Читать книгу Riding for the Team - United States Equestrian Team Foundation - Страница 13

Will Simpson

Clinching the Gold

Although he wanted to ride Western when his relationship with horses began, Will changed his mind after he saw jumpers flying over enormous obstacles, horses and riders working together in harmony to clear them.

One of six children who grew up in Springfield, Illinois, he signed up for lessons at age 11 and rode with the Sangamon Pony Club. Will, who went on to work for Rodney Jenkins, gained fame early by setting an outdoor high-jump record of seven feet, nine inches on Jolly Good in 1985 in Cincinnati.

A five-time FEI World Cup finalist, he has won more than 75 Grands Prix, including the Del Mar International for four straight years, before clinching a team gold medal for the United States on El Campeon Farm’s Carlsson vom Dach at the 2008 Olympics in Hong Kong.

Will also gives back to the sport. From 1998 through 2008, he served as President of the West Coast Active Riders organization. He also was on the board of the North American Riders Group, and chaired the U.S. Equestrian Federation’s High Performance show jumping committee. Will served on the board of the Compton Junior Posse, coaching inner city children.

Based in California, Will has two children, his son, Ty, and daughter, Sophie, who made her mark as a champion equestrian on the junior scene in her teens.

Will Simpson always looked for his kids after he finished a round at the Olympics, wanting to tip his hat to his son, but he had a bit of a search after the final round in Hong Kong because he didn’t know where they were sitting.

After my first round in the Nations Cup at the 2008 Olympics, where Carlsson vom Dach had a foot in the water, and the second round, where I had the last jump down, the officials added everything up and called us back in for a jump-off against Canada for the gold medal. It all happened so fast, and next thing, you’re called back on your horse. It was basically going from “You’re finished,” to “Here you go again.”

I was a little disappointed following my second round. If there had to be a jump-off, I wanted to seal it so badly. And I got my chance.

I wasn’t concerned that Carlsson vom Dach was out of gas. He was the type of horse suited to that hot, humid climate. I had plenty of horse left. When it was my turn to go, I didn’t have to worry about the clock. Coach George Morris and my teammate McLain Ward came running up in the schooling area as I was finishing getting ready and said, “Now, Will, all you have to do is go clear.”

A sense of panic came over me. “All you have to do is go clear” in a jump-off in the Olympic Games? The jumps are huge. Anything can happen. It’s late at night in Hong Kong, with a crowd of 18,000 people in Sha Tin Stadium watching every move. But here we go.

And then, immediately, I felt a sense of calm. My favorite part of show jumping is the jump-off. We have a saying, “The sport’s no fun unless you get in the jump-off.” And here we were, going into the jump-off! I thought, “Okay, I’ve got this. This is what we do. This horse loves to jump off.” It was time to show the world how well this horse could jump.

So I went in with a peaceful feeling that came over me. We came to the combination on course—we had a slight rub, nothing even close to knocking a rail down. No problem. The last jump seemed to be a mile away…it was at the other end of the ring, a big oxer. I wondered, “Am I going to get in a fight with this horse right here?” But he just got into a groove and I let him go his speed, which is a little fast, and he got right to the base of the jump and fired up over it—way up over the front rail. He soared right over the fence.

Despite running into all kinds of problems on the day of the final selection trial in the United States for the 2008 Olympic team, Will Simpson was able to keep smiling.

After that, the announcer yelled, “Gold for the United States!” What a feeling.

It was a lifetime body of work that came down to a successful moment right then. Both McLain and George were on the kiss-and-cry podium. There was a debate about how fast I was going—some people thought it was way too fast; George thought it was just right. I felt it was the horse’s natural pace, and I wanted his body and his mind working at the same rate. It was a really fun debate…although it would have been a terrible debate if I hadn’t jumped that clean round! But it worked out perfectly, and our anchor rider, Beezie Madden, didn’t even have to jump again.

It was a thrill. Then I was in a little bit of a panic. Ever since we had a double clear in Rome, when my son, Ty, was there, I would tip my hat to him after I crossed the finish. My kids had seats in different sections every day. It took me about an hour to get back and forth from the security area to the public area.

I hadn’t had the time to go see my kids that night, so I had no idea where they were. I had to tip my hat as I went by each individual section and know that somewhere along the line, I would connect. That became my trademark—-the whole thing was a like a surreal dream, I was so preoccupied making sure I tipped my hat to Ty as I brought the horse down to a walk and headed toward the out gate.

We rode back in the ring for the awards ceremony. It was great being with my teammates, Beezie and Laura Kraut, as well as McLain, all walking out there. It had been a long journey, about 13 months from the time we bought Carlsson and nine months since we left California, tried out for the team, made the team, and went to Europe.

I started riding Carlsson in 2007 for the Gonda family’s El Campeon Farm. Eva Gonda and I saw this 11-year-old Holsteiner when I was showing in Europe. The horse was quick, light, brave, careful, and a little bit hard to ride. We knew he’d be a superstar in California. Trainer Gilbert Boeckmann had recommended the horse, who was ridden by Christian Seimer. Christian treated Carlsson like a pet. As we were vetting the horse, we didn’t need a lead rope; he followed Christian around as if he was a dog.

