’re not? I’m guessing you could easily have his spot when your mum is patron.’
‘I like polo, but I prefer eventing,’ she explains, glancing regrettably down at her wrist. ‘As soon as this thing heals, I’ll be back jumping again.’
Mateo mounts Byron in a swift, rapid motion and guides him out of the yard, while Jules and I walk along behind. She takes the opportunity to point out some important areas of the estate as Mateo takes Byron to warm up in the vast green field that Jules tells me is the ‘stick and ball field’. Other areas she points out are the sandy corrals, the turnout paddocks, exercise tracks and the polo field.
We come to a stop at the side of the stick and ball field. The sky has clouded over and I fold my arms across my chest for warmth, while Mateo canters down one side of the field before turning sharply, bringing Byron back the other way.
After warming up, he begins some drills. Gripping the reins in his left hand, the mallet in his right, Mateo gallopstowards one of the many balls lying in wait for him, swinging the mallet back and hitting it hard with a loudthwack, sending it flying out in front of him. He races after it and hits again with unbelievable accuracy despite the speed at which he’s going, before charging after it again and changing direction.
It’s mesmerising.
‘It’s going to rain,’ Jules announces as the clouds above get darker. ‘He’ll be coming in soon. I’m going to go back to the yard, but you can stay a bit longer if you want and help Eduardo when Mateo brings him in.’
I nod, unable to tear my gaze away from Byron majestically galloping across the field, Mateo manoeuvring him calmly and effortlessly. He looks as though he’s barely moving up there in the saddle, completely in control. He seems completely fearless. Dangerously so.
Jules’s prediction is correct; just a few moments after she’s left, I feel the first droplets of rain on my forehead and nose. It begins to get heavier, but I don’t care. A flicker of something has sparked once again in my belly, a passion I’d suppressed a long time ago. Watching Mateo, I remember how it felt to be up in a saddle, galloping down a field, the thrill and exhilaration of the speed of the horse, the power of its long, rhythmic strides beneath you, the wind beating against your cheeks. I feel an overwhelming urge to ride again, desperate to feel that rush of adrenaline.
Alone at the side of the field, I stay watching Mateo until the end of his session, completely entranced. He dismounts, his sopping-wet shirt plastered to his muscular torso, his face glistening with raindrops and sweat. He takes off his helmet and runs a hand through his hair, dishevelling it. Heleads Byron over and stops in front of me, holding my gaze as the rain trails down my face and flattens my hair, his chest heaving from the exercise. Mateo’s eyes flicker down to my lips, his forehead creasing.
‘You… you should get Byron out of the rain,’ he says, holding out the reins.
I nod, taking them from him.
Mateo starts striding back towards the stable and I traipse through the rain behind, my mind set on one day getting back up in the saddle.
Eight
Two days later, I witness my first polo match. I feel like a spare part in the lead-up to it, constantly dodging out of everyone’s way behind the scenes as they prepare. I wish I could be of more help. I’ve learnt a lot the last couple of days though, spending long hours cleaning tack, brushing down and feeding the ponies, and shovelling a lot of horse muck. I’m fast becoming an expert at manoeuvring a heavy wheelbarrow. The work is exhausting and I can barely function when I get home in the late evenings, flopping flat onto my bed, hardly able to budge, but I’ve liked working around the ponies and feeling like I’m part of something important, even if I’m at the bottom of the food chain.
I’ve not spent as much time with Serafina as I would have liked, but I’ve visited her in her stables when I’ve been able. She wasn’t all that welcoming to begin with. I was disappointed the first time I swung by and she didn’t even bother lifting her head over the stable door to see me. She just stared at me, as if to say,What are you doing here?
But yesterday, she did let me stroke her nose and pat her neck and I stayed long enough for her to scratch her cheek against me, which felt like a win. Eduardo looks after her but he agreed to let me help. When I asked Jules if I could have a go riding Serafina, she laughed as though I’d said something funny and then noticed my expression and went, ‘Oh, you’re being serious?’ It was a flat-out no. I asked if I could rideanyof the ponies and she pointed out that as a beginner, I couldn’t take one out alone, and none of the grooms had the time to break from work or hang around in the evenings to teach me.
I tried not to let the disappointment get me down, but it does feel useless being a groom that can’t ride. The main perk of this job is riding the ponies to exercise them. At least Jules is a little more welcoming. I think she’s secretly enjoying teaching me the ropes – when you’re passionate about something, it can be fun to talk about it. So maybe soon, once she and the other grooms have got used to me and I’ve earned my dues, someone will take the time to give me a lesson.
‘Hey, Ash, can you take these to Eduardo?’ Jules asks the day of the polo match, passing over the saddle mats she’s awkwardly carrying in one hand.
I jump to attention, happy to get involved and taking the mats with gusto. Knowing that Eduardo will be in the pony lines near the polo field, I set off in that direction. As I watch the other grooms busying themselves around the estate, I’m reminded of the lead-up to a fashion event. The stress levels are high, but you get a thrill from the buzz of the anticipation.
Hurrying along the long rows of ponies tied together near the polo field – each player uses six to eight ponies permatch and the team needs reserves, too – I look for Eduardo somewhere amongst them and almost walk straight into Mateo as he emerges from behind Byron. We both come to a sudden halt.
‘Shit, sorry!’ I say, juggling the mats as they almost slip from my grasp.
‘It’s okay.’ He steps back and gestures for me to go ahead.
I scurry past him. ‘Thanks.’
