Diary of a Fiasco
How FEI and the Organizing Committee turned the World Equestrian Games Endurance Competition into a living hell.
Versão em Português / Version en Français
Preface
I will relate all the misinformation and disorganization that eventually led to the greatest fiasco in the history of Endurance World Championships. Before that, however, I must mention that all the volunteers and residents of the Tryon area were extremely helpful, kind and amiable. Every one of them tried to help — some, going beyond their own means. They showed extreme solidarity and took responsibility for problems that weren’t theirs. We experienced an amazing show of civility and sense of community.
04/09/2018 — The Horses’ Arrival
The truck carrying the horses from the Miami quarantine arrived at around 9:00 a.m. After making its way through the narrow, winding paths of the Tryon International Equestrian Center, circumventing tractors and cranes, it finally reached the last stables, where we were located. After disembarking, the horses weren’t allowed to walk over the grass, nor stretch their legs in the least, all thanks to USDA’s Piroplasmosis paranoia. They were sent straight to the stables after having taken two flights, a 14-hour truck journey and spending 7 days in quarantine. They would remain unable to move for at least another day.
As I watched USDA agents sterilizing the truck as if it had been exposed to the Ebola virus, I decided to grab a bale of hay before they rendered it unfit for consumption. This proved to be very useful, as we were about to find out that Tryon Center hadn’t yet received their stock of hay or feed (we weren’t allowed to bring our own) and no one seemed to know when the shipment was due. This was the first of many “I don’t know” we’d hear throughout our stay — a sort of mantra over there.
The second “I don’t know” would come shortly after: the grooms’ quarters weren’t ready and no one seemed to know when they would be. The Organizing Committee provided the grooms with hotel rooms — a 20-minute drive from the Tryon Center. After having shown the grooms to their new rooms, I headed to the hotel they’d arranged for me. It was located 25 minutes away from the Tryon Center, but in the opposite direction. In other words, it would take me 45 minutes to reach the grooms’ hotel.
05/09 — Misinformation
The grooms woke up to find a note had been slipped under their hotel doors: they must vacate their rooms — the Tryon Center lodgings were ready for use. If “I don’t know” became our mantra, misinformation was a constant throughout the trip and this was its first example: when we reached the center, we were told that the lodgings weren’t ready at all (but that they would be by the end of the day).
The horses were now allowed to walk in the training ring and could head to the tracks in the afternoon, but they could not graze nor come into contact with the grass, as if this alone would cause a nationwide outbreak of Pirioplasmosis in the USA.
Shortly after lunch, we learnt that they’d broken their promise: the tracks would remain off limits, the horses were restricted to the training ring. Their second promise — lodging for the grooms — was also broken, but this news would only reach us at around half past midnight, an hour after, tired of waiting, we’d reserved rooms in hotels for the grooms to spend the night in (to this day, I haven’t been reimbursed by the Organizing Committee).
06/09 — No lodging and no parking
When we arrived at the center by the morning we were surprised by a new rule: cars were no longer allowed to be parked near the stables. They didn’t tell us why this rule was implemented, nor how long it would be upheld (“I don’t know”). Even though we have coolers, loads of ice and multiple articles to unload, we are barred from driving through with our cars. We had to park about 2km away from the stables, only to walk all the way back, carrying all our belongings with us. Finally, a volunteer drives by in a golf cart and offers us a ride.
We imagine that this new rule was implemented to speed up the construction work that’s been going on all over Tryon Center — from the looks of it, nothing will be ready for the opening.
We did not receive encouraging news about grooms’ lodgings, only apologies and empty promises — they were going to build a new pavilion and so on and so forth…
07/09 — Even fewer parking lots — and a crane!
The parking lot is now off limits too. The new one is even further away from the stables — about 3 kilometers. And, worse of all, they never thought to tell us in advance: we were carrying an awful lot of mineral water because the horses were shying away from the faucet water and we didn’t want them to become dehydrated. Walking through construction work, we finally arrived at the stables, sweating profusely.
Getting there, a surprise: we now have a crane in front of the stables
08/09 — Lodging!
We were finally given the keys to the groom’s cabins. It is a small building with a bunk bed, air conditioning, a toilet and a shower. Simple but functional.
