POLO IN THE PARK. Polo season is galloping to a halt at Bethpage State Park on Long Island, but there's still time to catch a match on Sunday afternoons at 3 p.m.

I've visited the polo grounds regularly this summer. As I watched the horses charge back and forth over the vast green expanse, my appreciation of the game — and its language — grew. The announcer tends to call hard-struck balls "scorchers" and "wormburners." Halfway through the game (usually between the third and fourth "chukka"), members of the crowd (such as it is) wander onto the field to stomp the "divots" where the horses have torn up the turf. Then there are some of the player names — especially Max Constant and Nick Manifold. (I imagine that, when they're not playing polo, they're working for some sort of spy agency.)

Last Sunday the electricity was out, so the announcer didn't have his PA system set up. This helped me to focus on how the four-player teams tend to form front-to-back formations (as opposed to side-to-side, or wing, formations). It took a number of matches for me to pick up on that polo basic. But there's one thing I don't think I'll ever figure out: How in the world do they get the horses to play in a pool?

Blurry Photo: David Marc Fischer