Multi-taskability. No scribe just sits there and writes. You orchestrate. You check that the number on the next rider matches the name and number on the lineup and on the front of the test in your hand. (I always turn the test over and write the number in the upper right-hand corner, too.) You remind the judge of which class and test she's judging and when both change--there's nothing worse than knowing it's your fault that she incorrectly rang somebody off course. You mark errors. And you check how to do it before starting because, in spite of the rules, every judge is different. Some want errors marked in red; black is fine with others. Some want the word "error" written on the movement; others want the minus number in the right-hand margin. Some want YOU to carry rerrors down to the totals; others want to do it themselves; still others say that's the scorekeeper's job.
You hand the completed, signed test to the runner (surreptitiously checking for the judge's signature on the front). When the judge starts to look faint--judging is devilish hard work--you ask the runner to bring a Power Bar. You may, once in a blue moon, get to express your opinion. ("A 6," said one judge. "Or 7. What do you think?") You will be appreciated. (After I calmly executed our first test together--the 32-movement Prix St. Georges--with nary a fluff or bobble, the visibly relieved judge, who didn't know me from Adam, turned and gave me a jubilant high-five because she knew we were gonna be A-OK.) And sometimes...oh joy...when the judge is busy finishing her written remarks, she may ask you to ring the bell for the next ride.
Now, what's not to like about that?
This column originally appeared in the October 2002 issue of Practical Horseman magazine. If you're interested in reading or calling a dressage test for a rider--another volunteering option Kip mentions here-- see judge Janet Brown's explanation of how to be a helpful and effective caller in the January 2008 issue.
