Picking Great Dressage Horses Is Very Different Than Training and Teaching.

As a young dressage professional and showing Grand Prix, I felt that the hard work I had put into my riding education was paying off. And with that newly found success, came a bit of self-confidence. I remember being irritated about the then powers-that-be who were unwilling to fast-track some of the current top riders through the judging licensing program even though the country really needed more good judges. Those of us who had gotten a lifetime of dressage education from some of the world’s best trainers, and had proven ourselves in the show ring and produced other riders - we felt insulted and dishonored being made to sit with our entry level students, and even students of our students in endless judging forums. 

Looking back, some of that angst was justified and I’m sure many more of my generation of FEI riders would now be filling the judges boxes had things been different. But some of that angst was my own arrogance. I failed to realize that judging is a very separate skill than training and teaching. Yes, there is a lot of knowledge overlap, but it is a very separate skillset and there is a lot of knowledge (and basic competency) I didn’t have and would need to work long and hard to attain. I was only half-right. 

And I had another blind spot in my competency as a celebrated rider; my ability to pick a great dressage horse. I thought I had several nice horses in my barn that might one day replace my USET listed horse, Graf Goetz. I was wrong. I didn’t work hard enough at a succession plan and in the end, that was one of the things that was career ending for me as a competitor.

I might know what you’re thinking at this point. You’re wondering if Steve had money to buy a great horse, and my response might surprise you. Not really, but in the end, the problem wasn’t money. 

As a celebrated rider, some wealthy people came together and bought me a beautiful black stallion for my next team horse. If I knew then what I knew now, I would never have allowed this horse to be my sponsors’ choice. He was a breathtaking mover and he had amazing and flamboyant gaits. In fact, I got the high-score of the entire show at the Palm Beach Derby riding third level under Edgar Hotz on this stallion. (Usually the highest score is earned at the easier test levels; training or first level). But in spite of that early success, this horse was never going to go the distance or be a team horse. If I knew then what I know now, I would have recognized that.  

He had a slow hind leg, especially in the collected trot and canter. His overall technique was not easy to work with. His reaction from the leg wasn’t to lower his hind end and push uphill. In fact, it was quite the opposite. 

When Robert Dover initially saw him, he said, “if you get this horse to Grand Prix, it will be an amazing testament to your talent as a rider.” He meant it as a polite way of telling me I hadn’t made a good choice, but in my cocky arrogance I took it as a challenge. I did train that horse and when I stopped riding him (due to health reasons), he was well-started in all the Grand Prix movements. His gaits were fabulous and after 10,000 transitions, he moved uphill. But, at what cost? It was not fun at all, for me or that horse. What if I had been on a truly gifted horse?

Training this stallion was hard on me, physically and emotionally. It may be why my body eventually broke down. That horse was neither generous or happy to work and I went through a career ending depression which I’m convinced affected my health. My naive confidence in my ability to pick a good horse and to train any horse was my downfall. I felt ashamed to tell my generous sponsors we had made a very expensive bad choice, but when the horse eventually developed lameness issues, I had no choice. The years spent riding that difficult horse were hard on me emotionally because I felt trapped. I had to ride this horse that was really, really difficult. The entire situation made me look bad as a trainer because that’s what bad horses do to trainers, make them look bad. 

During those difficult career years, I began taking more trips to Europe and became increasingly committed to developing my eye for a good horse. By 2001, having stopped riding altogether, I was traveling there monthly with customers. I learned bloodlines inside and out, what they produced, how they behaved, and how likely they were to accept training at higher levels. Rideability and temperament is passed onto offspring more predictably than movement or conformation, so this type of knowledge was a great asset in helping people decide what to buy. 

I learned the tricks of the trade horse sellers use and how to protect buyers. I learned the lay of the land in Europe and who to work with (and who to avoid). I learned a lot about how to spot horses that would work out over time and how to uncover the right information. I learned what to expect from certain bloodlines and whether you want certain lines in the father’s or mother’s bloodline. 

My background as a Grand Prix rider and trainer was extremely helpful, but being in Europe every month for the better part of 10 years was an incredible educational experience in a specific area of expertise: finding great horses, ones that would go the distance. 

This was an entirely different education and expertise than I had earlier in my career. 

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This post is the opinion of Steven Wolgemuth at the time of publication. If you have ideas you'd like to contribute to this article, a question, or even a disagreement, please share them with Steve. Together we make one another better.

This post is copyright by the author 2024. No reproduction of any part is permitted without expressed permission.