Return Of The Empire

By Kit C. Cauw

When we approach the pitch for the first time, the third annual King's Cup Elephant Polo Tournament is well underway. Hosted by the Anantara Resort & Spa Hua Hin, the event was first brought here by vetern horse polo player, Chris Stafford, vice president and general manager of Anantara Resorts. This year, he is competing on the American Express Thailand team, the hometown favourite. True to the form of a medieval jousting tournament, the field is lined with pavillions, white tents whose primary purpose is not so much to shade spectators from the sun as to keep the ice from melting, to keep the beer cold. At the far end of the field, a tower has been erected at approximately the height of an elephant's back, presumably to provide the players ease in mounting.

It is Saturday, September 20th, 2003. We have arrived just in time for the first semi-final, a match pitting defending champion Mercedes Benz Thailand, with a mostly German team, who practiced on the roofs of their cars due to a dirth of native elephants, against Sandalford Wines of Australia. Communication seems to be quite a challenge for all. Unlike in horse polo, players generally cannot actually control their steeds, with exeptions of course, notably the brothers Kristjan and Timothy Edwards of Nepal, who have owned and ridden their own elephants in the jungles for many years.

In the King's Cup, however, all elephants carry the player and the mahout, who drives. First the mahout, most likely from rural Thailand, where quality English instruction is as scarce as hot running water, must listen to his player, each of whom speak English with a different accent, then must relay the information to his elephant, who speaks a different language entirely. I was pleased to see that there is a match just for the mahouts, to provide them opportunity to actually play and demonstrate their talents, but I was saddened to note the absence of written mahoot profiles in the information packets. Certainly they are just as vital to a team's success as the men, women, and, in the case of the "Screwless Tuskers" team, transgenders weilding the mallets.

The first semi-final is fun just because it is our first match, but there is little of note as the German Mercedes Benz team trounces the Australian Sandalford Wine 10-2. Throughout, the announcer salutes "gorgeous under-the-trunk shots" and "lovely play beneath the elephant." When the match is finished, one of the Benz team salutes the fallen, proclaiming, "It's a great day, we get to drink Foster's beer after beating the Australians!" To the victor, the spoils.

The second semi-final features American Express Thailand against Chivas Regal. At mid-field, four elephants lock together in a scrum of trunks and limbs, their mahouts trying to manoeuver them into favourable positions, while the players, dressed in white jodphurs (or jeans), team polo jerseys, high leather boots, and pith helmets, poke for the ball with their two-metre-long mallets. As the bitter contest to win the scrum continues, players straining in their rope harnesses to get a decent angle on the elusive ball, a voice crackles over the loudspeaker, saying, "Four elephants on top of the ball here. It could go either way!"

Suddenly, the ball kicks free, and Stafford of AMEX takes a good swing, connecting and driving the ball down the field in a dramatic one-hopper. The crowd roars as the elephants break from the scrum and thunder forward. While not exactly lithe, they reach surprising speeds in little time, the mahouts at their necks jerking like cowboys on bucking broncos. The players rise in their rope harnesses, which are tied around their thighs and the elephants' tails, and lean forward as their steads rally in hot pursuit. Following the combatants is another elephant, this one with a pavillion on its back to protect the judges from the hot sun.

There is a certain irony that Thailand, one of the few countries in the region never to be colonized, and fiercely proud of that history, is playing host to a game of the last European empire. The Sri Lankan elephant polo association still prefers its colonial name, Ceylon, and other outfits have journeyed here from Australia and Nepal. Players hail from Hong Kong, India, Singapore, as well as Thailand. While horse polo remains the pinnacle of upper class gentlemen's sport, elephant polo provides an exotic, eccentric twist, one that conjures up bygone eras when one travelled Asia not by Land Rover but on the backs of these majestic creatures, when men drank gin and tonics not so much for the alcohol as for the quinine. (Wink, wink.) In Thailand, of course, the elephant has further significance as it has long been the national symbol; the old flag of Siam featured a white elephant in a field of red, and many a glorious battle was fought upon these noble steeds.

The King's Cup Elephant Polo Tournament is not just the whimsical reminiscence of empire; its main purpose is charitable, to raise money for elephants. Proceeds go to the National Elephant Insitute. A booth is set up to showcase the work this organisation is doing for the embattled pachyderm including conservation measures, educational programs designed to end the heinous trade of ivory, work opportunities in the tourist industry, and art. A small child looks on while an elephant takes a brush in its trunk and paints a picture. One could imagine Picasso, who famously said that artists spend years learning how to paint the way they did as little children, taking great delight in the piece. At auction, these paintings regularly sell for nearly $1000 US.

