Chapter 13 Samantha
Samantha
The Irish jumping scene and the American ones are very different, and most notably, Ireland doesn’t have many of what we would call entry-level show opportunities in America.
In America, we split the classes in our shows between hunter and jumper.
The “hunters” is a little like if dressage and show jumping had a baby.
Instead of being a timed event and focusing on the horses riding a clear round, meaning they don’t knock any poles down, there’s a judge who’s evaluating how well the rider uses their aids (hands, feet, etc.) and how well the horse moves, holds itself, and paces the course.
That allows a whole host of competition in the small range, with cross rails, with two foot, and with two-and-a-half foot jumps.
In Ireland, I’ve heard several times that, “a cow can jump a meter,” which happens to be three foot three, so why would anyone even compete on a horse at a level below that?
It’s a very different mentality than we have in America, where many of the amateurs never jump above three foot three, merrily competing at that height their entire lives.
I think part of the reason may be that there aren’t as many sport horses (often called warmbloods) in America.
We have lots of quarter horses and thoroughbreds, which the Europeans consider to be less-talented jumpers.
Objectively, if you’re simply grading on who can jump higher, they’re probably correct.
Though you will always find exceptions to the rule, your average warmblood will probably almost always outjump your average quarter horse.
They’ll often outjump the thoroughbreds, too.
So when I go to look for shows that are close, it’s probably not a surprise that the best option I find is in Waterford—the Ballinamona Equestrian Center has a Winter League that runs every Sunday, and it includes a “Newcomer’s League,” which I love. It’ll be perfect for Natalie’s girls.
Blessedly, all the classes start at 10 am, and they have assigned times, unlike the states, where you have start times for rings, but no idea when anyone’s event will actually begin.
Even so, on the morning of our show, I’m a bit of a basketcase.
I didn’t show at all in the months leading up to our move.
I couldn’t have even if I wanted to, between losing Varius and divorcing Brent.
And now, I haven’t shown in the months we’ve been here either.
It leaves me feeling very, very rusty as I load our horses into the trailer that’s towed behind a “lorry” as the Irish call it, or a truck, as we would call it in America.
As I load, I realize that I need to work with two of these horses on proper trailering.
Conor’s great, as expected, and his full sister, Dara, is also wonderful.
But I have to call Natalie to help me with her little gal, Riona, and Scout’s a disaster.
I’m guessing his last few trips were not fun or easy.
It takes a crop, some lunging, and a lot of patience to load him, but we do it at last.
“That was fun.” Natalie’s grimace would tell me it was a joke if I didn’t already know.
“Hopefully it’ll be less of an ordeal on the way back,” I say.
“Because I’d rather not have our first introduction to the Irish horse scene involve breakdancing across the gravel as we try and load our idiotic five-year old.
” I sigh. “Maybe we should wait until everyone else is gone and it’s dark before we come home. ”
Natalie’s smirking. “Sure, yeah, that’s a good plan.
” She texts her girls to bring the other gear we need while we load up the tack.
“But listen, no matter how goofy Scout is at his first show, everyone will immediately see what a talented rider you are.” She shrugs.
“I’m sure you already know that, but sometimes it helps to hear it anyway. ”
I wish I believed her. I feel like lately my skills have been backsliding. “It’s just a fun little one-day show anyway.”
“And Scout’s no dressage horse.” She’s smirking again.
“No, he certainly isn’t, but I did get him extending the other day, and he was flying over ditches, too.”
“So maybe he’ll make up for a weak dressage performance with top marks on cross-country.”
“Sure,” I say. “Maybe.” While I wait on the girls, I text Richard.
Do you really have to bring your dad?
Because I’m going to do badly, and I don’t want him to think that’s how I ride.
It’s going to be bad enough having Richard watch.
You’re so wrong. You look amazing, and managing a newer greener horse is just more impressive.
It’s just a local show. He’s going to think you’re as amazing as I do.
Richard definitely doesn’t get it.
I brought my baby horse, Scout. It’ll be his first show. I’d really rather not be judged on how he does.
Isn’t that the whole point of a show? To be judged?
His winking face doesn’t make me feel much better.
And then I’m driving, and Natalie, Hannah, and Clara are pelting me with questions. Once I answer them all, I have one of my own. “Who’s watching the twins and Paul?”
