I have not been playing much polo for the past 3 months. I made up a bunch of excuses as to why I was going to be taking a break. Excuses. Tell me the last time an excuse was the whole truth… Quite simply my life was getting out of balance, and setting polo aside for a season was one of the more easy steps toward restoring balance. I let life trump polo. You say life IS polo. I say it is not.
About a week ago I made my return to the polo court, cracking the door for polo to ooze back in. It was a chilly starlit Wednesday night of pickup with Lancaster United. Present at pickup were the perfect number of players, 8, putting 6 on the court and two on the bench imbibing and heckling to stay warm. Our main court doesn’t have lights so Yeager and Hollenbach faithfully haul our club-purchased generator, stadium lights, and miles of extension cords to the court every week. The Lancaster United club is nothin’ if not ambitious.
After a couple hours of play our genny starts to misbehave, ceasing to send power to five of the six stadium lights, bringing play to an abrupt end for everyone but Gene. Gene doesn’t know or care about danger. Shortly later, poof, out goes the final stadium light. Now you city-slickers may not know this, but it is damn dark out in the sticks of Lancaster County when your genny ceases gennying.
Seconds after the final light is extinguished the ball smacks a board somewhere in the darkness and comes to a rest. Polo is done. While Yeager attends to the genny, applying his bicycle mechanic wizardry to internal combustion, the rest of us mill about aimlessly until someone happens to look up.
Sabrina discovers a new constellation, The Mini Dipper.
Perspective is gained.
Minutes later Yeager has MacGyvered the lights back on and it is back to the polo court, picking up where we left off. Having completely forgotten the score, we resume play at 3-3 because really, polo is about so many more things than winning.
God I missed it.
A Post By Trace Oberholtzer