Silly things dressage judges say

[Edited from a rec.equestrian post, Tuesday, June 14, 1994]

I don't know that I would so much call this silly as kind...

Back a few geologic ages ago (I was 6 years old) a local club in the Phoenix area started sponsoring open dressage tests. After making a fulsome pest of myself about it, I wore down my father into agreeing to haul myself and his old school horse to one of these events. (Pauvre papan- a rider all of his life, given the best training Saumur has to offer, and stuck with a daughter who wants to ride for a "real" dressage judge.) I suppose his thinking was that an elderly schoolmaster that had trained dozens of riders all the way through haute école could be relied upon to safely cart his offspring around the field...

So -- much schooling and excitement later, The Day arrives. I don't recall the actual pattern of the test: the US tests were much different then, but as is traditional, it began with a trot down the center line from C with a halt at X to salute the judge. Having spent a rather short lifetime hearing my father exhorting students to "boldly and completely ride the horse to the halt" I was determined to do exactly that: mindful of my driving aids, I rode old Avatar del Sol right up to X and asked for a full halt. Ever obliging, he did indeed halt, and then some -- I found myself aboard a horse performing a fine, if slightly arthritic, levade...

I was in a state of almost complete panic -- I had NO idea what I had done to bring this about, so I froze, fearing the least -twitch- on my part could let loose a barrage of bouncing courbettes or caprioles. CENTURIES later, Avatar calmly lowered his forehand, stood himself up, and waited for his rider to return to a state of sentience. Somehow, I managed to salute the judge and complete the ride -- of which I haven't the least memory.

...Later...

Standing under a tree, still mounted, my father examing the pair of us with an expression generally reserved for small obnoxious animals. This unhappy and silent tableau was broken by Kevin (my father's partner in the farm) whistling up to us, golliwog grin spread across his face and a piece of paper in hand. Mon papan reads the paper and hands it up to me. It was the test score sheet- and the judge's comment for the first movement of the test was:

"Good cadence and impulsion; over-collected at the halt."