Yes, Chinch made the trip, and yes, the Brits are tired of humoring me at this point.
My first Olympic Games as an accredited journalist was in Tokyo, which had been postponed to 2021 due to the COVID-19 pandemic. It was a wild experience, and one I’m sure (and I hope) will never be repeated. In Tokyo, we were required to fill out to-the-minute schedules for ourselves, and weren’t allowed to deviate from that plan with the consequence of getting kicked out of the country if we did. We were whisked from point A to point B in private taxis reserved by the Olympic committee so we didn’t have to intermingle on public transportation. We were required to submit multiple COVID tests every other day to prove we weren’t carrying the sickness with us.
I think it’s safe to say that the Tokyo Olympics prepared me for Paris in more ways than one.
The best part of any event: seeing my people. Pictured: Shannon Brinkman, Kimberly Loushin, Roya Brinkman, and Tilly Berendt. Photo by Sally Spickard.
In preparation for Tokyo, I created a binder full of the COVID requirements, transportation guidelines, and everything else I could possibly need to ensure I could safely enter the country and do my job. At the airport, the check-in and validation process (which also involved COVID testing) took well over three hours, all conducted in a closed terminal that was eerily hushed and free of public travelers.
I look back on that Games and feel wistful. We drove through many neighborhoods I would have loved to stop and explore, being a person who loves to get the “full experience” of what it would be like to live in the city I’m in. I wanted to experience the public transport, the shopping, the FOOD, but alas it was not meant to be.
Before I knew it, it was time for Paris.
A real “made it” moment! Photo by Kimberly Loushin.
As much as I’d like to say I was just as prepared for this trip, the absence of COVID protocol made me feel a little more laissez-faire about the whole affair (or maybe I was just really getting my French on, subconsciously). This meant that two days before I was to leave, I had a mild panic — I had done very little research, hadn’t explored what I’d like to see in Paris, hadn’t learned a lick of French. The fact that I would, this year, be accompanied by Tilly Berendt, who spent some time living in Paris a few years ago, perhaps lulled me into a sense of security that I’d have someone with me who was familiar with the lay of the land.
Peter Wylde’s surprise at getting roped into a Chinch pic, when really he should expect nothing less. Photo by Tilly Berendt.
But really, nothing could prepare me for the venue here in Versailles. It was gutting to see the stadiums and cross country fields in Tokyo devoid of humans, and all the same it was incredible to see just how many people crammed themselves into the seats and along the galloping lanes during the eventing, which was the first equestrian sport to see in these Games.
The eventing portion of the Olympics in Paris left me with many distinct memories, but here are a few of the top ones:
Bring in the crowds
As we filed in for the cross country on Sunday (which was odd in itself, as I’m accustomed to going to a horse inspection on Sundays of events), I was taken aback by the sheer number of people waiting to get in to the venue. While the mixed zone was situated between the vet box and the rider tent, meaning I couldn’t really see the crowds on course, I didn’t miss them. The CHEERS. The SCREAMS. You could tell as soon as a French rider left the startbox, and could pinpoint their location on course simply by hearing the wave of roars from the crowds following them around.
Alexander Peternell (RSA) and his wife, Suze, celebrate a big Olympic weekend with their new biggest fan (me).
I laugh when I think about Alex Peternell, our individual rider from South Africa, recounting his experience on course. “Everyone was cheering ‘allez! ALLEZ! ALLEZ!’ and I was like ‘I’m going slow!'”, and every rider who came through to talk to us after their ride was on the ultimate adrenaline high, further underscored by the adoring fans. Boyd Martin put it best when he said he would never forget the experience for the rest of his life.
And how incredible: we always talk about the struggle to attract fans and new followers to our sport. Yes, horses are firmly entrenched in French culture, more so than we’d find in America outside of horse racing (which has its own demons to contend with these days), but I have to think that more than one person caught the eventing bug this weekend.
A big win for Asia
My favorite pin from the week, courtesy of Kazuma Tomoto.
I wrote at length after Tokyo about the personal significance of representation, underscored by a history number of teams from Asian countries in eventing there. This year, we had fewer: a team from Japan and two individuals from China. But the success we saw from Japan in particular will live in my memory forever.
Here was a team that missed out on a medal during their home Games, and nearly didn’t make it to Paris due to initially missing out on qualification. But they banded together — and remember, the Japanese riders (and the Chinese riders) all had to leave their home countries in order to find the opportunity train and compete for the world stage, primarily basing themselves in the UK — and made a goal: Paris or bust.
The bronze medal Japan signifies a lot more than success on one weekend. It, like all other medals won, is a symbol of the perseverance and sacrifice that is required to see even a modicum of success. I’ll be writing a bigger feature on Japan in the coming weeks, but suffice it to say: this bronze medal meant a lot to me personally, and to the world. I am not Japanese, I am Korean, and yes, Japan and Korea have a complicated (to say the least) historical context, but in terms of representation and seeing riders who look like me — the effect is immeasurable, and I hope it’s the same for other Asian riders around the world.
Under a microscope
Media gathered for the First Horse Inspection (only about 4 of these came back for the Second jog…I see you and your desire to get extra sleep. Photo by Sally Spickard.
This year, more than ever before, all equestrian sports are under an intense microscope. Multiple stories were released in the weeks and days ahead of the Games (and really, are still coming out), which meant on dressage day of eventing we were swarmed with mainstream media outlets hoping for a hot quote in the wake of the Charlotte Dujardin whipping video fallout. More than one unsavory article was published shortly thereafter, clearing not understanding that eventing dressage and dressage are two entirely different sports, but nonetheless highlighting the fact that public favor is, well, quite low in many ways.
Do I disagree? It’s hard for me to say, if I’m being honest. On one hand, I know there exist many people whose horsemanship methods should be exposed and taken accountability for. On the other, I also know just how much goes into what we do, particularly in eventing (which I have the most intimate knowledge of). I also know that saying “I love my horse” doesn’t always translate into a transformation of public opinion.
Does the public hate dog agility? That would be an animal-adjacent sport I’d closely link to eventing in many ways, primarily because of the communication and partnership required to find success. What makes the public favor the agility dogs over the eventing horses? I’ve been asking myself that for awhile, and I’m not sure of the answer.
All of this very rambling stream of consciousness to say: I think it’s vital to communicate just how eager our horses are to participate in this sport willingly. I also think it’s vital to practice what we preach. We should have properly developed toplines. We should have nosebands and saddles that fit properly. We should always be educating ourselves on horses’ biomechanics and anatomical structure so we can understand how to support their bodies. We should be prioritizing their mental health, choosing our training and competition schedule with this forefront in our minds. We should be honest with ourselves in our readiness to move up a level or continue to compete as a horse ages.
Julia Krajewski stops by the mixed zone after cross country. Photo by Sally Spickard.
Public opinion is always going to be volatile. One bad incident can set off a chain of events that will lead us down a path that no longer includes Olympics or mainstream sponsors. We need to be conscious and self-aware of these things, because it’s not going to change.
We can always do better. We can always be advocates for our horse. We can always work to cultivate self-awareness, even when it bruises our egos.
From Paris, over and out (well, at least until the show jumpers start their week tomorrow — I’ll be writing about that over on Practical Horseman, so catch me over there!), and always, always, always, Go Eventing.
