e has been part of almost every Belgian campaign for more than a decade, but no one buys a plane ticket hoping to see him become the man of the weekend. Frederik Bruyninx is the veterinarian of the Belgian showjumping team. The one who knows the horses, monitors their locomotion, prepares the major appointments and sometimes has to say the words no one wants to hear. His best show? Horses in top shape, a medal if possible, and his vet bag left closed.
Stand beside him.
Not in the stands. Down below. At the edge of the arena, or in that strange little aquarium of emotions known as the kiss and cry at a major championship.
A Belgian enters the arena.
Around Frederik Bruyninx, bodies instinctively move closer. A groom takes half a step forward. Someone crosses their arms. Peter Weinberg does not take his eyes off the arena. An owner tries to look as if he is breathing normally.
The bell rings.
And for around 80 seconds, all those people are going to watch exactly the same horse.
But not necessarily see the same thing.
A rail moves.
A small collective jolt.
It stays in the cups.
Everyone breathes.
The horse turns towards the double. Three fences left. The clock is ticking somewhere on a screen. At that moment, most of the people there are thinking about the clear round, the ranking, the Nations Cup, the podium or that damn qualification that needs to be secured.
Frederik too. Obviously.
He is Belgian, not a Buddhist monk.
But behind his round glasses, there is a second match going on.
landing. The symmetry of the feet. A stride.
The way the horse rebalances. Its general attitude.
Then the final rail arrives.
Zero.
Shoulders relax around him. Smiles break out. Sometimes, there’s even a round of applause. The rider crosses the finish line, raises a fist and heads back towards the exit.
Frederik, meanwhile, is still watching.
Because for him, the round doesn’t really end at the finish line.
How does the horse come back? How is he placing his feet? How is he recovering?
And tomorrow morning, how will it come out of its box?
Welcome to Frederik Bruyninx’s competition.
A competition in which the best possible result sometimes consists of having nothing to do.
Above all, Fred, do nothing
On peut passer une semaine entière à le croiser autour des pistes sans vraiment savoir ce qu’il fait. Et c’est plutôt bon signe.
Frederik appears at the edge of the warm-up. Disappears towards the stables. Reappears in the kiss and cry. Exchanges a few words with Peter Weinberg. Watches a horse walk. Then returns near the arena.
Nothing spectacular. No siren. No white coat floating in the wind.
And above all, if everything goes according to plan, no intervention.
« Normally, I always hope I don’t have to do anything. Then my show has gone really well. »
Here is a man capable of returning from a championship delighted to have been almost useless.
Try explaining that to your boss on Monday morning.
But with Frederik, the less the vet bag opens, the better Belgium is doing.
Because the day he stops being the man with the round glasses quietly observing from the edge of the arena, the atmosphere can change very quickly.
A horse is not walking exactly as usual. A recovery raises questions.
Colic. An injury.
Or that question, enough to lower the temperature by a few degrees in a stable in the middle of August:
“Is he still fit to compete?”
And then everything that surrounded Frederik a few minutes earlier comes back into the room.
The rider. Peter Weinberg. The owner. The groom.
Months of preparation.
A selection. Perhaps a medal.
And a horse in the middle.
« These are the cases where there is a problem, where we have to make a decision. Is the horse still fit to compete? Are we going to let him start or not? These are big decisions, because telling a rider that it is better not to jump is certainly a big disappointment. But we always look at what is best for the horse. »
At that moment, Frederik is no longer the one nobody notices in the photo.
He is precisely the one everyone is looking at.
And the rule does not move.
The horse first. The scoreboard second.
A vet “around the church”
And yet, the career plan did not necessarily include the Olympic Games, European Championships and Nations Cups.
At the start, Frederik Bruyninx simply wanted to do his job properly.
« Honestly, I had more of a dream: to become a good veterinarian. That was it, as we say, around the church, for all kinds of cases. »
Except that around the church, in the Bruyninx family, there were already quite a few horses.