“Mason,” Natalie says with a sigh. “He’s insisting on coming.”
“Even though he never came to shows before,” Hannah says.
“But Mom never went to the shows before either, not as a person showing,” Clara says. “So she kind of ran everything, and the time or two Dad came, he had no idea what was going on.”
“He still has no idea what’s going on.” Hannah’s glaring out the window.
“He’s trying, though,” Clara says. “I think that’s worth something.”
“I’ll remind you of that,” Hannah says, “the next time I try to do the dishes but run out of time. You can go ahead and do them for me.”
“Someone is just like her mother,” I say. “You literally sound like a tiny clone of Natalie when she was your age.”
Hannah’s beaming when we pull up to the show facility.
“You know, this ten a.m. start time is kind of amazing,” I say.
“Yeah, the walk-trot classes in America always starting at 7 am was brutal,” Natalie says. “And Pre-beginner wasn’t much better.”
“Okay, so remind me of the order,” Hannah says.
Clara’s just doing the dressage and show jumping portions, but Hannah wanted to try to do all three parts. I’m not sure she’s going to really manage the dressage test, but she really wanted to try. She only memorized one pattern, so we are all really hoping and praying she gets pattern A.
A few moments later, Hannah’s jumping up and down, so I’m guessing she did.
Her mother does an amazing job of both calming Hannah down and also preparing her horse without getting her white show pants dirty.
I’m not quite sure how she does it, but I think being a mother might give you superpowers.
I’m surprised, as Hannah’s preparing to go into the warmup area before her dressage test, when Natalie grabs my arm.
“I’m freaking out.”
“What?” I grab the reins for her. “Why?” I glance over her horse, but she seems just fine. Natalie looks great, too, so she’s not freaking out over something obvious.
“I never should have done this. My job is to wipe her boots, and tell her it’s fine, and tuck her hair up under her helmet. My job is not to be so distracted by my own stupid pattern and my spot outside that I might have to miss my own daughter’s first dressage test.”
“I talked to the showrunners. They’re super nice.
They agreed that they’ll hold our run for a moment if they have to so we can be here for Hannah.
They’re happy we’re all joining them, and they look forward to us coming to many, many of these.
” I squeeze her hand and release her. “Now, tell me your pattern.”
She runs through it, and I hope it’s right. I don’t have hers memorized. I’m going to struggle enough to remember mine. Dressage has always been my weakest of the three. “Good,” I say. “Good.”
“Except that really long walking section is impossible. Literally, she tosses her head one hundred percent of the time.”
I smile. It’s so Natalie, I can hardly handle it. “You do realize you don’t have to win your very first show back.”
She rolls her eyes, and then Hannah goes in for her test.
I work through the pattern in my head while Hannah goes, and if I remembered it right, which I think I did, she got every single movement.
She went a little wide on the ten-meter circle, and her working trot needs some work, but her posting was great, and Conor looked relaxed.
All in all, it was a really good first dressage test. Her score’s higher than I imagined it could be, and we’re all beaming when Natalie gets up to warm up for her turn.
I head back to get Scout ready—these smaller shows run really fast—and when I get back, Natalie’s ready to go. Mason’s there, waving, and Paul keeps shrieking, “Mom is the best! Mom is the best!”
“Could you—”
Before I can even finish, Clara salutes and starts fast-walking around to the spectator area so she can encourage Paul to settle down. The last thing we need is Riona spooking because a kid’s singing or yelling, but Clara running in front of her could be just as bad, hence the fast-walk.
Sometimes I wonder why we like horses so much.
They run around on their one big toenail, spooking at everything, and they have a million medical problems. But then, Clara calms Paul down, and Natalie enters the ring, and she executes her entire dressage test perfectly.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so in sync with Riona.
Some horses do better when they perform at shows, almost as though they realize this matters, and Riona must be one of those.
Her dressage score is exactly what it should be—high.
Vanessa has joined Mason and Paul. Now Trina’s jumping up and down next to Blaine and Amelia. Bryce drops a hand on Trina’s shoulder. Trace is clapping for Aunt Natalie, and even Mason looks pretty excited for her. For a split second, my vision blurs.