NavigumIsidis request more Hetaquestria (hetalia involving horses). So I wrote this... weird... thing about my childhood idol, Stroller the worlds most amazing pony.

"What the hell, England? This is the Olympics! Not some local pony show!"

"I am serious, and I will win."

The year was 1968, the place, Mexico, the event, the Olympic show-jumping. The top horses were walking out for examination by a vet but everyone's interest was on England and his horse.

Between huge, fancy warmbloods of European descent weaved a short, blond man leading what was, for all that he would contest, a pony. The animal was a fine proportioned bay gelding with a star and one small sock on it's rear left leg. Stroller, for that was the horse's name had a kind, bold face with large eyes, he also possessed a permanent look of determination. The overall impression from the tiny jumper was that he did not believe his lack of size, and, if he could have talked he may well have said, "I'm not small, I can jump just as well as these others!"

His rider was, to those that knew him well, a perfect match for Stroller, equally small, stubborn, overlooked and most of all, just as disbelieving of his own faults.

But they passed the vet check and, the very next day, warmed up for the biggest test of their existence, Olympic show-jumping...

The crowds were enamoured with the duo from the moment they trotted in, probably thinking that this was some sort of joke entry.

England saluted the judges and set off in a strong, forward going canter. As they approached the first jump he collected the pony in, shortening its stride and making use all four legs, just steps from the first jump, reins loosened and there was sudden acceleration before Stroller leapt, much like an aircraft on take-off, clearing the top rail with inches to spare. The public gasped, not expecting such ability from an animal that was jumping well over it's delicate little ears.

Glancing at the clock England realised he was going to get time faults at his current pace, he had to really gallop, the pony's small stature and short legs sadly being it's only downfall. He urged it on with his lower legs, elbows flying forwards as he gave the tiny superstar it's head. One small bay ear flicked sideways "You want speed! Here's speed!"

The hooves increased their thunderous tempo and the horse's body hunkered down, neck outstretched and nostrils going wide open. The assembled competitors glanced at each other, worried, trust that plucky Brit to do something this mad, and succeed!

But disaster was almost unavoidable at the speed with which the pair were moving, they came around the sharpest turn in the course, Stroller bracing his legs against slipping on the turf, England balancing sideways. The next jump was never going to be possible though, the courageous connemara putting in a valiant, but pointless, effort to clear the fence. He hit the top rail hard and it flew out of it's holder.

Every person viewing the round, be they British, French, American or whatever, groaned in despair, the second half of the double was never going to happen after Stroller had failed the first. He, again, went flat and dislodged the top bar. The competition was all over for England, eight faults put him far out of the individual medals.

As he vaulted off the horse several other nations ran up to him, "Angleterre, Je suis désolé." France murmured to his neighbour.

"Don't pity me France," the Brit replied curtly, "I did not come here today to win, though it would have been nice to bring Stroller back to his owners with a gold medal, I brought him here to prove a point."

"And what point is that?" America questioned.

England turned to him and answered, tone bitter, mind focused elsewhere "I brought him here to prove to some people that no matter how small you are, or what background you are from, if you believe, not in the impossible, but instead in the improbable, you can achieve amazing things."

Stroller was by a connemara pony out of a thoroughbred mare (presumably, his breeding was never recorded). he was imported to England by a dealer and eventually ended up in the hands of clever horseman Ralph Coakes, who's daughter, Marion Coakes took Stroller to junior show-jumping fame, but that was not enough, and she kept the pony and eventually rode him in international competition against some of the greatest names of the time. He was a courageous little creature with amazing self confidence.

(I just like him because he's almost identical to my jumping pony, Sparky!)

http :/ showjumpingnostalgia .com /wp-content/uploads/2010/10/Marion-Mould-Stroller-2. jpg