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Getting In
Lauren
London, whose Manhattan public relations firm London Misher represents the event, says she starts looking for sponsors as early as January. "A lot of people call me," she says, but few are chosen as the commitment to a full-day sponsorship costs $50,000 to $60,000. (Every match, including those held mid-week, is open to the public through a general admission fee of $10 per car. Groups can also rent one of 20 tailgating tents for $2,000.)
"It is utterly social," agrees Manhattan publicist Lizzie Grubman. "Every time I walk into a polo match I meet 90 percent of the people I know, from college, high school, business. It's a time to catch up. I run into people I haven't seen in ten years, and it's such a pleasure, not business.
"It's definitely become a Hamptons institution. Everybody goes," she says. "For some people, it's their pivotal moment. It's the place to be seen." It is also, she admits, "a real pick-up place. People leave the beach early and get all dressed up," she says. Unlike many of the spectators, who spend most of their time sipping Champagne and chatting, Grubman looks forward to actually watching the match. "I love the horses. I love the sport. I rode as a child, and when I'm in Palm Beach, I watch it there. I'm not a big sports fan, but to me polo is like an art--the weather is beautiful, it's outside, the horses are gorgeous. It's also something I could never do!"
"There are very few passionate, dedicated spectators," admits Jordan. Walentas agrees: "It's an exciting game to watch, the horses are beautiful, the scene is spectacular, but 90 percent of the spectators have no idea of the rules or the finesse of the game. The field is very large, and it's hard to see what people are doing, or even if a goal has been
scored."
Making Their Way Down the Field
Great polo players, says Jordan, aren't always great equestrians, but athletes with specific skills: passing, positioning, defensive plays, and offensive moves. Each player has an individual rating, like a golfer's handicap. This is determined by the U.S. Polo Association, not, as you might expect, based on the number of goals scored per game or season, but on such skills as positioning and team play.
Walentas calls polo "hockey on horseback." But, as everyone involved cheerfully admits, it's a much tougher sport to understand or follow. Unlike basketball, baseball, or hockey, there are few lines marked on the field to help clarify the action, and most spectators have never played themselves. Not to mention the size of the field: It is equal to nine football fields, comprised of 12.4 acres of lushly-irrigated and maintained grass. One welcoming tradition, at least, requires spectators to come onto the field at halftime to help replace the many divots, the chunks of earth thrown up by the horses' hooves.
Like the players, polo ponies, specially bred for speed, tend to be small and wiry. For both, agility and timing are key. "The horses are 80 percent of the game," explains Hirsch. "The better the pony, the better your chance of winning. You can be the best polo player in the world, but if you're not the first person to get to the ball, you've got no chance."
It's said only two things can separate a polo player from his passion, however: death or poverty. Thankfully, the stakes for spectators aren't quite so high. Come, stamp a divot. |
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