The Washington times., 1924-09-05

prehenstble only to the player and,
possibly, to the horse.
Fascinating to Watch.
Not so, now. Within the last
few seasons when polo has become
the sport almost a part OF the
curriculum OF colleges and univer-
sites and when every army post
has it's own team and passes the
| hat to privately finance the pur-
chase of ponies which are cruelty
withheld by an unfeeling Congress
only lately has it become generally
| known that polo is thoroughly fas-
cinating to observe without the
slightest technical knowledge of the
game or even a personal interest In
either players or mounts. The
"croquet on horse back" Of the
early seventies now Is entrenched
firmly in the United States and
acknowledged to be. like all true
sport, of the greatest physical and
psychological value in the develop.
ment of the nations young man
hood.
We play marvellous polo. But so
do the English. Also they played
it before we did. If we fight the
| game with a fine young energy
they play 1t with q fine restraint.
This l offer not as of the learned
four that will represent us next
Saturday, but for the growing young
| polo-clan that swipes nightly and
misses disgustedly and rides on,
hard, as before! There is much to
be learned in this meeting OF old
systems and new.
1--WE can't lose"' declared the
flushed young man with the
horseshoe in his tie who sat next
to me at dinner last evening. a
venerable English cavalryman on
| the other side flushed too. Cant
you?" he said dryly. "We could,
| imagine-but perhaps we shant,"
and he raised his hand to touch
abstractedly at a curious scar that
was half hidden by an unruly shock
of gray hair.
did not even know his name. but
while / looked at him a picture
came back to me across eighteen
years. 1t was a polo game In
Cairo, or just outside Of Cairo, that
1 saw with my father.
Spirit Of Sport.
An English team was pitted, as
| / recall, against a Hindu four.
Perhaps they were not fighting, but
merely playing polo, but my mem
DRY had a sharp record Of a mans
white teeth set in a dark lip and
| fine line Of red therefrom-of an.
other face blanched with pain and
a broken wrist well strapped and
its owner still in the game.
did you ever play in Cairc?"
asked this man.
"Well, rather" he said quietly.
ct played in Cairo-last."
Then came a scene of which I
had seen only a part-a tripping
malIet, a swift pileup of men and
floundering horses, a sharp scream
from the sidelines and then my
| fathers hand across my eyes.
| Somewhat later / saw a limp form
trailing the bandaged wrist, BEING
carried away and there returned
to me the feeling of distinct chill
in that warm Egyptian sunshine.
The face of the man who had been
| twice hurt was the face Of this
man on my right---sallow, cast
| slightly awry by a network Of old
scars that covered his left cheek
| and brow. Out of that distortion
his eyes emerged like fragments
of rock lighted with mica dust.
They were fighting eyes, cool, rest
less, searching the moment for the
longest. most sporting chance.
I told this gentleman of my re.
collections and he froze at once.
Again. no matter. He is' quite as
entitled to his incognito as any
prince. But he must permit the
observation here that for many
generations the blood of fighting,
sporting Englishmen has been shed
to elevate a game to the degree of
dignity 1t will hold as an Interna-
tional affa;: next Saturday, and that
il 1t should be our luck to boast
a team Of invincible skill we shall
still have much to learn Of polo.