Success, Failure and ‘The Gates to Brilliance’

 

Going Off Course – The Art of Failure

When I moved to Germany in 1986, it was in the dead of winter after what for me was an enormous failure — placing thirty-seventh that summer at the World Championships in Toronto. I had received an incredible invitation that seemed too good to be true from Olympic Gold medalist Gabriela Grillo, to come to her farm with my horse Federleicht. Gabby had extended the invitation to David, my boyfriend at that time, and also a dressage rider. We could live for practically nothing in one of the two gatehouses on her estate, and she helped us secure stalls for the five other horses, owned by clients, who came with me on this great adventure. It seemed fortuitous that I had just won the spot to compete in the upcoming World Cup Finals in Essen, Germany, which was to take place a couple of weeks after our arrival. With such a perfect plan and such goodwill behind me, how could I not succeed?

After a very long day, flying with seven horses and our two Jack Russell Terriers, Half-Halt and Pirouette, overseas, we arrived in the town of Mülheim an der Ruhr, about an hour outside of Düsseldorf, in the middle of the night. Unfortunately, the van driver could not find the Grillo farm. (In 1986, there were no cell phones with GPS.) We rode up a number of long and winding driveways that ended up being the wrong address before finally stopping at the entrance of the Red Cross, where the driver asked for the directions to Stal (Stables) Grillo.

David and I were exhausted as we unloaded the equally tired animals, along with equipment, feed, hay, and basically all of our belongings, into the barn aisle. We did as we were directed through our interpreter (the driver) and at the command of Stallmeister (Stable Master) Luke, who we had not-so-gently awakened with our late arrival. Once the horses were set for the night, Meister Luke sent us with our driver and personal belongings back to one of the two identical gatehouses near the front entrance of the farm. However, unlike the perfectly furnished and appointed home across the driveway—which Gabby used for her trainer, General Paul Stecken, when he came each week to teach her—our apartment was almost completely devoid of furniture, save for a mattress on the floor in one bedroom and a small television with antenna “ears” to catch the three channels available in Germany at that time. Still, it was warm, had cold and hot running water, and was to be our home for the foreseeable future. I was determined to learn how to be a “winner” in the biggest arenas of the world and had made a commitment to myself that I would not return to America until I had succeeded in doing so. I did not care how long it might take or how much I would have to sacrifice; I was determined.

The morning after our arrival, having fed and taken care of our horses, we met up with Gabby, who greeted us with a hug and took us to her home, otherwise known as “Landhaus Grillo,” to meet her mother. The house reminded me of a set from the prime-time soap opera Dynasty—sort of a less-antiquated version of a castle. Frau Grillo was sitting in a beautiful, wing-backed chair, her hair silver-blue and pulled back in a knot. She welcomed us, said she hoped we would enjoy our time in her country, and announced that this would be the last time we heard English, so if we wished to keep eating, we would need to learn German.

Over the next ten days, I prepared for the World Cup Finals with the help of Gabby and General Stecken. To be honest, I probably gained the most information from Stallmeister Luke, who had spent decades grooming and being the eyes on the ground for Gabby and others before her. For sure, Gabby and the General watched Federleicht and me and had valuable pointers, but Meister Luke would do his best to convey in slow German and hand signals that my horse needed to be more through and on the aids and forward-thinking through my tests. As much as I was trying to make my horse more electric, he just felt listless and unlike himself, and I was alarmed when I came into the barn and saw that Feder’s legs were all very swollen from the knees and hocks down to his feet. I immediately asked the number for the vet, but again, Meister Luke came to the rescue, explaining that he saw such behavioral and physical changes all the time when horses came in from a different climate and their grain and hay was changed.

Sure enough, Feder was back to normal a couple of days later. Normal…but still not forward-thinking or electric enough to be brilliant. When we competed in the World Cup Finals, we landed in eleventh place out of the thirteen riders entered.

Failure!

The following week, General Stecken took me aside, with Gabby standing by, and told me that I would never be able to do my horse justice, and that the best thing I could do for Federleicht was to sell him to Gabby so that she could bring him to his potential. I was devastated to stand before this great trainer and hear him say that I was not good enough for the horse I had trained since he was three years old and on whom I’d represented my country. Holding back tears, I told the General that I had already entered several spring shows, in which I and my student, Hector Rodriguez of Colombia, were planning to compete.