The horses are doing fine, although there have been some complaints about the air conditioning in the stalls being set at too low a temperature (probably to kill the ticks, which the USDA fears so much but weren’t there) and about all the zigzagging we have to go through in order to get some training done, a consequence of the ongoing construction work ant their circumventing concrete mixing trucks, heavy machinery tractors, etc.
The race is still some days off, but exhaustion is already setting in: the daily 3km trek between our cars and the stables — usually carrying something — is starting to take its toll. Now and then we get rides from volunteers in their golf carts, but we usually leave Tryon Center after the volunteers have already left, so walking is our only option.
09/09 — No parking at all
As soon as I wake up, I am informed that a Car Pass is needed in order to access the parking lot, which I was finally getting used to. To apply for the Car Pass, I am instructed to submit my passport and athlete credentials at the accreditation center. When I get there, a solicitous volunteer confirms this information and tries to help me. But all I get is bad news: they’d distributed too many car passes to the Endurance athletes and someone has “confiscated” the box in which they are stored. Where should I park? How do I reach the stables? “I don’t know”.
After speaking to five different people, waiting for calls that never came through, and protesting together with two other endurance athletes who found themselves in the same situation, I am given an alternative credential which supposedly allows me to access the parking lot. When I finally reach the parking lot, however, the security guard tells me that my new credential is exactly the same as my old one — i.e., I can’t use the parking lot. The guard, noticing I am on the brink of an angry outburst, suggests I take the dirt road that passes behind the Accreditation center and leads to a spot which is close enough to the stables. I drive down the dirt road and reach a parking lot assigned to trucks that are being used for the construction of the vet-check area. I finally park, even though a security guard comes up to me and tells me I’m not allowed to. I unload the 60 liters of water I’d brought with me and call someone to help me carry the water to the stables. After being rebuked by stewards and questioned by guards, I finally reach the stables.
10/09 — Moving Day
Weather reports showed that Hurricane Florence might hit Tryon in the next few days. As a number of stalls had already been flooded by last night rain, it was decided that we’d move the horses to new stables — concrete stables which are designed to stand against storms of greater magnitudes and are much sturdier than the temporary ones we’d been using.
Even though the race is only two days away, the transfer goes swimmingly. We pack everything up, the Organizing Committee provides us with forklifts and tractors for transportation and the new stable pavilion looks much better than the old one. I wish we could have used it from the start!
The funny thing is that, facing so many problems, the only one that the Organizing Committee was able to promptly deal with was also the only problem that was unpredictable and out of their control: a hurricane.
11/09 — Pre-vet and last minute calls
The initial vet check went smoothly, despite the usual disorder inherent to World Championships. There always a lot of people and a lot of horses in an event that occur only once (it is different from the annual courses, in which everyone already knows how things work or should be done, for example). It is true that trucks and tractors were still being driven near the horses and this, in itself, revealed the Committee’s lack of planning and blatant disregard for the event, but, in practice, we encountered no further serious problems during the initial inspection.
I might even say we’d gotten used to all those last minute changes, to the lack of information and the vague instructions: we would only be given the credential stickers for the support vehicles at the end of the day, and the particulars about the distribution of ice would only be announced on the morning of the race itself.
I heard a lot of people referring to the situation as “chaotic”. I disagree. Chaos has the potential to organize itself and it usually reaches a functional equilibrium of sorts. This wasn’t the case: our biggest problem was that the Americans implemented rules and restrictions which even they could not comply by, but demanded everyone else to. Thus, adapting to the situation was impossible. We couldn’t find the best way to do things or make things run smoothly, simply because the Organizing Committee wouldn’t allow us to — when things did end up working, they’d change the rules and procedures overnight, and everything would collapse back into dysfunction.
We were absolutely sure that the race was going to be an extremely complicated affair, but nothing prepared us for what came next.
12/09, 5:30 a.m. (all times are approximate) — Things get weird
I arrive at the Tryon Center and walk directly to the vet-check. If I stoped by the stables before, I would lose half an hour. We are told that the horses will only be allowed to leave the stables at 6:00 a.m., even though the race starts at 6:30 a.m. and the stables are 15 minutes from the start! Weird!
