So one nice September afternoon, we drove out to Where the Hell Am I?, VA and took our polo lesson.
There were 6 of us in the class and only one other guy for poor DTM to hang with. He totally got talked into it by his wife as well, I am sure of it. Before we got to the actual horse part, we spent some time on the ground practicing hitting the polo balls.
|Gabi (in white) teaching us how to play.|
|They were unamused.|
We all mounted our rides and rode around the ring for a bit to get a feel for what we needed to do. Then we were given the polo sticks and hit some polo balls around. They looked like little baby soccer balls. And they were hard to hit. It wasn't exactly like the horses went galloping by them or anything. It was just you had to lean over to aim at and hit them and, even though I had my trusty bike helmet on, I just wasn't confident that I wasn't going to fall off and get trampled.
After some practice we scrimmaged. It looked a lot like this:
|He was excellent. I was absolutely not.|
Out team "won" the scrimmage. Here we are in all our victorious glory:
|Ah, the things I talk him into.|