Forget Olympic Curling, the Brier Wins

The Brier wins.

This year’s shootout in St. John’s, Newfoundland and Labrador will produce a worthy champion. As I write this, it will either be a rejuvenated Kevin Koe or Matt Dunstone, who eliminated Brad Jacobs in Sunday’s semifinal match.

But no matter who wins, the real winner this week is the Brier.

After the chaos that was the Winter Olympics – with the cheating hoopla, the focus on winning gold at any cost, the screams for more officiating in the game – curling really needed the Brier. 

And it delivered.

As a sports fan, what I crave the most is drama and emotion. I want to know how much it means to everyone. I want to see the stress and tension in the athletes’ faces. I want to be able to feel the sacrifice that they have made to get to where they are. The Brier delivers this like no other event in curling.

You needed to swat the emotional stories away like flies. There were so many tales of what the Brier means to the competitors. Whether its Sandy MacEwan at his first Brier or Kevin Koe at his 14th, the Brier means more. No other event can stir the emotion of the athletes anywhere close to what the Brier can do.

Why is that? I think a big part is the history. Every Canadian curler has grown up with the Brier being the pinnacle of the sport. The emergence of the game on TV, complete with larger-than-life curling champions, is how many curlers (including me) fell in love with the game. 

The crowds also play a huge role. The crowd in St. John’s this week was beautiful. You could feel their emotions and passion through the television screen. Curling in a crowded arena of appreciative patrons adds such a degree of drama and tension to the sport.

There was James Grattan bringing a NB squad painfully close to a playoff appearance. 

There was the emotional sendoff for Quebec legends – and my former teammates – Ménard, Crete and Trepanier. 

There was PEI playing with three, as Christopher Gallant had taken a month off work to cheer on his brother at the Olympics. 

There was Koe turning back the clock and making ridiculous shots that most competitive-level curlers would not even think of throwing. 

(The triple he made to blank the ninth end against Mike McEwen is one of the bravest, craziest shots I have ever seen.)

The Olympic champs, Team Brad Jacobs, are surely running on fumes at his point and eager to sleep in their own beds… and they’re playing near-perfect curling while on auto-pilot. 

There was Jayden King playing way better than rookies should, and sneaking Ontario into the playoffs for the first time in four years.

All of these stories alone are enough to make this a memorable Brier.  

And then there is Brad Gushue.

Gushue announced his retirement at the start of this season, and the Brier in St. John’s instantly became a tribute event as much as a bonspiel.

His sendoff after his loss to Jacobs in the 3 vs 4 playoff was simply a perfect moment. There was not a dry eye in the house (or in my TV room) as we watched Gushue step off the stage for the last time. 

The TSN video, the Bryan Mudryk interview, his perfect last shot in a losing effort, the standing ovation, the tear-soaked family hugs. 

Perfect. 

Perhaps the only thing better would have been the accolades after the final, but it was almost better that this happened before the trophies were given out and the Tankard hoisted high. It gave the moment the space and attention it deserved.

Gushue’s legacy in curling will be formidable. He will be justifiably heralded as the GOAT… the Tiger Woods of curling without the extra-curricular activities that plagued Tiger.

So what made Gushue so good?

There is a story about Woods that John Daly likes to tell. Daly is at a  tournament on Saturday evening, drinking Jack Daniels in the bar, when Tiger walks by on his way to the range.

“Join us for a drink, Tiger!” Daly says. Tiger politely declines and heads to practice.

Three hours later, Tiger walks by the bar again after his practice. Daly asks again: “Tiger, join us for a drink?”

Tiger declines again and says: “John, if I had your talent, I would.”

This is Brad Gushue. He practiced. He practiced some more. I would argue he was not as “natural” as many of the other top curlers. For my money, he was never as strong a hitter as many of the elites like Jacobs, Koe, Middaugh, Martin or Stoughton. He was just more consistent.

His dedication to practice made him simply the most consistent curler on the planet. He throws every rock exactly how we wants to throw it. His degree of error is smaller than anyone. That is what makes him the best.  

He was practicing next to me at a Brier once, and I overheard him saying: “I will give you an extra foot of weight on this one.” 

An extra foot? Who says that? How good do you have to be to be able to confidently say that you will throw an extra foot of weight?

Insane.

If there is a knock on Gushue, I would say that in a generation of curlers where the party was part of the game, Gushue was boring. He was not one of the swashbuckling, gregarious, life-of-the-party-type competitors that were dominating the game when he emerged on the scene.

Gushue was a new breed. It made him a bit of an outcast, but it is also why he won.

The price of being the best is walking past the John Dalys in the bar after practice, and Gushue paid that price. I can’t think of anyone that has an off-ice story about Gushue doing something remotely crazy or inappropriate. He just trained, and trained, and trained and won. 

I think he also paid the price of wear and tear on his body from all that practice. His hips and knees will surely appreciate the rest.

He also made time and space for the fans and treated them with the utmost respect. There is a reason he has such a massive legion of adoring curling fans, from all across the country.

The Game will surely miss Brad. His retirement is making me feel old as f***. I was 46 when I competed in my first Brier and Gushue is retiring at 45; he surely has some gas left in the tank, the question is… for what? 

I find it hard to believe that a few years from now, the urge to compete won’t stir somewhere inside of him. Gushue is clearly a goals-driven man, so he’d better find another channel for his competitive drive.

Either way, I wish him well.