“If I don’t do any better by the end of our spring tour,” I said, struggling to compose myself, “I will sell Federleicht to Gabby.”

 

With that, General Stecken and Gabby walked away, and I finally broke down and quietly cried in a way I thought would go unnoticed, but Meister Luke had been listening around the corner and gave me a look that said, “Pull yourself together. It’s going to be all right.”

Over the next few days, I trained with Meister Luke on the side, saying, “Good!” or “Again!” and after a week, things really felt better. I also had the great fortune to meet a young lady named Petra Kasseberg (later, Hofmann), who rode at Gestut Eschenbruek, where I kept the other horses I had brought to Europe. She had heard I was looking for help to take with me on my “European tour” (the series of competitions I’d entered with the intent of gaining international experience and recognition) and was very enthusiastic about coming with me. I explained that I was pretty poor, even though people who did not know me thought that my being in Europe with seven horses must be evidence that I was born into great wealth like so many others in my sport. Petra didn’t care—she bubbled with enthusiasm and said she would help me with everything and anything I needed. She began grooming for me the next day and quickly became my “Number One”: She was a super ground person and trainer, seeing as she was a Bereiter—a certified horse trainer and riding instructor in Germany. In other words, Petra was way overqualified for the job, but it seemed she liked me right away, just as I liked her, and was determined to go on this adventure with me.

I was gaining confidence daily as my student Hector Rodriguez, his wife Diana, and I set off on my first major European tour. Petra rode in the van with the horses to ensure all were safe and taken care of on the road. We had chosen three shows that would start in Lipica, which was in the former Yugoslavia (now Slovenia) and where the famous Lipizzaner stallions truly came from (a fact I had not known). The show was actually held at the Lipizzaner Stud Farm, which dated back to the fifteenth century and still bred pure Lipizzaners and trained their riders to perform for the public, just like the Spanish Riding School in Vienna.

Federleicht and I placed third in the Grand Prix in Lipica, which was a major boost to my confidence. I had been working very hard on the basics with him and it carried over into the show arena, as it should. The following day, in the Special, we placed third again, out of thirty-two combinations! The class was won by Christine Stückelberger, the famous Swiss rider who had won Olympic Gold and many medals since the early seventies. Suddenly, I began to feel a sense of assuredness flooding through me, and with it came both relaxation and increased drive to be not second, but the winner! Christine, however, had been a great champion for over a decade, and there was no way the next day that anything would stop her. Federleicht and I ended in second place in the Freestyle (the test to music). I was so proud, not only for proving to myself and others that I was, in fact, an international rider on my way up, but that I was also a promising coach, having trained Hector, who placed a very respectable ninth in the class. My happiness grew as I made new friends from various countries, who now no longer looked down on me as “that stupid American rider” but rather showed admiration for my skills and harmonious connection with my beloved Feder.

 

On the last day of the show, the head judge, Wolfang Niggli of Switzerland, strolled up to me as I was standing on the hill overlooking the arena one last time and said, “Robert, I have to compliment you on your new Freestyle. Everything about it, from the choreography to the music, is so much better than what you did a month ago at the World Cup Finals! Well done!”

I was quiet for a second before replying, “Thank you very much, Mr. Niggli.”

As I walked back to the barn to pack up in preparation for our next competition, I smiled. You see, I had not made one single change to my Freestyle since the World Cup, including the music and choreography! I had made so much real headway in the last few weeks that Feder’s fluid and mistake-free ride to the exact same music was unrecognizable.

What happened after my Lipica results led me to two observations: First, being technically correct and showing the confidence that stems from having really done your homework makes others gravitate toward you in very positive and sometimes rather remarkable ways. Second, music, dressage, and art in general, being subjective, can create a situation in which being “in sync” with the rhythm and “harmonious-looking” is all you need to earn high scores. I used to say that I could take a trash can lid and a stick to beat out a rhythm, and as long as I hummed a few notes while riding a clean test exactly to the rhythm of my pounding, the judges would say they loved my music. That has changed to a degree over time as more judges have become better educated, but it is still up to each to decide if he likes one piece of music over another and if he feels it fits the horse and rider being judged.

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