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The English invent the most stupid of sports," says John. He should know,
he's English and we've been talking about cricket.
We are sitting at the poolside bar in the sumptuous
Anantara Resort and Spa near the coastal town of
Hua Hin, three hours
south of Bangkok.
We have just spent the day watching elephant polo.
At the Somdej Phra Suriyothai military camp half an hour down the road,
heavily sponsored teams battled it out in scorching heat before a tiny
audience of corporate guests, a contingent of international media which
almost outnumbered the participants, and a few bemused locals and soldiers.
The whole thing has been utterly absurd, but ponderous pachyderms
suddenly become as agile as ponies under the guidance of the local mahouts
and the players, who carry 3m-long sticks and aim for a ball which can often
be trampled into the dirt under very large feet.
It all feels very quaint and British Raj - and indeed one of the older
hands is the handsome Colonel Raj Kalaan from
India, known as the Silver
Fox for his thick white hair.
During the sweaty tournament in tropical heat plenty of water is drunk,
but so are gallons of Chivas Regal thanks to one of the sponsors. And by
night these people who play hard - 14 teams including one of former All
Blacks Stu Wilson, Bernie Fraser and Steve McDowell - party even harder.
Elephant polo is not the sport of the common man: teams at last year's
event were sponsored by Mercedes Benz, American Express, British Airways
and, in the case of the former All Blacks (who embarrassingly almost lost to
a team of Bangkok transvestites, the hilariously named Screwless Tuskers),
PricewaterhouseCooper.
It also isn't for the faint-hearted. The elephants can get up a fair bit
of pace and if you've ever been atop one you know it can be a bumpy ride
even when they dawdle. Add to that swinging a long stick at a tiny ball, the
searing sun, and chukkas (halves) which last well over the allocated seven
minutes because of stoppages and you have a game which is ... well, as John
said, pretty damn stupid. But also a lot of fun.
The supporters in the tents - one of which serves a never-ending and
ever-changing menu of Chivas cocktails - bay with delight as the massive
animals gallop around the park followed by a small army of cleaners who
collect the small mountains of dung an elephant leaves when in a state of
high excitement.
The World Elephant Polo Association which organises this annual event
established the rules in 1982 and has its headquarters at the Tiger Tops
Jungle Lodge in the Royal Chitwan Park in Nepal. It is a registered Olympic
sport with the Nepal Olympic Committee.
The major tournament is played on an airfield in Nepal, but in 2001 two
new competitions were launched: this King's Cup tournament in Hua Hin, and
another in Galle, Sri Lanka, in February which was cancelled after the
tsunami ravaged the area.
The rules are similar to horse polo but the field is about a third the
size, each team has three elephants, no more than two may be in the D (the
area demarked by that pitch marking in front of the goal), and elephants may
neither pick up a ball nor lie down in the goalmouth.
Sugar cane or rice balls packed with vitamins (molasses and rock salt)
are given to the elephants at the end of each match, and a cold beer or soft
drink to the elephant drivers.
Over the week it can be hilariously engaging - I never thought I'd be
shouting, "Elephant in the D!" with such fervour, let alone know what it
meant. But better is the fact that this curious sport is peopled by
larger-than-life characters.
Margie McDougal from Nepal is a fierce and longtime competitor in the
Bangkok Bank Ladies' team. She delivered this accidentally ambiguous
innuendo to the ladyboys in the Screwless Tuskers after some on-field
shenanigans: "If you want to be ladies, play like ladies. No hooking."
Oliver Winter is a skilful player - who imports polo ponies from
Germany, Argentina and
Brunei and who tried to drive his Mercedes Benz team to victory for the
third time.
After a week of heats by day and parties by night at the Anantara Resort
the Sunday afternoon final was between Australia and Winter's Mercedes Benz
Thailand in front of a huge crowd of tourists and locals who had heard the
hometeam were contenders. They got the perfect result, the first Thai
victor.
The English finished well down the rankings, above the All Blacks.
But the King's Cup Elephant Polo Tournament is almost incidentally about
elephant polo. It is about having a good time.
Peter Prentice of the Chivas team - now into his 18th year playing - is a
man for whom life is a party. His occasional commentary on the games was
punctuated with shameless plugs for the sponsors and as the day progressed
his hyperbole inflated accordingly. During the final game he described the
players as the ultimate athletes - to loud guffaws and applause.
"It's not pretty, but it is elephant polo," he shouted. And, when the
young Australian team took to the field - after the numerous pre-match
photographs which seem obligatory - he bellowed, "The whole of Perth,
actually the whole of Australia, is watching these wonderful young men
today."
It added a farcical and self-deprecating touch to what is otherwise taken
seriously: collecting money for a good cause.
The event raises funds for the Thailand Elephant Conservation Centre in
Lampang, northern Thailand, which provides welfare, sustenance, medical care
and employment for the kingdom's 1500 wild and 2500 domesticated elephants.
The event has so far raised around US$65,000 ($91,000) and people are
prepared to dig deep, especially at the Saturday night auction which
followed another long dinner for a couple of hundred at the Anantara and
plenty of drinks.
Up for auction are return flights to the UK on British Airways (another
sponsor), mobile phones (from Mobile Easy Thailand) and paintings by
elephants. All of them realised bids beyond their market value - although it
was admittedly hard to assess the value of a painting by an elephant. More
than US$200 ($280), as it turned out.
On the final night John and I are back in the poolside bar in the
Anantara.
We laugh about the absurdity of this game which has obviously been
invented by rich people with too much time on their hands. "You were right
the other night," I say. "It's a bloody stupid sport, but a lot of fun.
Especially the post-match parties."
"Yes, we invent stupid sports," he says turning glum. "Then everyone
beats us at them."
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