Harvard Polo Is Reborn With Myopia Club's Aid

Polo, once exclusively the game of the very rich, can be any man's game at Harvard.

The newly-formed Harvard Polo Club, which numbers about a dozen enthusiasts, manages on a miniscule budget--a far cry from the Polo Clubs of the past. Gone are the days when young men would arrive at Harvard with strings of four or more polo ponies. The club now faces the grim spectre of poverty.

Myopia

The Myopia Hunt Club aided the club when it began practicing this fall, providing ponies and a playing field. When the club moved to winter quarters in a small arena in North Andover, it had to scrounge for itself.

The team rented some untrained local horses and attempted to play on them. Faced with the prospect of dodging swinging mallets and each other, the rented ponies panicked. One or two survived several practices before actively resisting, but an alternative had to be found. "Beg, borrow, or steal," said President Hibberd V. B. Kline III '69, an aristocrat in the old tradition.

Rich Texan

It was up to the new rich of Texas to bail out the new poor of New England's finest. Hap Sharp, a Texas sportsman who once raced the Chaparral car for General Motors came to the rescue. In hopes of raising money, the club had sent appeals to various alumni and polo players. Sharp responded with a gift of six ponies. Vince Mulford, another Texan, donated a seventh.

A Start

The club had a start. Conditions at the North Andover headquarters were far from luxurious. Harvard polo players of the past practiced in the Old Boston armory, but an anti-polo faction favored trucks over ponies and paved it. Most of the club members were new to the game, so early practices this winter in the cramped and dust filled hall in Andover were pandemonium.

Coached by Mike Andrews of the Myopia Hunt Club, the team pulled itself together. As riding and hitting skill improved, cries of "Which goal are we hitting for?" and "Who's on my team?" became fewer, and the melees became games.

But falls still occurred with disturbing frequency, as a polo swing requires a player to lean precariously form the saddle. Some of the ponies became notoriously adept at swerving at the crucial instant.

Beer

In an effort to reduce the number of spills, the team borrowed a tradition from Yale--if a player falls during a game, he must buy the team a case of beer.

Injuries to team members so far have been slight, but this gentlemen's sport has had its share of fatalities. When a thousand pounds of horse and rider are accelerating at ten feet per second per second, contact tends to be unpleasant.

No Glamor

The team's ponies and equipment belie polo's glamorous image. Although members try to exercise the animals between practices, a minimum of time is spent on grooming. The ponies are a motley group, but looks aren't everything. One small mare recently proved per gumption by outrunning a large throughbred in a quarter-mile sprint.

The team has found a partial solution to the maintenance problem: Cliffies. At the Cornell game, a contingent of three walked the horses between periods. Some girls even help exercise the ponies, although playing the game still remains an all-male enterprise.

Vernal Urges

Says president Kline, "All girls are horse-crazy at some point in their lives. Any who have the vernal urge are welcome to come help us with spring cleaning."