My Romance With Curling

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Let me tell you about my romance with curling.

First of all, if not for curling, I wouldn't be here.  My parents met at a curling rink in Biggar, Saskatchewan.  New York is Big, but this is Biggar.  Biggar produced the greatest curler of all times, Sandra Schmirler.  There was something about Sandra that will never be repeated.  Her on-ice accomplishments speak for themselves, but, there was just something about her.  I tend to cheer for the underdogs except when it came to Sandra Schmirler.  If she was still alive and curling today, I would still be cheering for her.  I never would have tired of her winning.  A remarkable documentary was produced about her and her team.  It was titled "Friends First".  It talked about the deep friendship that existed between the four of them and Sandra credited the chemistry to their success.  She also said curling was a sacrifice in terms of family time and she could only justify continuing to curl as long as she was having fun.  For Sandra, her success had nothing to do with her being a superior ice reader, a superior shot-maker, or her ability to see shots four rocks ahead of anyone else, it was the chemistry of her friendships.  That fits in with my fantasy of curling.  Four friends going out to curl one night a week having a fun time with four other friends competing to see who buys the first round, and curling so that you have a shot or two to talk about after the game.

I have to tell you about the sweater that is in the first two pictures above.  I grew up in Dauphin, Manitoba.  The curling rink and the skating rink were next to each other.  My parents put me in figure skating lessons before I was school age.  I remember that I was in a duck costume at some sort of end of year show or something and I fell down and got my skate blade in my chin.  I still have a scar to prove it, but, that was the end of me going to the skating rink.

But, I loved going to the curling rink with my dad to watch him curl.  When I was really little and we lived at our house on Main Street, my dad would often walk and carry me on his shoulders.  That was the best part.  My dad had a curling sweater that he always wore.  I assume it got it when he became an adult.  He was born in 1912.  One of the top women curlers in the world is Chelsea Carey.  She talked about hanging out at the curling rink watching her dad and he was her favorite player.  My dad didn't curl competitively but I have the same happy memories of hanging out at the curling rink watching my dad and he was my favorite player.  At some point, I must have told my dad that I liked his sweater.  I really don't know why I would say that.  It had several holes in it and it was filthy and ragged.

Starting in 1990 my dad did a lot of little things that didn't make sense at the time.  Now, I see these little things as his preparation for death.  He died in 1992.

For my birthday in 1991, he gave me the curling sweater in the pictures.  But, there was a twist.  It was his old curling sweater.  He had taken it to my Nana Grey in Dauphin and told her to make me a sweater out of his old sweater.  My Nana Grey used to babysit me (and half of Dauphin) when I was a child. She was in her 80s when she made me the sweater.  She told me it was the hardest project she had ever done.  She had to take apart my father's sweater and save all the wool she could.  She said there were so many holes in it that she ended up with a million pieces of wool and not one was longer than four inches long.  She had to hand wash every piece of wool in cold water so it wouldn't shrink.  She had to envision a pattern that would work based on her estimate of the wool.  She made three mistakes in that regard so she had to restart those times.  She never knit with a pattern other than the one in her mind.  After she finished, she turned it inside out and sewed in all the little ends of wool that were sticking out.  I knit, and I saw the before.  I can't even imagine how long that must have took.  In true Nana Grey style she told me, "I didn't do it for you, I did it for your dad. I would do anything for your dad."  I will never let that sweater go and I did fit it in 1991.

The sweater represents another romantic notion I have about curling.  Curlers are the nicest people in the world and you would do anything for a curler because a curler would do anything for you.  In curling clubs all over Canada, there are thousands of people curling at any one time without the benefit of an official.  You don't need one because curlers are the nicest people in the world. A curler never wants their opponent to miss a shot.  A curler doesn't want to win a game based on a miss, they want to win a game based on their own spectacular team shot.  I have been very fortunate as a fan of curling in that I have met many of the greats of the game, past and present.  Most have been extremely gracious and always had time to talk about curling.  Carter Rycroft carried my luggage at an airport and went out of his way to get me to my gate.  A very few have been less than gracious.  But, I get it.  They have thousands of fans constantly mobbing them.

Wait a minute.  Curling is fast becoming a marginalized sport.  The elite curlers don't meet tens of thousands of people.  The sport is at a unique crossroads where the curlers actually need the fans more than we need them.  Curlers need fans to watch and cheer in order for curling to continue and to grow.

Now, we have professional "curlers" who have a lot invested in winning.  It is no longer four friends getting out on the ice, it is about sponsorship, travel, the right equipment, etc.  Ironically, as the sport is growing in terms of TV ratings and top bonspiel prizes for the elite 10 teams, curling is struggling at the club level.

We now think we should have the same ice conditions as the professionals, etc.  Curling used to be very popular because it was cheap enough for everyone to afford.  It is not cheap anymore and it frankly just is not as much fun as it used to be.  Unless your mom or dad is a curler, the youth are more likely to be encouraged to play soccer.  Young adults are choosing a gym membership over curling.

I still cry every time they away the national trophy's.  I still cry when they play the national anthem when we medal at the world stage.

Last year, my sweetie and I volunteered at the World Men's Championship in Las Vegas.  It was like going to Disneyland for me.  It was also a rude awakening for me.  I just assumed everyone loved curling as much as I did.  Apparently, not.  At the poker table, people would ask me the silliest questions such as do you bring your own curling rock?  Well, now, I finally have my own curling rock.  It is actually a drink holder.  I take the straw out when it is not in use so it looks more authentic.

I have got my rock and I am ready to watch curling.  But, here is the catch.  There have been two televised events so far this year.  I didn't watch.  It is pretty much the same teams that I have watched for the last several years.  Some of the teams have changed but it is still the same "professional" curlers that don't even live in the same city anymore, or even the same province.  Curling is becoming business, but only for a few, and those few have too much invested in their game and not having a lot of fun.  It is just not fitting in with my romance of curling.  I am sorry to say, curling, but you are losing me.  And, I don't know if you have good replacements in the next generation.  Curling has to court me to get me back in the romance.  I want to be courted to continue my romance.  Curling, I'm looking forward to your next move.  If you don't want to continue the romance, that is ok.  I will survive.  Hey. Hey.  As long as I know how to love, I know I'll stay alive.  I will survive.

Will curling survive?  That is more questionable.