His father was a rider, a dealer and had stallions. Frederik therefore grew up in the stables long before imagining that one day he would spend a large part of his life monitoring the horses of the Belgian team.
He rode too.
Ponies first, then a little on horses.
With his brother and a stable at home, there was no shortage of opportunities.
But something never quite clicked.
« My brother and I both had a lot of opportunities, because we had a stable at home, but it was never really something for me. I was more into team sports. I always played football. »
A few decades later, he is ultimately still working in a team sport.
Peter Weinberg names the line-up. The riders enter the field.
Frederik monitors the bodies.
Only slight difference with Sunday afternoon football: here, half the athletes weigh around 600 kilos.
After his veterinary studies, he started broadly. Reproduction, horses, different cases. Then sport caught up with him.
He gradually specialised in orthopaedics.
And a vet friend from the American team opened a window for him onto the very top level.
« I really liked sport. I specialised a little more towards orthopaedics and I had a very good friend in the United States who was the veterinarian of the American team. I went over there to learn and that is how I caught the bug. Then I started slowly, step by step, with the ponies, the young riders and then the seniors. »
2011 with the young riders. 2014 with the seniors.
No lift. Frederik took the stairs.
The next morning, we start again
Back to the show. This time, forget the kiss and cry.
It is early. Much fewer people. Much less noise.
The horses are beginning to come out of their boxes.
A horse is simply walking down the aisle.
For ordinary mortals, it is walking. For Frederik, it is already telling the story of its night.
« I am always there to follow the horses. That way, I know them better. I see every day how they come out of the box, how they are ridden. And I do that in communication with the rider and the home veterinarian. »
That is probably where a large part of the job lies.
In repetition. Watching today so you can compare tomorrow.
A top-level horse has its own normality.
Its way of coming out of the box. Of placing a foot. Of recovering.
Of walking the day after a big round.
rederik is therefore not only trying to know whether a horse is well.
He wants to know whether it is well in the way that it is usually well.
Nuance.
And sometimes, a huge nuance.
Not all the horses likely to carry Belgian colours are obviously his daily patients. Some are, others have their own vet. Frederik therefore works with the horse’s usual medical entourage.
Then, as the championship approaches, the circle tightens.
He goes directly to the stables. Looks at the horses at home. Talks with the riders. With their vets.
And around two months before the objective, the preparation starts being combed through in detail.
« We ask the rider to give us all the supplements, all the feed they want, and we take blood to test it. We also make a plan with them to prepare the horse, so that it is good physically and in terms of condition. Does the horse need an endoscopy to check the airways? All of that, we communicate and talk about with the rider. »
By the time the championship begins, a good part of Frederik’s work should therefore already be done.
And if it has been done well, no one will notice.
Cruel profession.
Frederik Bruyninx’s permanent Belgian Championship
There is still, in him, an obvious trace of the kid who followed football.
Back then, Frederik knew the players and watched the matches.
Today, he does the same.
With Belgian horses. All Belgian horses.
« When I was young and played football, I knew all the players and followed all the matches. Now, every weekend, I follow all the Belgian riders. I look a little at what they have done and I know their plans for the next shows. »
On Sunday evening, the results therefore tell part of the story.
But not all of it.
Frederik also looks at where the horses are going to jump.
Grass or sand.
The heat.
The sequence of shows.
The next objective.
If a major appointment is held on grass, appearances in Rome, La Baule, St. Gallen or Falsterbo can suddenly take on another importance.
A horse is not simply prepared to perform.
It is prepared to perform there, in those conditions, at that precise moment of the season.
The calendar becomes a sort of life-size Tetris.
And in the middle of it all, the horses have to be kept fresh.
On Monday morning, Peter Weinberg calls
A few days later, the setting is much less glamorous.
No stands. No Belgian flag. No 1.60m course.
