I love Ed the naughty pony
OK EN, we had a minor break in normal broadcasting with two massive weeks on EN. We had planned to run this as a follow up to the book review and Most Embarrassing Stories part one. We have consulted the Chinchilla judging panel and decided to open the competition up for a few more days. It gives me the full opportunity to share the embarrassment of the whole EN Team. The new closing date for the competition is this Sunday 18th September.
We start with a hilarious story from Samantha, thankfully it ended well. To win your copy of Stories from the Saddle send us your most embarrassing story from an event, in or out of the saddle. The finalists will be selected by myself and the EN Chinchillas, you will then get to vote for the winners. Send you entries in by email ONLY to [email protected], entries close on September 18.
Samantha Clark
I spent several years in my early twenties based with Alison Oliver, and they were among the best in my life. I lived above the stables, trained with Alison every day and became one of the family. Highlights included meeting and watching all the amazing people who passed through the yard to benefit from Alison’s wisdom while I was there, riding all sorts of horses, especially the ex-Mark Todd ride and then Korean Olympic team horse Peppermint Park (dreamy!), but most of all, I loved Chris and Toni Oliver, Alison’s children, like my own younger brother and sister.
Toni often traveled to events at weekends with me, and was great company, a few years younger, but like a best friend. This particular weekend, I think I had ridden one or two at an event a few hours away, then we had walked the course for the next day, Toni and I were going to drive home and swap horses before returning the following morning, and Alison was going to stay overnight with a friend nearby.
Alison had a little Norfolk Terrier, Shortie, who was quite spoilt and the apple of her eye, and we promised Alison we would take her home with us and look after her too, the most serious responsibility I’d ever been charged with! Well, we finished walking the course, loaded up the horses who’d been tied to the side of the lorry (as is completely normal in England! ), said goodbye to everyone around us, and started driving out the field that was the lorry park, chatting away, slowly obviously because it was grass and quite rutted.
Leslie Law is waving and waving, so we’re smiling and waving back, but now he’s waving his whole arms and shouting, and we wave back some more, then he’s jumping up and down as if he’s trying to stop an oncoming train, so finally we stop and wind down the windows, and he’s pointing at the front of the lorry, “Sam, the DOG!”….. Shortie is still tied to the front of the lorry. Oh My God.Toni and I stare at each other in dead silence, then each jump out of our respective side of the lorry.
Thankfully, mercifully, luckily, somehow, Shortie is fine, just out of breath, she just had more exercise across one field than she normally does in a week. My heart too, is pounding faster than it does in the start box for any advanced three day, and Leslie, now that we know the dog is ok, is pissing himself laughing! Toni tells me, “Sam, we must NEVER EVER tell Mum what just happened. She loves this dog more than me.”
We never did tell Alison, I was extra nice to Shortie all weekend. I don’t know if Alison reads Eventing Nation, but perhaps I’ll find out soon enough! I know that Leslie does, and he’s probably forgotten all about that , but will no doubt have a giggle when he remembers. I hardly ever talk about it, it’s certainly not one of my proudest moments, but ESJ seems to be able to get all sorts of incriminating evidence out of me! I promise that no other animals were hurt in the telling of this story, and that most of the time I’m an extremely responsible dog owner, just a rather forgetful one!
Abbie Golden
My most embarrassing moment was at Young Riders in 2008 when I was
grooming for my best friend. I was riding a dirt bike and I was holding
packets that I had just picked up from the office. At Young Riders
they fence off the barns and there is usually a long line of people,
golf carts, and horses to get in.
When I rode up it was mostly horses so I cut around the left side and
attempted to drive through and wave my wristband at the official. I
should also mention that the dirt bike was low on gas and would stall
out if you stopped forward momentum, which is why I didn’t just wait in
line. Unfortunately I realized too late that I wouldn’t be able to fit
through the gate and tried to brake and stop.
Another feature of these bikes is the close proximity of the brake and
accelerator. Naturally as I hit the break I also gunned the engine,
causing the bike to shoot out from under me and go straight in the air
(and the chain link fence) while I was still holding the handles. It
took several seconds of shock and awe for me to realize that I was still
holding the accelerator and that I had knocked back the portable fence a
good ten feet.
Finally I dropped the bike and looked around to see about thirty people
STARING and hear the official get on his radio about a “situation” at
the barn entrance. I tried to hurry away as quickly as possible
(walking the now dormant bike) and to add insult to injury it wouldn’t
budge because it was still in gear. A nice observer pointed this out
and I got out of there as quickly as possible…and changed shirts so
that no one would recognize me.
Annie Yeager
Looking back, my Eventing career thus far has had its fair share of embarrassment, especially when it comes eliminations at events. I had a less-than-brilliant and seriously embarrassing introduction to the sport when, at my very first event, I got eliminated in the start box as my pony wouldn’t move his feet 3 inches past the box’s perimeters once the starter said ‘Go!’ despite all the flailing, kicking, and vocal persuasion I could muster as a twelve year old.
It was a scarring experience but I got past it, and although I’ve been eliminated at plenty of events since then, at least it hasn’t been for that reason. Then there was time, fast forward a few years, where I got eliminated at a show for having three errors in basically the first three movements of my dressage test. That one was pretty hard to face up to my coach about.
There was that time I got lost in the woods on the cross country course and kept galloping back and forth between two gallop paths (neither of which was anywhere close to where I was actually supposed to be) looking for my jump, and eventually they pulled me off the course for reaching the time limit. The best piece of advice I’ve ever gotten about Eventing is that “There is always another way to get eliminated!’
Last but not least, the Big Kahuna of Eventing Nation , John Their
My most embarrassing moment fit for print is probably at Jersey in ’03 or ’04. I was 15 years young, doing my first two-star and felt like pretty hot stuff. I was riding an ex-racehorse and the love of my life named Roly, a name that I would earn for myself at Jersey. We had done three intermediates that spring to qualify, all clear, including a tough track at Poplar. This was back in the day of the long format, so we got Roly super fit and headed off to New Jersey to find our fortune. Our dressage test was let’s just say a bit forward and should have suggested to me that I was in for a bit of a surprise on Saturday, but I can be stubborn in my optimism.
Phase A went as planned, but the steeplechase must have aroused Roly’s old racing instincts because we finished at an all-out gallop and without any breaks to speak of. Again, perhaps I should have taken the hint but part of me thought the rising heat would take the edge off Roly by the time D started. We left the start box at a slightly more controlled pace than steeple chase, but we were still up on the first minute by 10 seconds and I still wasn’t having very good success half halting.
About half-way around the course we were still clear and we jumped into water complex in the middle of the big Jersey field still full of run. I got us off our line slightly to the next jump, a duck in the middle of the water. I will never forget the feeling of my knee hitting that damn duck’s head in the air. I lost my stirrup which Roly took as a signal to return to steeple chase speed as I clung to his side.
What happened next is a matter of some debate with some accounts having been embellished more than others. But, sticking to the firm facts, I ended up on the ground rolling for about 20 feet and then Roly galloped through several galloping lanes before pulling up miraculously unhurt. The event was postponed for 20 minutes while the galloping lanes were put back in place and I, furious at myself and the world, retrieved my now quite satisfied horse. I don’t know who was on course behind me, but they have my endless apologies.
The event’s safety supervisor, Rusty, still heckles me about the trouble I made for him and the Jersey crew that day. But my horse and I lived to fight another day and I learned a valuable lesson about the difference between feeling ready and being ready.
So there you have it guys, the EN Team have laid themselves bare for you, to win your copy of Stories from the saddle, send your most embarrassing story to [email protected] by September 14 to be in the running.
Yours in Eventing,
ESJ
