As soon as Margie Engle broke her leg in February, her entire focus became getting herself back into shape to qualify for the Olympic team, either through riding at the selection trials (p. 7) or by convincing the U.S. Equestrian Federation’s Selection Committee that she and Hidden Creek’s Perin deserved a spot on the team with their impressive international record. She made it to the trials and even recorded the fastest clear round in Round 1 on Perin, and then she withdrew, hoping the committee would use its limited subjective power to choose her.

But they didn’t, deciding instead to stick with the three horses and riders who’d topped the trials, along with Chris Kappler and Royal Kaliber, who had already received a bye, for the Olympics. We can debate until the end of time whether Engle should have been on the team. And, then, after Aug. 27, we can wonder, “What if?”

If the team of Kappler, Beezie Madden, Peter Wylde and McLain Ward should return home with the United States’ first gold medal in 20 years, I’m sure most people will quickly forget the contention over the Selection Committee’s decision. But should those four falter with a sub-par performance, everyone will wonder what could have been if Engle and Perin had been there. Hindsight is 20/20. Foresight isn’t as clear, unfortunately.

Interestingly enough, after covering the selection trials, I watched the Disney movie “Miracle,” about the 1980 U.S. Olympic ice hockey team. In an unusually pressure-filled atmosphere because the Winter Olympics were in Lake Placid, N.Y., 20 young amateur players upset the formidable Soviet Union, which had been unbeaten in decades, and then went on to capture the gold medal. The movie was testimony to their desire, heart and spirit. And it was about the tough decisions that their coach, Herb Brooks, had to make regarding who to put on the team and who to cut from it. It reminded me of all the furor over selecting our show jumping teams.

Watching “Miracle” also reminded me what the Olympics are about. They’re about rising above all obstacles in pursuit of that miracle, that moment that transcends all other sporting accomplishments.  Brooks could have just chosen 20 all-stars for that team. Instead, he chose the 20 players he thought would play the best together. He believed the adage that the whole is greater than the sum of its parts and favored teamwork and desire over individual accomplishments.

Take a moment to think about that. Making a U.S. equestrian team…quot;especially for the Olympics or the World Championships…quot;is about much more than individual goals and individual glory. While I’m not second-guessing the Selection Committee’s decision about Engle, I think that everyone…quot;everyone…quot;should ponder what exactly it means to wear the U.S. flag on his or her saddle pad.

The specter of threats, arbitration and lawsuits that so hamstrung the selection process in 1988 and 1990 might rear its head again. But I hope not. Tough choices and crushing disappointments are the flip side of moments of glory. And every year that a team is chosen, whether it be objectively or subjectively, many more riders will be disappointed than pleased.

As Linda Allen describes in her Between Rounds column (p. 25), team selection will always be in a process of evolution, of trying to fairly field our strongest teams. Let’s make the situation that developed this year into a learning experience and apply it to future selections. Looking forward might not be as crystal clear as looking back, but it’s certainly much more productive.