
Recent high-profile incidents in Olympic curling have sparked intense debate. The details differ, but the pattern is familiar: a possible rules infraction, an emotional reaction, a firm denial – and a discussion that quickly grows larger than the contact itself.
Rather than revisiting specific cases, a broader question matters:
Why do high-performance athletes deny and escalate in these moments?And does the psychology differ if the act was unintentional versus deliberate?
Ben Hebert (L), Marc Kennedy • Anil Mungal-The Curling NewsThe unintentional case: automation and identity
At the highest level, curling technique becomes automated. Deliveries are repeated thousands of times. Release mechanics, follow-through, balance corrections – all are embedded in motor memory.
In that state, small contacts can occur outside conscious awareness.
There is also a structural factor worth acknowledging. For several years, hogline violations were not monitored with the same technological precision seen today. When enforcement changes, behaviour does not reset overnight. Habits formed under lighter scrutiny can persist. Once monitoring tightens – especially under Olympic-level broadcast review – previously unnoticed movements may suddenly become visible infractions.
What appears new may simply be old behaviour meeting a new enforcement environment.
If confronted in the heat of competition, an athlete may genuinely believe no violation occurred. Add identity to the equation – “I am a clean competitor” – and denial becomes a psychological defence rather than deception.
Under Olympic pressure, the nervous system prioritizes protection over reflection.
Bobby Lammie of GBR • Anil Mungal-The Curling NewsThe deliberate case: justification and risk
If an act was intentional, the psychology changes.
The issue becomes justification rather than perception.
In high-stakes environments, small boundary extensions can become normalized – especially if they have gone unpunished before. Rarely does an athlete frame this internally as cheating. It is more often rationalized as marginal, competitive, or part of playing “on the edge.”
If publicly challenged, denial may then serve strategic self-protection rather than perceptual confusion.
From the outside, however, the emotional intensity can look identical.
Why the reaction looks bigger than the act
Observers often ask: “If it was minor, why react so strongly?”
Because accusations of rule-breaking in elite sport are existential. They threaten personal identity, team reputation, and years of disciplined work.
In those seconds, the brain reacts as if under attack. Voice rises. Defensiveness appears. That reaction does not automatically signal guilt. It signals perceived threat.
Sochi 2014 • Anil Mungal-The Curling NewsCurling’s cultural layer
Curling carries a tradition of self-reporting and honour. Expectations are higher than in many sports, which makes controversies resonate more deeply.
At the same time, increased technological scrutiny has changed the competitive environment. The sport must recognize that human adaptation often lags behind enforcement.
Preparation is competitive strategy
Technology will not retreat. Video review will only become more precise. The environment has changed.
In that reality, emotional escalation is rarely an advantage.
Whether an incident is unintentional or deliberate, one competitive truth remains: teams that are quickest to regulate emotion, accept decisions efficiently, and return to execution gain the edge.
Preparation makes the difference.
Teams prepare for last-stone pressure. They prepare for extra ends. They should also prepare for moments when integrity is questioned.
Not because they expect to break rules, but because they understand human psychology under pressure.
The strongest teams are not those who avoid controversy.
They are the ones who already know how they will respond when it arrives.
Ralph Stoeckli at Vancouver 2010 • Anil Mungal-The Curling NewsFinal reflection
There is one more layer worth considering.
The same psychological mechanisms described above do not apply only to athletes.
Fans and observers are also not immune to identity protection.
When a favourite player is involved, many instinctively defend first and analyze later. Video angles are questioned. Motives are reinterpreted. Opponents are blamed. The mind works quickly to protect a preferred narrative.
This, too, is human.
Before we speculate about intent or assign moral labels, it may be worth asking ourselves a simple question:
If the same incident involved a player from another country or team, would we interpret it the same way?
Elite sport tests not only the athletes’ composure – it also tests ours.