Polo Under Pressue

In one more example of how wonderful everyone has been about this whole job loss situation, when the woman who normally organizes my polo tournaments texted me to ask if I'd be interested in playing this weekend, I told her that I couldn't due to my recent redundancy. I need to be watching my pennies, after all! Yet then she wrote back and told me to come up and play anyway, completely for free. As she said, "I've been there myself, and what you need right more than anything right now is to be galloping around on a pony and whacking a ball around the field."

How sweet is that? And this is why I always take umbrage with people who talk about how snobby and exclusive my polo crowd is, because in truth they are some of the nicest, kindest, most wonderful people I've ever had the privelge of knowing. I swear, too many people have too many pre-conceived notions about what polo is, it's really just a bunch of wonderfully nice people who love horses and risking their necks.

So I made my way up to the polo fields, where I got on my first pony, and galloped off to play. It was a good game, incredibly evenly matched, as the score kept going back and forth for the entire game. I didn't play my best, but I didn't play my worst either, so I guess on the whole it was a good game. In large part, I was battling the exhaustion that comes from my body getting sick (the stress has finally overwhelmed my immune system), so to play decently I suppose was a good thing.

Although at one point, I remember just galloping out on the field on my pony, just a nice, rolling gallop, and I closed my eyes and just flowed with the rhythm and the wind as we loped along. And you see, I've been riding for so long, that even when galloping, I don't come out of the saddle, I just move right along with the horse's movement so that it's like we're one thing. And I just loved that, losing myself to the rhythm, the gentle meditation of being out there in the sunshine on a horse. No wonder Kim thought this is exactly what I needed.

Admittedly, in one more sign of how my brain seems to be taking a total vacation these days, when I needed to speak Spanish to the grooms to translate for all the players who don't speak Spanish (something I do regularly), I was surprised at how many words I couldn't come up with. It was like, "Hello, brain? You do know how to speak Spanish, don't you?"

The game was so evenly matched, that it ended in a tie score. Now, we needed to have a winner so we knew who moved on to battle for first place the next day, so it was decided that the game would be settled by a sudden-death penalty shoot-out.

I was the first one to go, and so gallopped my pony around in a circle, trying to be all cool and calm and sports-psychology-style "cool under pressure". But this is what was going through my head as I approached the ball.

"Stay cool...focus...keep your eye on the ball...visualize it going into the goal...focus...don't miss...get ready...GET YOUR STICK UP...SWING WITH ENOUGH POWER...FOCUS..OHMYGODMAKESUREYOUDON'TMISS..HITITHARDENOUGHTOGETTOTHEGOAL...FOCUSFOCUSFOCUSFOCUSFOCUSFOCUS!!!!!!!!!"

Holy crap, it was like watching my brain crack right in front of me. I guess it's true what they say about how the upper levels of sport, the Tiger Woods of the world, are successful less based on sheer ability and talent, but the simple ability to stay cool under pressure and block everything else out. It was like the loss of my job, my illness, and the stress of the game all conspired and dumped on me at the same time. The ball went wide of the goal, and we lost the game.

Still, it was a good day out to play, even if we didn't win the day! I ended up sitting around having beers with a few people (what is it about beer on a hot day after polo that is always the perfect thing?), and then eventually got a lift back to the train station to head home.

As I sat on the platform, waiting for the train to go home, I happened to remember that it was my ex's birthday today. Now, I haven't spoken to my ex since last February, haven't seen him in almost a year. But I was so pleased with myself for remembering that it was his birthday, that I decided to text him a happy birthday message right then. To my surprise, he texted back right away, thanking me, asking if I were well, and noting that he'd just woken up because he was working nights all weekend. What a funny reminder of how unsuitable we were after all, him the workaholic who can't even manage to have fun on his birthday, and me, the person who had just spent the day out playing with ponies.

I warned myself that I shouldn't text again, and just leave it at that, but then a few minutes later, violated my own rule and made a joke about how I was sure the nurses would make him a cake at the hospital that evening. Got no further response, and was then berating myself for letting the balance of power shift back to him. After all, I'd just been texting to prove that I was a nice and decent human being who remembers birthdays, not that I have any further interest in him. But here I'd gone and screwed it up.

And so just when I'm feeling a bit stupid and dumb, my phone rings: It's my friend Joel. Oh my goodness, of all my favourite people in the world to call right then, there could have been no better choice than Joel. Joel is the only person in the world who can make me laugh nearly as much as my brother, who always makes me feel terribly witty, who I never have tremendously serious conversations with, but ones where every line is a joke making me laugh my head off.

He was just calling to catch up, so I told him all the news about my redundancy, and he offered his sympathies and had me laughing in no time, before we finally signed off with plans to catch up soon. Joel is always my proof that the universe is a good and wonderful place, in that they sent me a friend who makes me laugh as much as Joel, and who always seems to know when to call.

And then I got a text from Marco (the guy from the Tube). I'd texted him on Friday to apologize for being so lame, and explain about my redundancy (which I think gives me a free pass on everything in life, particularly when it comes to having to deal with the thorny issue of boys I'm not quite sure I'm into). How gracious and sweet of him to write, eh? One more reason to remember that silly ex-boyfriends who don't even talk to me any more are nothing to be concerned about, that it's the boys who DO keep in touch are the ones worth your attention.

Then made plans to meet my gay friend Rob for dinner tomorrow night, and went home to watch the movie "Milk". Outstanding film, it made me cry. Although just once again reminded me that whatever my problems are, they're nothing compared to what some people face. (It's hard enough to find nice boys when you're straight, imagine having your potential dating pool reduced to just 10% of the population?) Yeah, my problems aren't that big after all...