Polo People

When the whistle blows, the team members churn water as they race into formation before the ball is tossed into the pool. Six girls plow their way across the pool, one with the ball safely between her outstretched arms that continue to propel her toward the goalie. They pass the ball, they shoot the ball, they have the ball ripped out of their hands and their suits and caps ripped off their bodies. These are fierce warrior women, some of whom are as young as age 10. Water polo is not for whimps.

I'd been to a few games in the past, but never spent 3 days doing a tournament. We head-quartered at a hotel in Rancho Cucamongo, which is about 75 miles from me, so I commuted and let the older girls use the room I had reserved for the event. I picked up polo players, dropped them off, sat in the noonday sun, and fought off the mosquitoes. Nutrition was a big part of each day as the competitors have to eat well and often, and I'm back to military precision with my eating. Free b'fast with the rooms meant that about 150 swimmers, both male and female, emptied the buffet faster than the cooks could keep up with them. Of course, every athlete comes with an entourage, parents, siblings, g'parents, best friends, so it's a lot of polo people and even more free b'fast.

There were other g'ma's in my age bracket, so I enjoyed sitting with them and doing the "my g'child ..." thing. My sister-in-law stayed close by, too, providing me with both commentary and an explanation of what was going on in the pool. By the end of day 3, I was getting the hang of it and actually following the play in the pool fairly well. The 16-girls battled to a first-place finish, while the 14-girls took a third. Both of their final games were exciting and tough, but also played really well. I congratulated their coaches on the solid coaching job, holding the girls responsible for team play, while encouraging each of them to excel. Some coaches from other teams spent the entire game berating the players in megaphone voices that carried throughout the stadium area. What the girls learn from that approach, I have no idea, but if it were my dotter being excorciated by an adult male for not playing up to his standards, I'd look for another team or another coach.

You can call it coaching, but for me, that verbal harranguing borders on abuse. For the parents, the game is about the girls; for the girls, the game is about the team; for the coach, it's about me, me, me: my team, my players, my win/loss, my rep with the guys at the sports bars.

And, there was Defense Dude, the father of a player who was so loud, so over-the-top, that he interferred with anyone else's ability to enjoy the game. He kept ramping up and ramping up until my head exploded: Dude!!! Chill!!! I yelled at him. He's welcome to verbally support his dotter's team, but not to over-power the enjoyment of the entire crowd of spectators with his constant stream of ranting and raving.

Yeah, he came over to get in my face, but I can hold my own pretty much with anyone, including him. When he kept telling me he was just encouraging his team, I directed him to dial it down a notch. He kept prattling on, but I ignored him, until I finally turned to face him eyeball-to-eyeball and asked him, very quietly, if he has ever asked his 16-year-old daughter how she feels about his outrageous conduct at the games she plays. I said, "I'll bet she's embarrassed and humiliated and doesn't know how to tell you to shut the hell up."

He did dial it down, and made a point of pointing it out to the stands, but I ignored him. His sister, visiting from W. VA, came over and sat with me under the shade structure and apologized for his behavior. She said that the dotter is embarrassed, but shrugs it off with the "that's just my dad" excuse so many teens use to cover the fact that they are mortified by their parent's conduct. He was at another game and conducted himself appropriately, so perhaps my work here is done.

I'm signed up for another polo weekend in August, right before I resume with the fall semester. This tourney is being held deep in the heart of LA, so I've arranged for a neighbor to come in and watch the dogs Sat-Sun. I hope she doesn't bail on me (as I cannot commute to this event) because I had a great time and can't wait to join the polo people poolside.