Last Sunday I took my gals back out to the Brandywine Polo Club for the 1st annual Philadelphia Cup. This time we didn’t work so hard; we just snagged ourselves some VIP tickets and hung out in the tent with the open bar (where the bartenders were pouring the BlueCoat with very heavy hand, if I may say so. No complaints!). While bringing our own tailgating supplies is fun too, on a super hot day it’s nice to have the luxury of a VIP tent and everyone else doing the work. Plus a DJ. You’s almost forget why we were there…
Oh yes-the game! In between getting to know some of the members and networking with my hats (it really was too bad there wasn’t a hat contest but I’ll take being showered with attention any day) we caught some excellent polo-pony action, and luckily wound up rooting for the winning team!
However, I think it’s agreed that we all know who the REAL winners are. My fascination with all things anatomical has me quite interested in horses; particularly polo ponies. It takes a certain breed of horse to play polo; one that is shorter in the back and able to turn on a dime, one who is also capable of short bursts of speed comparable/greater than that of a race horse. I imagine they’re pretty intelligent too, as some basic understanding of what they’re tying to achieve on that field must be present. I can’t help but marvel at their graceful, delicate looking ankles and how they hold up all that weight while gracefully trotting, running, turning, ect. Having dissected a horse leg myself (I’m still working on the shoe; updates next month I swear) I have a more vested interest in seeing these muscles in action for reference, as well as appreciation.
Those bandages on the front keep them from getting hurt when they get inadvertently whacked with a stick.
Speaking of sticks, one fo the female players from the winning team happened by and chatted us up while we admired the horses. She was a darling by the name of Kathy Whitman and even gave us a brief lesson in hitting the ball.
That’s Rachel Lynn K, our photographer for the day, and as you can see a real beauty. All the ladies wore my hats swimmingly.
And look who we ran into! One of my adversaries from hat parade past, Lauren St. Clair! It’s more fun to compete with people you really like, so we’ve become fast friends. She even invited us on one of her gastronomical adventures taking place later in the day. If you haven’t heard about her eating her way through Philly, act like you know, fool. Where all the food goes on that little frame is beyond me, though.
I know, I need a tutorial on how to mug for pictures. I look like some kind of crazed animal.
Here’s Eva in my squirrel hat; she was gracious enough to wear it and I think it gave her super powers….the unexpected side effect of wearing taxidermy on your head!
At halftime we all went out on the field to stomp the divots and surprise a sweet little red Ferrari (OK, I know nothing about cars so that’s all you get) drove out on the field with Miss. Philadelphia sitting on the back with Maria Papadakis, both of them waving to the crowd. While they’re pretty and nice and all, the REAL sweet stuff was in the trunk which was filled to the brim with bottles of Veuve! Those were promptly opened and we all enjoyed a toast ( or two or three) on the field.
When the game resumed we all took turns imagining ourselves driving such an exquisite piece of machinery.
Back in the tent, my hat was still commanding plenty of attention. These ladies were pretty bummed about Mexico losing their world cup game earlier in the day but I think petting my duck lifted their spirits somewhat.
And the winners! What a fantastic day.