6:15 a.m. — Things get weirder
The horses arrive and we immediately mount them — after all, we’ve only got fifteen minutes before the race starts. We join the other riders and are directed to a narrow bridge. It is a dangerous location for a starting line, especially because the bridge lacks parapets.
We wait for the race to start. But the FEI official who’d directed us to the bridge, clearly distressed because of the confusing information coming from his walkie-talkie, conducts us back to the vet, whereupon we are once more redirected to the track we’d used for training. There we find the portal and starting line.
06:45 a.m. — Things get even weirder
The race begins! It was clear that there were fewer horses than it should— 124 horses had passed the initial inspection and for sure they were not all there. We ride around the cross-country lake, back towards the vet, whereupon we ride back down and cross the “pseudo-starting line” bridge. At the first crewing point we learn that the riders in the lead are 40 minutes ahead of us — we are part of a lucky group of 70 riders who’ve taken the wrong track. Reaching the next crewing area, we are told that there’d somehow been two different starting lines and that the same race had begun at different times at two different locations. The race would be canceled and a new one (120 kms) would take place, at a time to be determined.
9:15 a.m. — Certainties and Uncertainties
We finally get back. We had to wade through the mud produced by last minute construction work. I reached the vet-gate. My mare was lame. A slight but constant limp. It sucks, but this is the sport we chose. It’s terrible having gone through all that work, having carried all that weight, up and down, only to complete a single loop and having to quit. But it happens, we’re used to it, and the widespread disorder makes it less disheartening. Here’s another example of the disorganization that plagued the race: my mare was not sent to the vet hospital, as all horses that are eliminated from races should be. Even in the small details, or in those proceedings that are assured by Committees in big races, misinformation and lack of coordination prevailed.
Rumors circulated that the race would be canceled outright. The UAE team write a petition demanding the Endurance World Championship be rescheduled within a few months and be held, instead, in Europe — any costs would be paid by the Sheikh himself. 20 countries sign the petition, 4 don’t (Brazil among them).
The 120km race is rescheduled to start at 11:15 a.m. Those who completed the full loop complain that those who didn’t will have an advantage over them — they’ve ridden a smaller distance and have had more time to rest; those who rode along the smaller loop dislike the option because they ran it faster. The Emirate and Spanish teams are withdrawing from the race. Sheik Hamdan, who is supposed to re-present his horse, refuses to do so.
11:15 a.m. — The race begins (again)
With the Spanish and UAE teams back in the competition, together with everyone else (those who passed the vet exams), the 120km race begins, following the planned order of loops (in other words, starting from what would be the second loop). 30km along the yellow track, a new surprise at the vet-check: most horses are penalized and have to have their heart rates measured once more. Despite the intermittent rain, the heat is taking its toll on everyone.
The second loop of the new race (which would count as the third loop in the 160km circuit) is a real challenge: 40km in the sweltering heat, riding over fatiguing terrain (nothing out of the ordinary, but not exactly a plain level). Even after riding 70km, the rhythm is fast, with the Spanish and Uruguayan teams taking the lead. At the finish line, more penalizations, many of which result in eliminations because of increased heart rates.
When Sheikh Rashid — Hamdan’s cousin — crosses the finish line, the judge calls him in for a weight check. He refuses. His team proceeds to cool down the horse with water, whereupon they deliberately throw water at the judge! They vanish, saddle and all, and nothing comes of it, despite all the protesting and shouting. At the vet, his horse is eliminated from the race.
I tell Olavo that this is by far the most disorganized competition I’ll ever see, simply because I can’t imagine a worse scenario.
Juma, Alex Luque, Jean Philippe Frances, Maria, Omar and Pedro Marino head into the penultimate loop — the horses seem fine and the Brazilians are euphoric, given the performances of Komo and Moscou. The roughest part of race is behind them and the horses seem to be in good shape. Completing the race, well placed, seems feasible — they might even reach the other riders who have taken the lead.
5:00 p.m. — Blatant disrespect
We are informed that the hospital is filled to capacity as a result of the eliminations in the 40km loop. They lead us to believe that another pavilion will operate as a makeshift hospital.
Out the blue, we are informed that the race will be canceled. The French, Spanish, Brazilian and other countries’ chef d’equipes who are still in the race head to the vet to speak with the jury.