Carlsson was a little aggressive to the jumps; you had to finesse this horse. You couldn’t make him do anything. If you kind of let him do it his way, he was a beautiful jumper. I rode him in a loose ring snaffle because I didn’t want to discourage him with too much bit. We kept on going up through the ranks and were pointing toward the 2008 Olympics. While the main body of the Olympics was in Beijing, the equestrian competition was in Hong Kong because of quarantine issues on the mainland.

We had a conversation with the whole Gonda family about whether it would be worth it to go to Florida for the Olympic trials. In the end, the Gondas as usual were, like, “Hey, if you want to give it a try, let’s give it a try.”

We decided our program at the beginning of 2008 would mean staying right at home at El Campeon, where we knew the footing. It wasn’t worth taking a chance on new footing in Thermal, where the winter circuit had just moved from Indio.

At the same time, I didn’t want to show up in Florida too early and peak too early. So we trained for three or four weeks in the indoor ring at El Campeon, doing gymnastics, then we went to the outdoor sand ring and jumped little courses. After that, we headed for what we called the grass field, which was like a sand ring with grass coming out of it.

I set the jumps there bigger than I had ever jumped at home; I set the oxers wider than they ever were before, knowing that’s how they would be in Florida. Then we made the trek east.

I spent one week doing little classes in the de Némethy ring at the Palm Beach International Equestrian Center, rather than going into the big International Arena right away.

The first trial was on a Sunday night. It was very hot during the day in Wellington, and I wasn’t used to the humidity. Carlsson would lather everywhere where his skin made contact with his tack. I thought, “Wow, I’m over-cooking this horse.”

So on the day of the first trial, I hand-walked Carlsson, then put him away and came back for the class at night. But meanwhile, a cold front came in and it became freezing. Carlsson was going around the first Olympic trial with his tail over his back, snorting, and really running away, so we had three down.

A fault-free trip in the jump-off by Will Simpson on Carlsson vom Dach clinched gold for the U.S. team at the Olympics in Hong Kong, “a lifetime body of work that came down to a successful moment right then.”

Then we had to wait four days until Wednesday for the next trial. All my buddies were saying, “How are you enjoying your vacation?” But it wasn’t much of a vacation, because we had to score in order to participate in the prize money. We needed to be first, second, or third in the second trial to go on. Otherwise, “It’s lights out, we’re going home.”

I don’t know how it happened but we won the second leg of the trials. That gave us enough prize money and we qualified for the rest of the trials. After we had won three in a row, it was all heading in the right direction.

That was, until early on the morning of the last trial, when I got a call from Roger Solis, who was taking care of Carlsson. He told me he went to feed the horse and he wouldn’t eat. I was up even before the phone rang, awakened by the loudest thunder I had ever heard. When I got to the venue, I went right to Carlsson’s stall to see what was going on.

I noticed when you put the food up to his mouth he would eat, but he couldn’t move his neck. So no one really knew what happened, but my theory was he freaked out at the thunder and tweaked his neck and was totally out of whack. We had 12 hours before the night class, and it was spent with everyone—chiropractors, veterinarians, acupuncturists—working on the horse.

We actually got him to where I could ride him. George Morris and Frank Chapot, who had also served as Chef d’Equipe, came out to watch Carlsson jump. They said I could go in the last trial, but I disagreed.

I said, “I can’t, the horse is exhausted. He never rides that easy. He cantered around like a regular working hunter. That’s not him. He’s sound, he’s healthy, but he’s exhausted from all this treatment.” They told me, “You’re giving up your spot if you don’t go.”

Yet when we went the next morning to the riders’ meeting where they named the top 10, it was decided we would be in that group after they looked at our results and saw that Carlsson was back sound. That’s what got me to Europe.

After that meeting, we walked the horse down the street from the showgrounds to a nearby farm and rested him, turning him out and rehabbing him for the rest of our stay in Florida. By the time we got to Europe, he was in jumping shape again and ready to carve out his spot on the team.

The group of 10 finalists got split up, with half going to La Baule in France, St. Gallen in Switzerland, and Rome. The other half did Aachen, Germany, and Rotterdam in the Netherlands. You get to know people quite well when you’re riding with them on a daily basis, as we did in Europe, then in Hong Kong.

When you’ve finally been named to the team, as the Games get closer, you start thinking you should walk around in bubble wrap. You’ve got all these things going through your head. Your horse could wake up on the wrong side of the stall. You’re on pins and needles the whole way through. Then, finally, you’re riding in the ring with your teammates after all is said and done, and you got the job done. That’s an amazing ride… and then to dismount and get on the podium and hear the national anthem and the medal is around your neck, it’s a once-in-a-lifetime feeling that you’re in exactly the right spot. There’s no better place to be. There we were, back in the ring with our teammates after such an accomplishment.

I remember the moment when it first occurred to us that we could win. Our horses were jumping great, right from the beginning. We knew we just had to stay the course. When that feeling of realization set in, it was incredible. Just to be able to go to the Olympics was a big step. But when that feeling came over all five of us (my teammates and George) and then somehow, it all came together at the right time, it was an amazing thing.

When I got home to El Campeon, they had a big banner across the road greeting us, a whole welcoming party. Carlsson was sold after the Games, and he had a succession of riders, but none of them clicked with him. He was just that kind of a special horse.

In the end, it all worked out when he retired at Summer Wind Farm in Kentucky with Karen Bailey, who is also a wildlife rehabilitator. I visit him when I’m in Kentucky, and so does Christian Seimer, who had loved him so much. Carlsson wound up with an incredible spot for the rest of his life and couldn’t be in a better place.