Po-lo and Behold!

Alex Beckett Reviews the Annual St Andrews Charity Polo Tournament

Yet another of the innumerable St Andrean social events that my first-year self would have categorically never attended, Polo’s tried-and-tested combination of horses, alcohol, and spring cheer is as unique as it is intriguing. To the uninitiated — which is to say, to the vast majority of the population — spending considerable sums of money to watch a sport of which one knows the rules about as well as seagulls know table manners appears bonkers.

So, that being said, what’s all the fuss about, and — perhaps more importantly — was this year’s rendition of a veritable pillar of the social calendar worth it?

Polo, supposedly one of the oldest team sports in the world, crystallised into the form we know today in 19th-century India. The game is played over a set of seven-minute time periods, known as ‘Chukkas’, and (to me at least) effectively resembles field hockey on horseback. One’s objective is to take the relatively minute ball and guide it with an equally skinny poker through the opponent’s goalposts. Naturally much easier said than done, even the novice spectator can discern that the game’s skill floor — i.e., the ability you need to be able to participate even casually — is singularly elevated.

The above information, however, will certainly be news to 99 percent of the event’s attendees.

The event’s marketing campaign ostentatiously flaunted its boozy credentials; guests’ intentions matched accordingly, and one could observe myriad visitors whose ratio of alcohol and tobacco consumption to Polo observation was precisely 100 to zero. Tickets to all sections included a free drink, or drinks, of some description, and I’m in no doubt that those drinks were claimed and then some. Personally, I revelled in this immoderate consumption for the fact that I was much more interested in the slipping and sliding of my tweed-sporting entourage than I was in the to-ing and fro-ing of our four-legged friends. The Gü pud-like consistency of the trampled earth made the former all the funnier: albeit my faculty for pity went into overdrive vis-à-vis those individuals who had opted for high heels over the girded wellington boot.

The ‘elephant on the field’, however, was the markedly divided nature of the event’s three sections. Classic tickets cost attendees £40 each, which — given the length of the bus journey, the complimentary drink, and the opportunity to spectate — seemed quite fair to me, especially given that it was a charitable event. The Derby (formerly ‘VIP’) ticket cost £65, included three complimentary drinks, enabled access to better facilities, and boasted the most spacious of the three zones. Finally, the Garden Party ticket (which was selective and cost £80) served as an access-all-areas laissez-passer with which one received a complimentary bottle of wine and finger-food sustenance.

To clarify, the pricing made total sense for what one received, and I have absolutely no issue with those paying unequal amounts correspondingly receiving unequal goods — that’s life — but I did feel my strings of sympathy plucked for those who may not have realised in advance the sizeable difference between each ticket’s respective privileges.

Admittedly, such a critique applies to a concept so fundamental to the event — since, by necessity, it has always been arranged in such a fashion — that it feels somewhat moot to make it. The organisers must deal with the framework that they’ve inherited and, I have to say, this year’s committee seemed to play a blinder: aided by the opportune glow of an uncharacteristically enthusiastic Scottish spring sun.

Whilst expectations were high, as were participant numbers, I struggled to discern any organisational faults. Promises made were promises kept: space was sufficient, there were ample quantities of food and alcohol in spite of robust demand, and — the clincher — the inbound and outbound buses ran faultlessly, which one must never take for granted at St Andrews events.

My organisational plaudits were well-captured in the words of Aife Sansom, a member of the operations and logistics team, who told me, “The team is what made it really special; we work really hard all year in order to make it a great event for everyone at St Andrews”. Such is the point on which I close. If you wish to experience the novelty of this second-semester staple, if you have a decent group of friends who have managed to secure a Garden Party spot, or if you are simply obsessed by the thought of horses on the gallop, then I would commend Polo to you; if none of the above apply, then mull it over, but certainly don’t rule it out.

Photos: Amelia Perry