Ana Carla and 3 other French team members go to the 4th loop, even though they know it might be canceled.
A few minutes later, the loudspeakers announce the race’s cancellation due to climatic conditions and the excess of horses in hospital. Riders, grooms, vets and team members crowd together against the fence that separates the cooling area from the vet area. Persistent shouts of protest (“Shame! Shame! Shame!”). The possibility of an invasion seems very real.
Stewards and officials try to placate the angry crowd — this only makes things worse. The cops are called in. With police officers inside the vet area, the risk of an invasion is reduced, but the race’s organizational failure is made manifest. In endurance races — in which everyone knows each other, in which everyone is friends with everyone else, and everyone contributes to the event’s smooth running –, the presence of a police officer in the vet-check symbolizes that everything — absolutely everything — has gone wrong. The need for physical restraint indicates the Organizing Committee’s utter failure and blatant disregard for the event: a moral bankruptcy, as it were.
The three French team members, together with Ana Carla, return from the track. They head to the cooling area and enter the vet-check on horseback. The crowd goes wild and bursts out in applause, shouting words of protest against the FEI. The vets, motionless, watch the French team members galloping towards them, while the judges try to remove them from there.
When Juma, Alex Luque and Pedro Marino ride in, the scene repeats itself. The endurance community is united in their plight against the Organizing Committee’s excessive hostility. From the riders I perceive frustration for having their dreams so rudely interrupted and anger and disappointed with Organizing Committe, but I can also see proud in their faces, thanks to their horse’s performances and how exemplarily they rode the race. As a rider myself, I understand both feelings: that of seeing years of effort going unrecognized and that of an independent, personal victory, despite official recognition.
Postscript
In situations like this, it is difficult to tell good intentions from cheap opportunism. Was the Arabs’ proposal to host the World Championship in Europe an act of good will or an attempt to undermine the FEI’s influence by bringing the management of the games within their purview? On the other hand, the decision not to cancel the race in the first loop, following so many reckless mistakes, seems to be more of a political gamble by the Organizing Committee (in order not to admit their mistakes) rather than a technical decision. The political gamble, one must note, was a failure, and led to twice as many problems.
I don’t personally believe in conspiracy theories such as the Sheik buying off the Committee in order to cancel the race, or somehow causing it to be cancelled. It seems to me like a simplistic explanation to a rather complex situation, consisting of variables and multiple individuals — many of which would love to share this information. It is evident that if Sheikh Handam were still racing, the decision might not have been the same, but this is very different from claiming he ordered the race to be canceled.
So, what does the future hold for endurance riding and endurance World Championships? People are speculating about the establishment of a new organization, unrelated to FEI. This would send them — arrogant and incompetent as they’ve shown themselves to be — a strong message, but, at the same time, it seems to me like we’d be handing over the sport to those who already bought everything they could (or couldn’t). Perhaps the FEI itself might want to take a step back and remove endurance riding from the WEGs, as its interaction with other disciplines is so difficult. There are a thousand simple solutions, but those that really work are yet to come. And, if and when they do, they’ll be a consequence of diligent discussions.
Update
In the statement about the death of the New Zealand’s horse Barack Obama FEI took advantage of the fact to strengthen their understanding that the right decision was made. FEI’s behavior is opportunist, simplistic, cynical and lieful. It tries to shorten the discussion to the cancelation of the ride on the 4th loop, when in fact the question is about the whole proceeding of the OC before the course and after the 1st loop too. If the horse’s death tell us something is that FEI made a lot of mistakes when planning the ride and when decided not to cancel it after the 1st loop (the horse died, after all!). Canceling the ride on the 4th loop neither protected the horses that weren’t fit to it (almost all of them had already been eliminated on the 3rd vet) nor respected the riders who had overcome so many challenges and were in the edge of conquering such an important result.
The statement also classifies the weather as unexpected, which is a flat out lie: months before the course everybody knew the weather would be hot and humid, as is typical for the region and time of the year. Even worse: it was the FEI itself who defined the quantity of phases (5) and that we would have an atypically long 3rd loop (40kms). This time they are not allowed to say “I didn’t know”!
