Shane Winkler pops open a can of Bud Light and stuffs
a wad of Copenhagen into his mouth before turning on the sound
system at the Big Horn Equestrian Center just outside Sheridan in
northern Wyoming. It’s a hot July afternoon. The only shade is in
the top rows of the small set of bleachers and under the opened
hatchbacks of Subarus and the toppers of pickup trucks along the
300-yard sideline of the manicured field. The match is about to
begin, and several white-haired men seated in the bleachers bemoan
the fact that the “beer lady” has not yet arrived.
Horses
are as common as drive-thru liquor stores in this part of Wyoming.
The green hills are dotted with thoroughbreds, and this time of
year you’re likely to see foals standing unsteadily next to their
mothers. Even folks living in cramped apartments in town are likely
to own at least one horse, even though it means paying to board the
animal elsewhere. Ranching runs deep here, and with it another
unlikely tradition – the sport of polo. It might seem surprising
that a sport more commonly associated with the likes of Prince
Charles has roots here, but when you consider the basic
requirements of polo – a good horse and a good rider – those roots
make perfect sense.
The Big Horn equestrian fields are
framed by trophy homes on one side, the state bird farm on another
and wide-open ranch land on yet another. Directly next door to the
Big Horn fields is the Flying H Polo Club, where some of the
greatest players in the world come each summer for what’s called
high-goal polo. Looming over it all are the Big Horn Mountains, or
as the locals call them, “The Mountain.”
“This is called
the lineup,” says Perk Connell, a local polo horse breeder and
trainer who literally grew up on a polo field – her childhood home
was located on the field in Illinois where her father worked. If
you didn’t know otherwise, you might mistake her for a 12-year-old
boy instead of the 54-year-old she is. Her close-cropped blonde
hair is covered with a tattered hat that says “Perk’s Horspital,” a
sort of transitional care center for horses that she runs to
supplement her breeding income.
Eight players and horses line up as best they can, and the umpire
tosses in the ball. Connell knows each player’s name and handicap
and can even add a personal detail or two. She points out her
niece, a father and son and a husband and wife. The polo community
in the tiny town of Big Horn is a close-knit group, but the 45
members of the Big Horn Polo Club make it one of the biggest polo
clubs in the United States.
In addition to being the
oldest club west of the Mississippi, it’s also the cheapest. At
least that’s what Sam Morton says. Morton is the author of a
historical novel about horses and polo in southern Montana and
northern Wyoming. When he’s not writing, Morton is a horse dentist.
He divides his year between Big Horn and Wellington, Fla., another
polo hub.
“I’m kind of like the Forrest Gump of polo,”
Morton says, meaning that polo is one of those things he just
stumbled into that changed the direction of his life. Tall and
lanky, with a hint of his North Carolina upbringing in his voice,
Morton is also one of the reasons that polo in this area continues
from one generation to the next. He teaches a free polo clinic to
anyone with a horse every Saturday evening in the summer.
Horses and riders rumble up and down the field, and the score is
kept on a wooden board perched on top of an old horse-drawn wagon.
Connell curses and cheers under her breath every time a mallet hits
the ball. She still hasn’t decided which team to pull for. Finally,
after the first seven-minute period – called a chukker – the beer
lady shows up with a cooler full of cans and bottles of both
American and imported beer. Bud is by far the preferred drink of
this crowd.
Barefoot kids and dogs run up and down the
fields during the brief breaks between chukkers, and tailgate
classics like Jimmy Buffet’s “Margaritaville” and Alan Jackson’s
“Pop a Top” ring out from the sound system. At halftime, the entire
crowd heads onto the field to stomp divots back into place.
The crowd, usually about 300
people, is a collection of fans of the sport, people in the polo
business, tourists, ranchers and folks who just like horses or have
nothing better to do on a Sunday afternoon. Tommy Wayman, a former
10-goal player and polo Hall-of-Famer, sits on the tailgate of a
white Ford pickup sipping a can of beer. He played for 52 years
before quitting four years ago. “I used to think they couldn’t have
a game if I wasn’t here,” Wayman says, “but they can.”
Wayman moved to this area about 11 years ago for several reasons,
and polo was definitely one of them. “It’s got such a long history
here,” he says. “The cavalry brought it here, and you have to
remember the ranchers who started playing polo on weekends for
recreation.”
The earliest known game of polo played in
the Big Horn area was in 1893. Families with names that are still
famous in the polo community – Moncrieffe, Gallatin, Forbes – moved
in not long after and began polo pony-breeding operations. During
the 1920s, at the height of the game’s popularity, these families
would hold huge horse events and invite Indian chiefs and cowboys,
Morton says.
The polo players in this Wyoming community
today are a mix of descendants from those families. They are also
brokers, psychologists, small-business owners, high school students
and cowboys.
This Sunday’s polo match is a good one. The
score remains close for the entire game. In the last few seconds,
one of the younger players – a teenager – knocks in the winning
goal. Banner Log Homes wins the game 9-8 over D.A. Davidson.
Connell whoops, not for a particular team, but just
because it was a beautiful play made by a promising young player.
Another generation is ready to continue the history of polo at the
foot of the Big Horns.
“This is a fortunate combination
of place, people and talent,” she says.
The
author is a freelance writer who lives in Sheridan,
Wyoming.
This article appeared in the print edition of the magazine with the headline Old West meets Old World in Big Horn.
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