Newport, Rhode Island July 1897 Bits of grass and earth pelted the air as a thunderous pounding rolled down the polo field. Long-handled mallets swung after a ball no larger than a man’s open palm. Each time a mallet connected with the ball, ponies and riders raced in a fresh, ground-shaking burst of speed. With my pencil and tablet in my hands, I stood just beyond the sidelines, out of danger of being hit with the ball yet with a view worthy of the highest-paying spectators.