(“Because he was closest to the gate.”)

Cleaning out the old flux capacitor this morning—unrelated thoughts to share:

To begin, a true story from a show manager recounting the time when a spectator came into the office to complain that she had just used the portajohn and the purse holder was wet. . . .

Rolling my eyes department, vol 2: Comments posted below a YouTube video I had put up of Steffen Peters and Ravel warming up for the Palm Beach Masters: an obligatory do-gooder lament that Ravel was sometimes behind the vertical. This followed by another poster’s explanation that since Ravel had come to Steffen from Edward Gal’s yard, he had been working all along to improve the connection and keep him up and out to the hand. Then the topper: the first poster coming back with “Well, maybe he shouldn’t be showing the horse if it isn’t ready.” . . . .

Eye rolling vol 2.5: After posting a YouTube video on my website of student Laura Herndon’s first PSG (for which she received a 69% from Janet Foy), a helpful remark from a random viewer: “Shouldn’t her heels be a little further down?” . . . .

A slightly embarrassing moment for a self-possessed young man many years ago upon opening a show program: I had been riding a woman’s big, strong quarter Percheron, 3/4 TB mare, Moose, to get her ready for her first horse trials. The owner had sent the entry in, and not until I arrived on the show grounds did I find out I was competing on “Panda Bear’s Dream!” Not too reinforcing for my self-image. . . .

Speaking of self-images, having an overly optimistic vision of your own riding skills can get you into trouble. Think how many people inflate their past experience when calling to schedule a first lesson appointment. One friend was looking over a brochure for an African safari on horseback. To help the applicant quantify her riding skills and determine if they were appropriate, the copy proclaimed: “Must be able to gallop away from lions.” That’s one way to weed out the pretenders!

Another rider—a student of mine—was only too willing to fly her true colors right out in public. When I asked her why she chose to ride this particular horse of hers in that day’s lesson, she responded, “Because he was closest to the gate!”

In the Am I Normal (?) department, it has occurred to me that all my travels to do clinics around the country have left me with a peculiar skill. Were there to be a Streets of San Francisco-like police line up where instead of showing me a set of mug shots of criminals, the authorities put before me photos of the interiors of my hosts’ refrigerators from Washington to Montana to Utah to Louisiana to Florida, I could identify each owner by her fridge’s arrangement and contents. I frighten myself sometimes. . . .

And while on the topic of travels, can anyone think of a less sincere apology (discounting ones that can’t be related in polite discourse) than the one your flight attendant makes over the PA as your plane, beset by mechanical issues, pulls up to the arrival gate two hours late? “We know you have a choice in air travel…” Well, actually, you think if I really did, I’d be flying with you guys? . . . . And now a story about instincts and reflexes – qualities which never lie too far beneath the surface in many horses. A student was preparing her OTTB horse for a lesson. He was standing placidly on the crossties in the wash rack at the barn where she boarded. The wash rack was located halfway down the aisle in a breezeway which opened both into the barn and out into the field. As she saddled him, the horse was standing with his tail toward the interior of the building. On the wall right beside his head hung a telephone (a landline for those of you who remember such things). Suddenly the phone rang with an old-fashioned bbbrrrrring. Did I mention that the horse was off the track? Do you recall the sound that goes off when a starting gate opens? Can you picture how fast that horse disappeared – saddle and all– into the orchard in the far, far distance beyond the field? . . . .

Some surprises are more intentional, falling into the category of “leg pulling,” a pastime of which I am very fond. I was judging a dressage equitation class at an Arabian show. There was just a single entrant. I had her perform the required movements and then ” line up facing her ringmaster.” Harking back to the days of gym class or drill in boot camp, I instructed the ringmaster to have her “count off.” The kid looked very perplexed and sat silently until the ringmaster whispered to her, “Just shout out ‘ONE.’ It will make him happy.”. . .

Another time I was doing a clinic in Taos, and a woman came up to me carrying a USET t-shirt. She had had all sorts of dressage luminaries–Walter Zettl and Jane Savoie among many others– sign it she explained as she handed me a Sharpie.

Taking the pen as I examine the shirt, I asked, “Can I cross out the people I don’t like?”

Horrified, she grabbed it back until I reassured her I was only teasing. . . .

On a more serious note, as I count down the weeks and days until I can have this cast come off my wrist, I appreciate the strength and fortitude it takes for people with real disabilities to get through their daily existence. My slightly banged up ribs and knee and wrist are really just an inconvenience compared to what others must endure full time and with no end in sight. My total respect and admiration goes out to them. . . .

And finally, a sterling example of leadership and maintaining credibility: Davey Johnson, currently managing the Washington Nationals and a true baseball lifer, explained his philosophy on holding team meetings when his club was on a losing streak: “I always wait until the day in the rotation when my best pitcher is due to go out there. That’s the day that we’re most likely to break out of our slump, and the players will think my meeting has done some good.”