The mildly interesting context of polo
Polo. To us Brits, it irrevocably conjures up one singular adjective: ‘posh’. A game of the upper classes and merry gentry, confined to gladed estates, blue constituencies, and cries of tally-ho. Yet, as an obscure source known as Encyclopedia Britannica tells me, its actual origin stems from a game played by the Persian Empire’s cavalry.
From there, the game was introduced to India upon Muslim conquest in the 13th century, taken up by its inhabitants, and then introduced to the British. And much like spices, tea, and classism, the British refined it and spread it across the world, where it is now a sport played in 77 countries.
Was this context particularly relevant? No, but it does raise an interesting question about whether a sport with its source in Asia but associated with Britain — much like myself — can somehow be made more accessible, especially with the classist undertones it has within popular consciousness. This is the question that led me to venture into the Guards Polo Club on 31 May.
Well, not really. After President Harry Trudgeon had told me for four weeks that I might enjoy polo, I finally caved in and bought myself a ticket to UCL Polo Society’s trip to Guards Polo Club, an event which sold out in a day.
You see, while you wiled your time away in Scala, I was studying my polo stick (no, not like that):
Polo is a game played on a grassy pitch roughly 9 times the size of a football pitch, between two horse-mounted teams of four. Over the course of 7-minute intervals, known as chukkers (the average English game is about 6 chukkers), each team tries to hit a ball with long mallets in between the opposing teams’ goal posts. I felt that to understand this sport, I had to understand the people who watched it.
A posh new world?
Hoping to fit in with the crowd, I made the necessary preparations. I bought a Tesco Premium Meal Deal and wore a polo t-shirt. Yet arriving at the Brunswick Centre for 7am, I realise my attempts to understand this mysterious tribe and their customs were at an impasse. Not only was I severely underdressed (with the other 21 people wearing dresses and suits), but most people were eating Gail’s for breakfast. I think I was last in a Gail’s when I was 5, and now I have a gilet growing out of my skin.
The schedule for the day promised matches between Eton and Harrow and Oxford and Cambridge, as well as between ‘Pony Club Pink’ and ‘Pony Club Blue’. Yes, Chappell Roan fans, I really did go to see the Pink Pony Club at 9 in the morning.
As the coach took a suitably posh route through Kensington and Chelsea and into Berkshire, we passed the Caviar House, The Ritz and Saint James’ Park. I was struck by how I felt both in line with these people and an outlier. Here was talk of dressage and turning down an invitation to the Royal Ascot to go to Guards. I felt like the only one not interconnected to a web of life that seemed so far away from my own. At this rate, I might have to bid an Irish goodbye and Get Out. Oh well, I thought, sipping on my Frijj and looking at a homeless tent with a hookah pipe attached. The worst that could happen was a few drunken comments asking, “Where are you really from?”
We arrived at 9am at Great Park (which is a bit of a presumptuous title) and passed through black steel gates into a lush environment of well-tended grounds. Another thing struck me: just how British this place was. Yes, this was a place which truly embodied the Union Jack’s colours to me. Red, for the faces of the un-sunscreened; white, for what I presumed many of the guests looked like; and blue, for how most of the staff probably felt after they got back their paychecks.
The mildly interesting context of UCL Polo Society
Stepping off the bus, I asked Ryan Moghareh (the society’s Welfare Officer) and Hector Ribeire (captain of the polo team) how they had joined the society.
Both had been previously interested in polo and followed the UoL team. Upon finding out it was defunct for the last 10 years, Harry had contacted them on Instagram and from there, their polo careers at UCL had grown. Both were impressed with how well Harry had organised the club in his first year of university, and a turnout of 22 people at a ticketed event? Pretty impressive too. In the president’s own words, “For a club that didn’t exist 9 months ago, we’ve done pretty well.”
Events of the day
The first match we watched commenced between Eton College and Harrow School, and, admittedly, my interest was hooked as often as the ball was by the players. Ulysses Hu (Harrow) and Ramon Pepa (Eton) were the top players of this fast-paced match (there’s a Classics joke to be made there somewhere), with Huan Yan scoring the first goal and by the end of the first chukker, Harrow was up 1.5-2.