It is 7 a.m. and Frederik is in his car.
Around 7:30, like almost every Monday, the phone rings.
Peter Weinberg.
After years spent together, the relationship between the Belgian Chef d’Equipe and his veterinarian has become much more than a line on an organisational chart.
« We are friends. »
And friendship has its ritual.
He has a tradition: every Monday morning, I am in the car from 7 o’clock. So around 7:30, I always get a phone call from him. He explains things to me, we talk about the horses that jumped at the weekend, he tells me his plan for the shows and we discuss the horses.
On Monday morning, they replay the match.
But in their own way. This horse jumped on Sunday.
How is he?
That one has to go to Rome. This one could take another direction. Another enters the plans.
Has Frederik seen him recently? What kind of shape is he in?
Because the veterinarian’s opinion inevitably enters the thinking.
Without, however, giving him the keys to the truck.
« I am not the one who decides who goes to the show. But Peter likes to ask about the horses’ condition, how they are, whether I have seen them again at home. He keeps that in his head when making his decision. I help him more on the horse’s condition, to know whether it is in form. »
Peter Weinberg thinks about the selection.
Frederik gives him part of what the Grand Prix ranking does not tell.
And the discussions obviously do not stop on Monday morning.
« We are always together on the road. At most shows, we fly together or drive together and we have time to talk. I really have a very good relationship with him. »
Years spent redoing the world of showjumping between two boarding gates, two motorways and a few airport coffees inevitably create something more than a simple professional relationship.
A team is built there too. Far from the cameras. And sometimes from 7:30 on Monday morning.
Then Fred Becomes a Supporter Again
Back to the edge of the arena.
Because we should not imagine Frederik Bruyninx as some kind of veterinary computer onto which round glasses have been grafted.
When a Belgian enters the arena, the mental white coat sometimes drops.
nd the supporter comes out again.
« “I always say it: I am their first supporter.”»
The bell rings.
And the veterinarian’s heart rate is clearly not among the best-controlled medical constants of the weekend.
« It still gives me a lot of stress when the riders are on course. When we can qualify for the Olympic Games, it is always a dream. Not only for the riders, but also for me and for the staff. »
At that moment, Frederik is still looking at the feet.
But he can also see the clock very well. And he knows the ranking.
There are limits to scientific neutrality.
2015, Rotterdam, Tokyo
When asked to rewind all these years, a few images immediately come back.
2015 first.
Aachen.
Gregory Wathelet, European vice-champion.
Then Barcelona.
« 2015 was a really beautiful year for me. Gregory became second here in Aachen. That was a first big moment. And that same year, we won in Barcelona. As a team, that was a bit like my first trophy »
Then there was Rotterdam 2019.
The European team title.
And Tokyo.
An Olympic bronze medal won in that strange silence.
For Frederik, that one has a particular flavour.
« Rotterdam 2019, we became European champions. But Tokyo… unfortunately without spectators, but having the bronze medal… At that moment, all the riders were also my private riders. I knew the horses by heart and that helped me a lot over there. »
Knowing the horses by heart.
The expression perhaps sums up his work better than any job description.
Because after all these years in the middle of the team, Frederik is not only accumulating examinations, X-rays and analyses.
He is accumulating a memory. The memory of the horses when they are well.
Of their habits. Their recovery. Their small particularities.
And therefore of those tiny changes that, for someone else, might slip under the radar.
And then there are the days when the bag opens
Top-level sport loves producing beautiful photos.
Podiums. Flags. Riders hugging each other.
Horses covered in their champions’ rugs.
Frederik’s profession also has an album that nobody really wants to open.
Barcelona, October 2021.
Gancia de Muze.
An injury.
A serious one.
Serious enough to understand that the sporting career was over.
« What I find really difficult, and what hurt my heart a little, was the moment when Gancia was jumping in Barcelona and got injured there. It was so serious that we knew it was the end of her career. »
Hurt my heart a little.
