Playing Polo with the Cowboy

Polo Ponies at El Montenegro with their trademark shaven manes.

She placed a rather innocuous ad on Craigslist.com.  “Horses Need Rider”.   I was scoping out the “Pets” section of the craigslist.com site when the ad caught my eye.

I was on an extended vacation in Fort Lauderdale, Florida and missed Jin; my tall, dark, handsome buddy with an easy cantor and sweet disposition.

I sent her a reply. She called.  An hour later, I was pulling up to the farm.  It was in the heart of  Wellington, which I later learned was Polo Country.

She was tall and French.  I guessed that she was a model.  He was Argentinean, just as slim but shorter with dark hair poking out from under his cowboy hat.  They looked perfect for a Ralph Lauren ad.

I greeted her warmly, she countered with a stand-offish coolness that only the French can pull off and still look elegant.

As she was outfitting me with chaps, it suddenly occurred to me that these two could dispose of me in the woods and it would take hours before my husband realized I was gone.  I shook that thought out of my head – acknowledging the crazy things I do for the love of equine and, jumped on the most beautiful thoroughbred I’d seen in a long time.  The fact that he might cost more than my car was not lost on me.

They bantered back and forth in Spanish as we rode down the white sand street.   I caught every other word – regretting yet again that I studied French and not Spanish in high school and college.

I caught them studying me very closely; watching my feet, my seat position, etc. .  In his broken English, The Cowboy reassured me that the horse I was riding was quiet and I’d be okay. But, the horse was new to me and it would take a while for me to trust.



Twenty minutes later we were trotting and galloping in an open field that was supposed to be a housing development; more than 100 acres of would-be equestrian estates. Now, it was just vacant, sandy land with canals crisscrossing through it. The infamous real estate crash had a created an amazing play ground for me.

Before the end of the day, I’d ride two horses in open fields along the canals and they’d gallop three at a time.  The horses (and I) needed exercise.

Fast forward six months.... Turns out The Cowboy trains new polo ponies for a living.  And, he’s a professional polo player.    I ride with him a few times a week.  He broke up with Ms. French though I talk to her once in a while.  Usually just vague plans to someday play in a women's polo tournament.

Since I’ve now moved to Fort Lauderdale, The Cowboy is encouraging me to play polo and I’m seriously considering it.  I’m still working on my coordination and he's pushing me hard to get in shape.

Getting the horses ready to play

Just this week he took eight horses to one of the practice fields.  I rode two horses; one with an affinity for galloping (and only galloping!) and the other couldn't seem to warm up to the idea of turning right (which prompted the cowboy to say "only turn right, this horse").

In polo you race up and down a grassy field, hanging off the side of horse using your mallet to hit a wooden ball through two upright poles at the end of the field.  During the game you play with seven horses – switching them each chukka (7.5 minute increments).  The horses run so hard and fast they tire after just one set.

Polo Practice on one of the many polo fields in Wellington

The tricky part about polo is that you have to adjust quickly to each horse when riding.  Since The Cowboy is constantly buying and selling horses, I never know what horse I will ride, where, or for how long.  I show up with no expectations and receive more joy that I ever could have imagined.
So, if you want to an adventure, just be open to all the possibilities the Universe has to offer.

The Cowboy and Me. Riding on a hot summer day.

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