Let me be clear: being a dressage judge is one of the toughest jobs on the planet. First, you’re watching for tiny nuances of performance in a 1,000 pound animal, and then holding them up against a standard. I don’t care if you’re the best judge on the planet, you can’t have your eyes on all the horse’s body parts all at once. You’re going to miss stuff, and you’re only human, but everyone expects you to be ON IT, ALL THE TIME.
To get educated enough to be a judge, you have to slog through hours of hands-on education, not to mention all the licensing hoops through which the various national and international federations require that you jump.
Then, you have to write your comments on all the ways in which Rider Sally and her precious pookie Princess weren’t perfect, and then sign your name to it. And it should go without saying that Sally is possibly the CEO of a Fortune-500 company, or Princess’s breeder, or someone else who may or may not be used to a) getting her own way, and b) wielding a great axe of power. (As if anyone really gets delighted hearing about all the ways in which one wasn’t perfect!)
To top it all off, you have to do it for hours and hours, in whatever weather you can dream of, in sandy and dirty places, outdoors.
So it’s not the most awesome job. But it’s a hugely important one that I have nothing but respect for.
All that said, sometimes judges are awesome, hysterically funny, totally way-off-the-wall-wrong in their interpretation of a situation, or any combination thereof. And I’ve been doing this a very long time, so here are a few of my favorite Close Encounters of the Dressage Judge Kind, the funniest comments I’ve ever gotten, plus some that are funny because the judge didn’t have the whole story:
On being a future star: Billy is beautiful. I mean, really, really beautiful, refined and shiny with a really pretty head and lovely youthful-looking features, even at his age. He’s also a squirrel who remains to this day in possession of more youthful enthusiasm than common sense. He would regularly, through all points of his career, from the beginning of our Young Riders journey together to the end of our Grand Prix career and even including Kristin’s time with him, receive comments on some variation on a theme of this: “What a talented horse for the future! Once he matures and settles into this level of work, he’ll be quite stunning.”
The most recent one of these was last year, when he was age 21, showing second level with Kristin. I told her that maybe 22 would be the year in which he settled in and matured to the second level work, having been an FEI horse for at least the last 11 years, and having started showing Grand Prix in 2005.
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(No such luck this year, by the way. Maybe 23 will be it.)
On riding forward: I was very young, maybe 13 or 14, showing my wonderful, perfect and perhaps not-so-talented off-the-track Thoroughbred, Beau, at training level. I was the last ride of the day, and as I went around the ring, the judge told me to ride really fast. I must have looked confused, because she told me that my ride was the thing between her and a beer.
So I rode as forward, er, fast, as I could possibly go, to the tune of almost 70%.
On riding forward, II: My other Young Riders horse was a hippopotamus in horse clothing named L’Etoile, who taught me a tremendous amount about a lot of things, including how bad a rider I was at 19, as well as how the world didn’t owe me anything, like a horse that listened to my leg. “Struppie” had all sorts of tricks, the most famous of which was to come into a beautifully balanced and well-prepared canter pirouette, only to then stop dead and refuse to budge no matter how hard his rider Pony Club-kicked (and remember that I am no pixie—I can kick with the best of ’em), laughing his big Holsteiner head off the entire time.
I decided that the solution was just to gun it at Mach 2 with my hair on fire through the entirety of the test. One judge thought that plan wasn’t a good one: “Learn the difference between forward and fast.” (Talk about chickens coming home to roost!)
On exuberance: For some insane reason I decided to try and take Billy in the Grand Prix at Dressage at Devon. Miraculously, he held it together in the warm-up, and even more miraculously, made it around the ring and down the centerline to the first salute without any trouble. I halted at X, and took my hand off the reins to salute, which allowed Billy to raise his head, look around, completely lose it and rein back nearly all the way out of the ring. The rest of the ride was equally tragic, but it was my 22nd birthday and I was stupid and at Devon, so hey, I had a grand time.
The ride itself scored a stellar 51%, but I received an 8 on my Seat and Position from one very prominent judge, who wrote that I was “tactful, brave and not influential.”
On exuberance, II: Midge has always been high-energy, but at 5 he was quite the hellion, and at one show a horse before him had pooped on the centerline right before X. He decided such a thing was terrifying (or disgusting, who knows) and did this triumphant launch over the pile into a sideways-hockey-stop somewhere well after X.
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Judge’s comment: “Leapt.”
And some generally fantastic comments:
On a recent test with, um, a bit of tension: “Unfortunately today your horse was a fire-breathing dragon, or thought there was one in the ring with him. I’m sure you won the warm-up.”
On another test where I demonstrated all the skills I developed containing excess enthusiasm (well-practiced from years of showing Midge and Billy, it should go without saying): “A less talented rider would not have gotten out of this horse all the good that you did.”
More than once on Midge’s effervescent tests as a youngster: “Lovely tail and markings.”
On Johnny (embracing Midge and Billy’s lifestyle): “More obedience, less bounce.”
And on a lovely horse whose owner dressed her in a fantastic sparkly browband and a stellar sparkly fly bonnet: “Your bling clashes.”
What are the best comments you’ve received on a dressage test?
