For the love of polo

Opposite Six-goaler George Meyrick. This page George playing for City AM at Polo In The Park

The first few months of the year is always a time for reflection. It’s when the tax return has to be submitted, which brings into sharp focus the financial side of being a polo player. If only I didn’t have to plough any surplus straight back into better and better horses, my accountant might be more impressed! Instead, she is rather puzzled: not many of her clients are so happy about simply breaking even. It’s not a great business plan. The vast majority of my income is earned during only the summer months, and then there’s the Argentine season and the winter’s living to be paid for – plus all the expenses for the new season beginning in February.

The annual exercise of valuing my string of horses for depreciation purposes is also somewhat sobering. What value do you put on those that now, for whatever reason, are unable to play? I think I can say with confidence that, despite the apparently high earnings, if a detailed examination were made of the financial model, with earnings strictly matched against expenses, no one would play polo professionally if monetary reward were the only motive. With the pressures of life – a house, a mortgage and so on – it’s not an easy path. But then I look at the quality of my life. When autumn approached, while my friends in London continued their daily commute, I headed for the sun with my fellow migratory players once again. I know we are viewed with envy (and justifiably so) by those who don’t have the luxury of making a living doing something they are passionate about. However, it remains to be seen whether in a decade or so, we will look equally enviously at the results of their hard labours and at the security they have earned.

The benefits of playing polo are obvious and it’s a privilege to be able to do so. Financially, the earnings fall somewhere between those of the professional sportsman or woman who can amass enough capital to support them when they retire, and an amateur athlete who has to hold down a regular job to pay their way and fits in their training around it. But, of course, our expenditure is colossal, and the vast majority of it is spent in advance – regardless of the season’s earnings. The fees keep our heads above water and, in a good year, hopefully we’ll manage to fund the purchase of a few more horses of the quality we need to keep improving.

That said, every year’s still a juggling act, especially without the added advantage of the major sponsorship deals that are enjoyed by more popular sports. And the physical risks have financial implications, too. I’m sure there isn’t a player who hasn’t lost earnings due to injury at some point in their career. Many, including me, have lost an entire season.

Nonetheless, however much logic and reason weigh against the economic viability of the sport, the anticipation of the start of the season always helps one to set aside such thoughts. In my mind, there is nothing that beats this game. With all its extreme highs and lows, it’s akin to an addiction. The affinity with the horses, the team aspect of the game and the skill, tactics and speed needed, as well as the adrenaline surge and the desire to win make for an irresistible cocktail.

For me, that addiction began at the age of eight, when I saw my first match. I knew then it was what I wanted to do. But without the help and support of my parents over the years, and especially that of my father, I would not have been able to fulfil this childhood dream.

I’ve never thought of doing anything else. How difficult it will be to readjust to a more conventional career when the time comes and age puts paid to this one! And then, what all the years of total dedication to the sport will qualify me for is quite another question.

It’s an unusual, nomadic, often out-of-asuitcase lifestyle that, despite many long and difficult absences, becomes part of your being. You find yourself a lucky member of a close-knit group of friends who turn up all over the world, many of whom you have known since Pony Club days, and who share the same experiences. Many of us are heading for the next milestone and wondering how to reconcile the idyllic life of professional polo with the other responsibilities and commitments that are approaching.

But the sober musings of this grey, rainy day in Britain will soon be put behind me as I return to the warmth of Argentina. When I get home, my horses will be ready to start practices and the season will begin again. As the ball is thrown in at the first line-up, my accountant’s puzzled face will become a distant memory, and I’ll know exactly why I shall continue to play this sport for as long as I’m able. @GeorgeMeyrick