By half-time (the equivalent of two chukkers past), Harrow was in the lead and by the end of the match, had beaten Eton (haha, geddit?) by 3.5-2. On any level, it’s incredibly impressive for a team of under-18s. That’s right: the top players in this polo match were both Year 9s. In Year 9, I think I was in lockdown pretending to work while I played Fortnite, along with trying to remove that damn gilet off my skin. In the end, the better GCSE student won.
The second match of the day between Oxford and Cambridge University, was where the game slowed from a gallop (haha, geddit?) to an absolute crawl. The more experienced watchers seemed to agree with me: Cambridge “have fallen off a cliff”, according to one. Suddenly, polo became almost as boring as chess; but with more horses and less cheating anal beads. You know it’s bad when Oxford’s own fans were asked to clap, with Oxford eventually winning by 5-2. The quality of the match was so poor that one watcher lamented that “I’m glad I’m an Oxbridge reject; otherwise, I’d have to play in this.”
We then walked over to the Queens’ Ground and watched the winning teams receive their trophies. Unfortunately, I cannot share any images at this time, as my picture was so good that the camera blew up and died.
The final match, between La Magdalene and White Crane, was described beforehand to me by a fellow guest as ‘some of the best polo you can see’ and from there, things definitely picked up again. For one thing, one of the best players of the sport, Polito Pietros — dubbed the Pogba of Polo by me (haha, ge—oh, never mind) — was on the team.
Moreover, this was a Queen’s Cup match, watched by over 20,000 people and was a whopping 22-goal match as opposed to 8 goals. The stakes were obviously far higher, especially since the crowd remembered to clap this time. As the scores rapidly totted up — 11-4 by the fourth chukka, 12-7 for the fifth — it concluded at the sixth chukka of 13-8.
As we retired to the bar and the incredibly fitting song ‘Gangsta’s Paradise’ wafted out of the speakers at the close, I reflected how, all in all, the day hadn’t been too bad. I even got a little free wine out of it.
Conclusions: Good show, old chap
Polo is a legitimately enjoyable sport, and I wasn’t even paid to say that. While I did have many preconceived notions and fears about polo and the type of people I thought would be there (which I’ve exploited for the sake of shitty jokes in this piece), the atmosphere was genuinely welcoming and the day definitively enjoyable.
The foundation and progress of UCL Polo Society is also genuinely impressive.
Despite being only founded in October of last year, they’ve already organised a trip to San Maritz among 8 events (excluding Polo lessons). And their successes are likely to continue beyond the end of the academic year too, as Ivy League teams from America crossed the pond in July to compete with them. Harry even hopes to plan a polo competition between the polo teams of KCL, LSE, Imperial and UCL in 2026, although further details are pending.
Polo also is a sport that isn’t exclusively tied to background. While watching the Eton and Harrow match, I spoke to Mickey, a friend of Harry’s, who told me that in the Czech Republic, polo is simply one of many sports you can watch, rather than just purely confined to the upper classes. The committee and audience are a diverse one too, and the fact is, anyone could watch a polo match at Guards’ Polo Club, provided you pay the £10 parking fee.
Moreover, Harry (who has described his leadership style as ‘relaxed’ when asked) has a genuine desire to expand the society to those from different backgrounds. Next year, he hopes to affiliate the society with Power of Polo, a charity which aims to help the disadvantaged by providing them with access to “charities, polo clubs and other relevant organisations, building programmes to help and support people from a range of backgrounds to change their lines – and their lives”.
Harry Trudgeon, when asked about the wider effect UCL Polo Club could have, said, “If we can get just 50 people over the next three years who haven’t thought about polo or had the opportunity to play polo, to…take part and get involved, then that means across the entire country, that’s 2% of all polo players nationally.” The effect his society could have on a global sport is one that he described as “a genuine privilege”.
Perhaps you still feel that there’s too much of a paradox between the snootiness of the sport and the sociability of the people I’ve described. If so, there’s not much more I can say to you. All I can say, though, is that you can always go and see for yourself in the new year.
UCL’s Polo Society can be found at the Students’ Union website.
