and always seemed to ask: “And? What are we doing next?” He did not have to rely on anyone else but did his own thing, as if it was his mission to take me along for the ride, and not vice versa. This attitude was so prevalent in his younger years that I could hardly channel his energy.
Those who experienced Gigolo, boiling over with energy on the first day of a competition, could hardly believe that he would be able to show a dynamic-yet-relaxed Grand Prix one or two days later. He did not buck, he did not resist the tasks. He just became so hot, so charged up on energy, that he could hardly be controlled.
Gigolo’s eagerness to work and go forward was so overpowering that, at one point, he just didn’t know which leg to move first. It seemed to me as if he was constantly urging me to “get going already”…it was always, “Come on, come on, let’s go, let’s go, let’s go forward!” He was hyper-motivated. Ready to work through and through. Nothing interested him but the movements that he was about to perform.
Gigolo still had this spirit well into his twenties. Sometimes he was brought in from the field to have his mane neatened or to have a bath, and he would suddenly start to piaffe right in the aisle. He would look around as if to say: “Let’s go! Start the music, please!”
It only became clear to me after a lot of experiences with other horses just how lucky I was to have had Gigolo. To be able to ride such a forward-thinking horse right at the beginning of my career was incredible. I never had to encourage him. My task was mainly to handle his vivacity without taking the fighting spirit out of him.
It is one of the most important feats of riding dressage: To bring the horse, an animal always ready to flee, into an inner state where he can develop his full potential and yet does not lose his head. Nature plays a role here: When in a state of excitement, a horse performs the same types of movements that were eventually cultivated by the sport of dressage. That is the reason why, in best of cases, a world-class Grand Prix test resembles the metaphorical “ride on a razor blade.” Gigolo and his rider were really well suited for each other—two offensive players, both always ready to risk everything.
The days of Gigolo were the times of new beginnings; Isabell did not know setbacks yet. Her career moved forward with rapid speed, and as strong and unclouded as her self-confidence was, she did not think about what might go wrong. She simply shrugged off falls from her young, wild horses and did not think about potential consequences. She did not yet have the responsibility of her own business, nor was she a parent. Back then, she did not think about whether it might be safer to longe an excited, barely controllable horse before riding so he could let off some steam. No…it was simply up, up, and away!
Isabell learned how to handle Gigolo’s personality at shows. It did not work to drill him in an hour of warm up right before her class—he lost his freshness and motivation. It was better to work him in the morning to get some of the freshness out; then, she only warmed him up for half an hour, and he brought all his joy of movement into the dressage ring.
One of my most cherished memories when I think about Gigolo is from the dressage stadium in Aachen. It was pouring and the sand ring was flooded. Deep puddles mirrored the cloudy sky, especially in those places where I had planned to ride my most tricky, most difficult movement during my Freestyle: the transition from extended canter to pirouette. Any other horse would perhaps have tried to avoid the puddles. But Gigolo said, “Yeah!” He was not to be deterred from his moment to perform, and he slammed through the water in canter with such fervor that water splashed everywhere. He did not have to “hold himself together” like some horses might have—he loved it.
Gigolo loved water in every form. He taught all his stall neighbors at home how to dunk their hay into their water first, before munching it in delight. When he was not playing with water, he was constantly active in his stall, tinkering and pottering around. His door had to be secured with a special latch because he was so clever that he managed, again and again, to pry open the old bolt and escape.
When Isabell first found Gigolo and he found her, on that life-changing day in Warendorf, she was far from thinking about success and medals. Her first goals were all about developing him for the sport of dressage. However, it can safely be assumed that Dr. Schulten-Baumer already had the podium in view. He thought big and had always wanted one thing only: major international success. Dr. Schulten-Baumer spared Gigolo, so eager to learn, all the steps that one usually takes with a young horse—all the youngster shows and championships. He was only interested in the High School movements, the maximum level of difficulty that is required at the very top of the international sport.
And Dr. Schulten-Baumer’s plan paid off. Gigolo developed rapidly, competing in his first Grand Prix in 1990, at the age of seven. (Participation in the Grand Prix at that age would not be permitted according to today’s regulations.) In 1991, at the age of eight, he won his first European Championship title. Isabell is particularly proud that he would eventually go to the Olympic Games ten years later, at the “old” age of seventeen, and win gold and silver. It shows that she and Dr. Schulten-Baumer did not wear him out with so much time in a high-performance sport. It also shows how tough Gigolo was. He only had to pause his career due to an injury once in his life.
Isabell’s international career started with a thirteenth place at the European Championships in the Luxembourg resort town of Mondorf-les-Bains in 1989. She was aboard Weingart, her “schoolmaster” who was helping her learn to handle the most difficult tasks. Two years later, with Gigolo, she dashed gaily to their first great success. You could tell, from that moment on, she was a young woman who took on the world. No matter what happened, she would ride like she had nothing to lose.
Back then I was coming from my family farm, with some local competition experience in riding from A to B. And suddenly, I could see the great wide world out there. That was just incredible for me. And that’s exactly how I rode. I have always been competitive, but there was no pressure. I only wanted to show that I knew how to ride. Dr. Schulten-Baumer supported and pushed me and had a lot of fun doing it.
The 1991 European Championships in Donaueschingen, Germany, offered a very special showdown: Two nice, young women smiled at each other—and then fought each other, tooth and nail. Twenty-four-year-old Nicole Uphoff came as the “established one,” having been crowned Olympic Champion in 1988, and World Champion with Rembrandt, the elegant bay horse she now rode, just one year before. And Isabell Werth, age twenty-two, was the parvenu on young Gigolo. Both were quite unusual pictures in dressage, a sport that, until that moment, was considered something of a pastime for old rich folks who liked to fabricate secret intrigues, talk about each other badly behind the scenes, and outdo each other’s presents to officials. A battle between two young up-and-comers? That was new. And full of piquancy: Nicole Uphoff, a former student of Dr. Schulten-Baumer, in a duel with Isabell Werth, his rising star.
Already the team competition, where the Germans won the gold medal (obligatory at the time), could hardly be recognized as being about a “team”: Certainly, there were four pairs competing “together” for a medal. Besides Isabell and Nicole, there was the “mounted policeman,” Klaus Balkenhol, with Goldstern, as well as Sven Rothenberger, aboard Andiamo. Yet, the Grand Prix came to a head as a duel between the two young ladies from the same team, who both looked as if they had just outgrown the “horse-girl” stage but fought for the lead as if they were lieutenants of the cavalry.
In the team competition, Nicole had to deal with the moods of her genius Rembrandt. He spooked at the television cameras, which, as would always be incomprehensible to him, moved when he passed them, and he jumped around skittishly. Isabell, on the other hand, carefree with her forward Gigolo, laid down an almost flawless test—only a little slip in the flying changes disrupted the perfect picture. She beat the champion by the fraction of eight points (back then, results were not converted to a percentage). Thus, the metaphorical gauntlet had been thrown down before the individual competition, taking place in the Grand Prix Special the following day.
Nicole vowed that she would get her nervous gelding under better control. Her expression darkened. She seemed to think about nothing else but her next performance and the question of how to derail