The expression is almost too small for what it tells.
ut veterinarians are probably not paid to dramatise.
There are also colics. Departures to the clinic.
Decisions taken in a stable while, a few hundred metres away, the show continues as if nothing had happened.
And then there are the purely sporting defeats.
Those weeks when everything seemed well prepared but, simply, it is not your day.
« Sometimes, you think we really have a good team, but it is not our day and it is a disappointment. But then we fight and try to do better the next time »
There, the footballer comes out again.
Change a few words and the sentence could have been spoken in any dressing room on a Sunday evening.
The Problem of the Fifth Day
A championship is not a Grand Prix with more flags.
For the horses, above all, it is an accumulation.
One effort. Then another. Then another again.
And the need to keep answering present when the bodies start presenting the bill.
« A championship, five days, jumping five times, that is really heavy for them. So we are really going to help them, support them so they can keep going until the end. »
Frederik’s job then changes slightly.
You have to think about recovery. Hydration. Temperature. Stabling conditions. Ventilation.
Everything that allows the horse to recover as well as possible between two appointments.
The heat, for its part, does not necessarily worry him.
« I always say that horses can cope with heat better than humans. In general, they are really used to it because riders go and jump in Mexico, Miami… It is part of their routine. »
Used to it, yes.
Invincible, no.
And above all, a championship does not ask you to be well on Tuesday.
It asks you to still be well on Sunday.
That is the whole difference.
A Medal, and Horses Who Come Home Well
So what is a good championship for the veterinarian of the Belgian team?
Easy answer: a medal.
Frederik is not going to pretend that he travels all year only to admire the boxes.
He wants Belgium to play up front.
« A successful championship is when we can play with the other good teams right to the end for a good result. »
Then comes the second part of the answer.
The veterinarian’s part.
« But for me, when the horses jump well and we have no accident, then my championship or my Cup has gone well. »
Even vets play as a team
It must be said that the international calendar does not exactly do therapeutic half-time.
Aachen. Rome. St. Gallen. La Baule. Rotterdam. Falsterbo. Dublin…
Sometimes five weeks in a row.
Even with good glasses, Frederik cannot be everywhere.
« It is a bit too much for me alone. »
So the Belgian veterinary set-up works like the rest.
As a team.
Each discipline has its own vet, and colleagues can take over from one another when the calendar demands it.
« Each discipline has its vet. There is Mélanie de Schaetzen for dressage, Jef Desmedt for eventing, and I am there for showjumping. »
hey exchange information. Talk to each other about cases. Build the calendar.
Replace each other when necessary.
Even the one who watches over the team needs a team to watch over him.
“My heart Is with belgium”
After spending so much time at the very top level, Frederik obviously knows everyone.
The world is small.
It has happened, occasionally, that he has helped other teams. At Spruce Meadows, for example, he has given a hand to the Germans or the Swiss.
But a championship under another flag?
The question does not seem to provoke a very long existential crisis.
“My heart is with Belgium. So I won’t… It doesn’t work. It is not possible.”
That’s it.
We could probably have organised a meeting, produced a PowerPoint and talked about loyalty to the federal project.
Frederik settled it in one sentence.
He also points out that working for two teams at the same time would be unthinkable when a medal is at stake.
« When it is really for the championship, we only do our team. And honestly, that is already enough. »
Enough horses. Enough planes. Enough Monday mornings on the phone.
Enough stress when the bell rings.
And of course, Frederik Bruyninx will be part of the team in Aachen during the week of the World Championships.
A place that already brings back some good memories for him, but where the Belgian veterinarian will above all have a team to support and horses to watch.
We already know where to look for him.
Not necessarily in the centre of the photo.
More likely somewhere at the edge of the arena or in the kiss and cry, round glasses on his nose, watching a Belgian horse a few strides longer than everyone else. Before, hopefully, seeing him put his hands back in his pockets.
