Olympic inspiration. For riders?

In the past two weeks, Lizzie Armitstead and Bradley Wiggins may well have inspired a nation to take up cycling and experiment with sideburns. Bike shops around the country prepare for the onslaught while Gillette sales plummet. Meanwhile, should Britain’s eventers win medals on Tuesday, how many watching will be inspired to saddle up, let alone don a top hat?

No, horse riding isn’t cheap. By comparison, you can buy a bike in Tesco for 50 quid and hop on without the need for an instructor. (That said, whoever coined the phrase: “It’s like riding a bike”, doesn’t have a Boris cycle rack outside their office – watching Suits attempt to recall the technique is entertainment gold.)

I digress. About the money. In the current climate, you probably could pick up a horse for £50 – tragically. But, you’d easily spend £50 a week keeping him in food and good health. And of course riding lessons cost a fortune, too – it isn’t so in parts of Europe where governments subsidise riding schools rather than inflicting ludicrous rates on their arenas.

But where there’s a will there is a way – I wasn’t the only 11-year-old mucking out 10 horses of a Sunday to secure a lesson at the riding school. What worries me is the lack of inspiration for that “will”.

More non-horsey Brits rocked up to watch eventing dressage in Greenwich today than have ever seen the sport in the past. I know the Olympics are first and foremost about sporting excellence, but this was a mint opportunity to inspire future riders – not even to win medals, but for all the health (both physical and mental) benefits equines offer – and gain supporters – who wouldn’t go amiss given that there are plenty, Mr Jacques Rogge included, who wouldn’t be sad to see equestrianism drop off the list of Olympic disciplines.

I wasn’t at the Games today, but I know plenty of ticket holders attending who were there purely because it was something for which they managed to get tickets. They didn’t have the faintest clue what was going on. And it wasn’t made clear to them. Horse & Hound eventing editor Pippa Roome was asked things like whether seven was the highest score (read her blog here: http://bit.ly/MURcEu). Why wasn’t this, at least, explained to the myriad uninitiated? (It’s 10).

First impressions? “It’s all very ‘in’,” one friend said. “Like a private club. One you have to be royalty or double-barreled to get into.” Huge sigh.

At no other event are the audience asked Not to support the athletes, either. “Don’t cheer, it’ll upset the horses. Shhhhhh.” Come on! Can you really ask a non-rider to entertain that notion? It just adds to the unwelcoming environment, even when it’s coming from someone as lovely as Mary King. Keep stuffing that cotton wool in horses’ ears under those fly-hats – which, incidentally, should totally be allowed at all times, governing bodies – and get on. These riders are clearly of a caliber that they can instill their horse with enough confidence and ensure he is listening to their aids to the degree that he doesn’t notice mumbling or moving crowds.

As for those watching at home, well they weren’t told to pipe-down, but they were none the wiser for the commentary. I don’t know if the BBC’s policy is just to assume a knowledgeable audience in equestrianism, but whereas I’ve had archery and swimming explained to me over the past few days, non-equestrian pals are still at a loss as to what happens in a dressage test. At one point commentator Mike Tucker asked Ian Stark to explain what he meant by a comment. Ian replied, joking admittedly: “Ooo, you’re cruising there.” “Cruising”? You’re telling me that as a commentator, you believe your fellow commentator is being trixsy by asking you to explain a criticism of a horse’s movement? Shouldn’t it have been clear enough in the first place? If it weren’t, I’d be falling over myself to explain it.