The Ugliest Pony We Called Referee

I'll never forget the day Tommy asked me to show up early before my lessons started so I could sit on a few new lesson program prospects he had come across.

Legend has it Tommy had a connection that would scout school horse potential from slaughter pipelines and show up with a trailer full. Tommy would then pull each horse out, pop a rider on it, and decide in under thirty minutes whether that horse could earn its keep in his program. I was young with big ambitions and a deep respect for the business Tommy had built so when I had been asked to be his test rider, of course I said yes.

Boots and helmet on, my Butet saddle tucked under one arm, I walked through the barn and out the backdoor to the beautifully maintained outdoor arena. I remember seeing a black and white coat that resembled a cows coat more than a horse's coat. As I got closer, my eyes widened and a smirk washed across my face.

Tommy smiled back and chuckled under his breath. "I know this horse is nothing to look at, but you've gotta get on him. I'm telling you. I think you'll like him."

Never one to question Tommy and all his years in the horse business, I threw my saddle on and kept an opened mind. I tightened my girth, walked a few circles, and swung my leg over the no-named 15 hand backyard bred paint pony that looked more like an inverted cow than an equine.

"Is it a cow, or is it a horse?" I joked softly as I walked him around the rail to warm up.

"Who cares!" he hollered. "I just need him to be safe enough to be on the lesson program roster and jump up to 2'6 with these kids."

I smiled, nodded, and grinned. The thing I always admired about working with Tommy was that he didn't care what other people thought about his horses. He had built his riding lesson business of slaughter truck horses that got a second chance at life to earn their keep teaching kids how to ride.

I warmed the no-name cowpony up at the walk and the trot before I stepped him into the canter. To my surprise, this little cowpony had the canter step of a much larger horse. Melodic and smooth to ride, his biggest challenge was that he required his rider to hold him together at the canter. Otherwise, he would inevitably become too long and too low, which could lead to tripping or, if you're jumping, flipping over top of the fence.

This quality of his canter would later prove to be what made him a horse unfit for beginners jumping, but a great learning opportunity for my intermediate and advanced riders.

Whenever you are first figuring out how to ride any new horse, there are what I like to refer to as "keys" to unlocking the best performance. It's up to you, as the rider, to figure them out. No two horses are the same, but the more horses you sit on the easier it becomes to recognize clues and subconsciously tune into your new partner. With the little cowpony, the key to jumping a successful course was to keep him compact and consistent and to always, always, always ride him up to the base of a jump.

This key, like most things, I learned the hard way.

Tommy threw up a few small fences and after warming up over a handful of trot jumps, I stepped into his metronome canter. We rounded the turn to approach my first canter fence. Finding a distance on a seasoned partner is hard enough, but finding a distance on a horse you've never ridden and that has little (if any) formal training is an entirely different skillset.

At the time, I was riding with the NIU IHSA team after transferring back home from Randolph College. I was often given the hardest horses to school for the head coach because she knew she could rely on me to stick the hardest rides and make the tangible progress she needed for her abundance of less advanced riders. She also knew I was riding with Tommy and running his lesson program, so the more I said "yes" to riding opportunities, the more that came my way.

Tommy took a chance on me. He saw the same skillset in me when he hired me, and with his help I was able to become more successful every time he stepped in the arena to coach me. Tommy always brought out the best in me as a rider because he set the bar high and always knew how to get me to the next level without me doubting my confidence.

It's rare to find a coach like him, with as much knowledge and intuition about the horse you're riding as he has about the rider you are.

As the fence neared, I didn't see a distance. The old me, before Tommy taught me to be a confident rider, would have panicked, held my breath, clutched the reins, slowed down and gotten a refusal. But the more seasoned rider I was becoming, a little help from him yelling "keep going!" from across the arena, I was able to close my leg and asked for a distance I like to refer to as a "flyer".

A flyer distance is when you leave two or more strides out in front of the fence. It is not pretty and when the fences are small, relatively harmless with a balanced and sticky rider. But as the fences go up, or as the skillset of the rider goes down, these distances can lead to a lot of falls. Luckily, all my time training for triathlons and riding five days a week meant I had the grace and the strength to hold on and stay on.

As we took off and I realized my error, I prayed this little cowpony could clear the small fence at such an inappropriate takeoff. It only occurred to me mid-air that I had no idea what I was riding and this could end badly. It wasn't until we landed on the other side of the fence safely that I laughed, and Tommy smiled – like I had just figured out something he already knew.

"Okay, maybe there is something to this little thing!" I said, excited to take him to the next fence, now knowing that if I can get him to the base, I might just have my next reliable intermediate lesson horse.

The next time we picked up the canter, Tommy made it a point to get me to the correct gate - from rhythm, to tempo, to step length - before we approached our first fence. That was all it took for my eye to adjust and start finding the bases of each fence as we cleared it with ease. The little cowpony never once hesitated and proved that when he was in doubt, he just went for it. The best quality you can ask for in any jumping lesson horse.

"So, what should we call him?" I remember asking a few of my working students a week later. Nearly everyone that came across the little cowpony had the same first reaction that I did - what the hell is this "thing" doing in a barn full of fancy Warmbloods and AA hunter/jumper clients?

He was teaching my lesson kids how to ride better, that's what.

"I think we should call him Referee, or 'Ref' for short, because he's black and white," said one of my most dedicated working students, Jess. I loved that she saw his potential, instead of suggesting we name him after something that would perpetuate his stigmas.

"Yeah, Ref...I like that," I nodded and agreed with a smile.

Ref became my strategic lesson pony that put my intermediate riders to the test. Those that excelled are the ones that really stepped up the levels quickly because of the lessons he had to offer, but those that didn't excel would unfortunately find themselves with a harsh reality check. Rough landings and short falls would become Ref's lessons to the kids who dare take the flyer unprepared.

The magic was that those kids never made the same mistake twice.

When I think back to that day Ref arrived, I remember the conversation Tommy and I had while I was taking a walk break with Ref. Anyone who's ridden in the top arenas in this sport knows you get the best nuggets of wisdom when you're in-between jump rounds with the legendary trainers of this sport.

In my short career, Tommy was the Chicagoland legend I never forgot to be grateful I had the opportunity to ride with.

"Look, this is how my father built his business. He pulled horses off of slaughter trucks and out of slaughter pipelines and gave them jobs. Their jobs aren't easy, but it sure beats a slow march to death outside American borders," he said.

I placed my right hand on the buckle and my left hand on my hip as I let Ref show me how relaxed and trustworthy he could be with me on his back. I always loved to see how horses responded to total freedom with the reins - it tells me a lot about what kind of ride they need to be successful.

"All this European import stuff – this all still new. It's just not how it was done back then. We've got far too many American horses of all breeds ended up in slaughter pipelines that are perfectly good riding lesson horses. Hell, some of them are perfectly good Grand Prix prospects, but you don't know until you give them a chance. That's what we're doing here. I know this horse is damn ugly but if you think he has a place in this program, let's give him a chance," he said.

I smiled and fought back a tear. His message hit me deep somewhere in my soul, a place my grandparents would be proud to say I landed.

"Yeah, Tommy, I think this little guy is pretty cool. Let's give him a shot."