Hockey on Horses

You know, if they don't stop soon, they'll run into the camera...

We investigated the Championship Open of polo at the eerily anachronistic Hurlingham Club on Saturday and, as expected, it qualified as curious, fun, interesting and, okay, a little weird. For one thing, it was oddly reminiscent of Hockey on Horses--there were the balls flying into the crowd like pucks, the checking (above), the referees who travel via the same odd mode of transport as the players (skates: horse) save for being without the sport's weapon of choice (stick: mallet). We'll now spike the heart of the strained metaphor ("Thank God!" you're saying, and we agree) to point out the simultaneous wild differences and extreme upper-crusty Englishness of it all. There was, for example, an extreme lack of brawling fans, hooliganism or chanted jeers about the opposing players' sexuality. There were straw hats. There were PR girls handing out Massachusetts Tourism bags (huh?). There were tons of tight-wound, sinewy, veiny horses--the equine version of Iggy Pop--being prepared on the sidelines. There were plenty of chubby thighs and red, beery faces further chubbying and reddening themselves on sun and liquor. And, unlike most places in Argentina, there was plenty of wandering about while drinking deeply of bottled beer. No malbec, no wine glasses, no "Do you have some agua con gas I could cut this with?" Where were we? A piece of 1930's England, age-stilled in a droplet of amber, that had been shipped to Argentina to be tarted up with Spanish and then there had been left behind.

"Where'd I drop my ring?" No, seriously, they're policing divots between periods.

Ian captured the quiet match well (above). I just have one observation & nagging question to add:
In preparation for this polo match I ventured into the newspapers' massive sports sections. I must admit, I had to read and re-read La Nacion, Clarin and even the Buenos Aires Herald before I truly understood a curious thing. The favorite and Saturday's winner, Ellerstina, was composed of four players: two sets of brothers who were cousins of each other. The underdog team, La Aguada, was composed of an even higher poker-hand of sorts: all four players were brothers--with two last names, emphasizing their relatedness. I have no idea if this is the norm. Are polo players bred like ponies?