Sport is replete with stereotypes and, among quintessential British society games, there is probably none more vulnerable to stereotyping than polo . . . the Jolly Soopah Riders variety which takes up almost half of one's back garden, dash it, and not splashing about in the pool.

During the past five years, though, David Dunbar has debunked the notion that it's only for well-heeled, spurred toffs. His company, Team Management International, organises the Festival Cup on Perth racecourse, one of Scotland's annual social events. Alongside the champagne corporate chums, the great unwashed are welcomed gratis, to watch, picnic, barbecue, and mingle.

But not just to spectate. Polo has been made accessible to the masses by introducing an amateur match, training players (some of whom had had never been on a horse before) to contest a pukka chukka as a warm-up to the international. The response was remarkable.

Those accepted for a rigorous training regime included a car park manager, a woman whose pre-polo riding experience had been on a seaside donkey, and a finance student who thought it ideal for pulling girls, "because of the numbers of gay men involved".

The match continues annually and they are on the look-out for fresh novices again.

Last year's teams included several women, and a male cross-section ranging from a cardio-thoracic surgeon to a plumber. The latter had riding experience, the former none.

Alan Kirk, a Glasgow surgeon, read an item in our sister paper, the Sunday Herald. "Something completely indefineable made me think: That's for me'. I'd done absolutely nothing on a horse. I'd been to St Anne's, and Blackpool on holiday, so as a child I'd been on a donkey. I'd pony trekked once on Arran, for half an hour - no lessons."

He had just celebrated his 50th birthday and jokes: "In many respects it was a mid-life crisis. My wife thought I was a silly old sod, and was going to kill myself."

Yet with dark nights retreating, he admits to withdrawal symptoms: "I might go back. I miss the exercise. Nothing will ever replace the intensity of it, and I'm still repaying on-call duties to colleagues who let me away.

"It's not an elite, rich man's sport. There are aspects of that, but the idea of it as toffee-nosed is ridiculous. We'd a day out at the Gold Cup at Cowdray Park, the sport's Ascot. There was the expensive corporate hospitality and people with Rolls Royces, but there were others sitting round about with their second-hand cars, picnic hampers and Tesco bags.

"Indeed, some colleagues here: secretaries, nurses, theatre staff and junior doctors, are planning to go up to Perth, because there's reasonably high-level polo throughout the season. They want to go up for the day and have a picnic.

"It's one of the most exciting things I've ever done, and I do exciting things. I took up sailing recently. My job - I get an adrenline rush, a buzz, every day - but playing polo really is one of the highlights . . . I lost a stone and a half, of which a stone has now gone back on."

Last year's cup was played in heavy rain, so Dunbar is taking this year's Scotland v England match indoors, to the 80 x 40 yards Gleneagles equestrian centre, on August 16. Outdoor pitches like those at Scone Palace are about 12 acres (a dozen football pitches) so it will be up-close and very personal: taste the riders' sweat, not just smell the ponies.

There is a pre-match, black-tie dinner for 220 guests in the hotel, but nearly 600 further seats in the auditorium at £25 per head, including admission to the post match party.

"An indoor tournament last year in Sheffield was very successful," said Dunbar.

The athleticism of the latest intake of novices maybe in question, but if you admire the co-ordination of such as Tiger Woods, bouncing a golf ball on the club head, consider Dolfi Cambiaso, doyen of the sport who plays before 40,000 crowds in his native Argentina. He does the same trick as Tiger, but with a polo mallet and ball. On horseback, at a flat-out gallop, before volleying the ball through the goal from upwards of 60 yards.