Just before half-time, Chivas breaks the 2-2 tie with a one-bounce slap shot all the way from the mid-line. A temple gong rings to signify time expiration, and the elephants leave the field for changing. One stops along the way and makes a deposit upon the grass, prompting a woman, covered in cotton from head to toe, to race out and scoop it up into a plastic bag from Big C Superstore. The players and mahouts dismount, and the elephants are led to an area just north of the end line, where they are fed piles of sugar cane. According to World Elephant Polo Association governing rules, established in 1982, "Sugar cane or rice balls packed with vitamins (molasses and rock salt) shall be given to the elephants at the end of each match and a cold beer, or soft drink, to the elephant drivers and not vice versa." Games consist of two, seven-minute chukkas or halfs. Fresh elephants are rotated in after the half, so they must exert themselves in the heat for only about ten minutes at a time. In bold, capital letters, the Thai Elephant Polo Association insists, "The health and welfare of the elephants used in TEPA tournaments is of prime concern. Abuse of the elephants is considered to be the most serious offence."

Dark clouds appear over the nearby mountains, blotting out the sun. You can see the rain, but it is not clear as to whether it will come this way. As the second half opens, a double rainbow spans the field, yet somehow we are all still dry. On their new elephants, Chivas runs away with the game. We pile back into Anantara vans and return to the comfort of the boutique resort.

Sunday, finals day, begins in elegant fashion with a jazz champagne brunch in the white Anantara tent. The Big Band, down from Bangkok, plays jazz standards and evokes the roaring forties. In striking contrast, the neighbouring pavillion, operated by the trendy nightclub Q-Bar, looks as modern as they come, the servers dressed for the evening in tight black tops revealing midrifts and sparking navel jewelry.

Morning features a number of consolation matches, including the Mullis Capital Cup for 11th place, the PricewaterhouseCoopers Cup for 9th place, the Nokia Cup for 7th place, and the American Express Cup for 5th place. After brunch, the games contine with the Anantara Gold Cup for 3rd place, followed by the King's Cup 2003 final. The tournament began back on Saturday, September 13th, and the whole week comes down to this one short match. A game that started as something of a lark just over twenty years ago in Nepal has blossomed into an international event. And while the primary goals remain good fun and the promotion of elephant conservation efforts, where men make games, the heat of competition burns fiercely. At one point, I witnessed a father-and-son team with their backs against the wall. The father from the sidelines shouted directions to his son, who whipped around, screaming, "WHAT!" The father paused, taken aback, before saying, "Don't speak to your father like that!" After another pause, he said, "Just win the match!"

Sadly, the gods of elephant polo were not in their favour, and the team fell, though later it heartened me to note that after the heat of battle had passed, all were cheerfully enjoying cold beers with the victors.

Rains begin just in time for the final two matches. Amazingly, a whole week of sun in the midst of rainy season, but the clouds refuse to hold off for this final afternoon. We huddle in the tents, to the joy of bartenders, and settle into the Anantara Gold Cup. Sandalford Wine of Australia takes on American Express Thailand in a lopsided game dominated by the Aussies.

The Finals begin with pomp and ceremony as the Thai Naval Band crosses the field, in the rain, in their dress whites. They stand to attention along the sideline, waiting. Now a caravan of Mercedes Benz limousines pulls up and the Royal Representative steps out, sheltered by a massive umbrella, to officially open the match. Just as the naval band launches into the Royal Anthem, composed by King Bhumiphol himself, rain falls in earnest, a true cloudburst so loud and ferocious we can barely hear the brass band. When the band finishes, they turn on their heels and walk back across the sopping wet field. The Royal Representative and his entourage settle into the VIP seats, their limos exit field left, and the elephants take the pitch.

You can tell the elephants like the rain. It's cool, and they enter battle with a zeal not present yesterday. This is a clash between the winners of the previous two King's Cups-Chivas in 2001, and the defending champion Mercedes Benz-but it seems the crowd is more behind Chivas, due perhaps to its smoother taste. While the elephants love the downpour, it brings the players little more than frustration. Angad Kalaan, the Chivas star, "The Dark Horse of Delhi," is famous for his long drives, like the one yesterday, which depend on the ball sailing forward then hopping off the ground and gaining further distance. In these conditions, however, the ball stops dead, half-submerged in the mud. Scrums are frequent. Mud is everywhere. Germany draws first blood. After a second goal in rapid succession, the glorious elephant rears up on his back legs, fanning the air with his front feet, nakedly humiliating Chivas. But this match isn't over. In the second chukka, when Chivas drives to close in at 3-5, the striker cheers wildly, swinging his mallet, ripping off his pith helmet in the rain. Momentum has shifted. The Benz team is clearly back on its heels. Another blistering shot by Chivas falls just wide. The remainder of the match is down at this end, Chivas pounding away but unable to break the impasse. Incapable of overcoming their handicap, they fall, in the pouring rain, to the German Benz team, the men who trained on the backs of cars.

Despite the rains, the tournament has been a great success. Not only have the players enjoyed good, friendly, and sometimes fierce, competition, the mahouts have given their all, leaving it all on the field, as they say in America. Most importantly, however, the Anantara succeeded in meeting its fund-raising goals for the National Elephant Institute and put on a beauty of a party. The King's Cup Elephant Polo Tournament, here in Hua Hin every fall, is open and free to the public, a sport and spectacle not to be missed.