Happy Curling Day In Canada, folks
Love, Hate, Love, Hate Curling
I have spent a remarkable amount of time this week watching the Scotties, the Canadian Women’s Curling Championship.
I felt a bit closer to it this year. I actually devoted some time to coaching an Ontario women’s team that lost the semis to get to Thunder Bay.
I think I watched more women’s curling this year than any other. So I feel a bit invested.
A few random observations and thoughts from the week:
• The Scotties is fun to watch.
I enjoy the passion. I enjoy that there is drama, there are mistakes, there is shotmaking, and there are countless stories about teams that have quietly devoted much of their spare time to being as good as they are.
• If you don’t love Christina Black you don’t love curling. I have known Christina for a while (she beat me at the national mixed 11 years ago!) and have loved watching her team grow in prominence over the past few years.
They are putting in the time and effort, and with Jill Brothers at third, they are for real. I don’t think anybody will beat Homan this week, but they are my pick to come closest.
• I feel sad for Laurie St-Georges, who I’m sure wanted to make it to the weekend and was only one end away from finishing a solid second in her pool. I’m sure Team Quebec are heartbroken but I enjoyed watching their play this week. I’m hoping they keep building on what appears to be the making of a great team.
• Shout out to Kerry Galusha. It’s sad to see her retiring from the women’s game—although I’m sure we will see her on the coaching bench—but I’m glad she got to have one last run at the Scotties and received well-deserved accolades from the curling world.
Kerry is one of my favorites, both on and off the ice, and I hope to still see her around.
[embed]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x4QPGxcOZYY[/embed]
• I think I’m starting to understand the format (after years of not understanding it). The Friday still seems anti-climactic to me, but as I said last year I think there is no such thing as the perfect format, but this one is close enough.
• Joanne Courtney is a very good curling analyst. It still feels like she should be playing, but I appreciate the thoughtful commentary she brings to the booth.
• Am I allowed to say that I enjoy watching the Scotties way more than I enjoy watching the Slams? ’Cause I do.
I know the Slams usually represent a higher level of curling, with the Tirizonis and Kims and Hasselborgs of the world delivering a higher level of shotmaking, but there is something ever-so charmingly Canadian about the Scotties. It just seems to mean more.
Prediction for Sunday? Homan over Black, in a surprisingly tight final.
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It’s Curling Day In Canada!
Here’s a quick story about how 20 minutes of curling summarizes my feelings about this sport.
I love curling. I hate curling. I love curling.
I am clearly inconsistent about those feelings.
Okay, I love curling. I have played the game since I was 12. It has given me countless gifts; a community of friends, some amazing moments that I will never forget, countless fun times both on and off the ice.
But perhaps most importantly, curling has taught me things. It has taught me patience. It has taught me teamwork. It has taught me how to work with others who are not always like me.
It’s also taught me a lot about how to deal with adversity. Curling always presents challenges, both on the ice and off, and learning how to calmly address difficult situations has served me well.
But this year the game has tested my love.
It was a rough season. I have had many rough seasons in my four decades of curling (yeeesh) but this one felt particularly bad.
Despite a team that I thought was playing well, and doing the right things, we always seemed to be on the wrong side of the inch. I’ve always said that “luck” usually evens out over the course of a season. But this year, we definitely had more than our share of sometimes bad, and sometimes awful luck.
A pick that would cost us a game, a fluke made by our opponents by accident, losing games on measures. It truly felt like we could not buy a good break.
(By the way, Team Fournier is sticking together for next season on the men’s side—although we are looking for a replacement for Emile Asselin, who decided to return to La Belle Province.
So if you are looking to join a fun and hopefully no longer cursed squad, hit me up!)
My competitive men’s season ended with a loss in the B-side qualifier for provincials, predictably by an inch. With my men’s season over on January 5, I have turned my attention to seniors qualifying.
I really enjoy curling seniors. Seniors curling in Canada is for curlers over 50. It is a solid level of play, and you get to play with and against some absolute legends of the game. And everyone enjoys a beer after the game and tells ridiculously good curling stories.
It feels old school.
So I signed up again this year with a team, and went to the St. Thomas Curling club for regional qualifying.
We played well, won two, then lost the A-final to Adam Spencer. This put us directly into the B-final against Bob Armstrong, a last chance game to get to the provincials at Mississauga in March. We were comfortably in control of the game, up 3 heading into the seventh end of an eight-end game.
I love curling.
Then, the Curling Gods got into it.
I was throwing my first in the seventh, and we were looking like a lock to win the game. We were lying three spread across the house, two of them behind a wall of guards. I was throwing a hit on a rock that was not even really in play, just to remove all hope for my opponent.
Then, a pick.
The rock hit some random piece of destiny, and veered two feet off course, and into one of my opponent’s guards. It then raised the guard back 20 feet onto one of my rocks, and then the other, somehow leaving my opponent lying two buried and throwing next.
I hate curling.
We gave up a four-ender, the opposing skip made a beauty of a thin double to complete the assault, and we found ourselves trailing by one heading into the last end.
I hate #$&@# curling.
I then spent the better part of 15 minutes trying to quiet the voices of anger in my head.
“How could I be so unlucky?”
“Why me?”
“What did I do to offend the Curling Gods?”
“Am I cursed?”
The eighth end was going pretty badly as well. I missed a tight port on my first rock, and was left with one opposing counter in the back four, behind a wall of stones. My only shot was a 15-foot angle double runback for three and the win.
Made it.
I love curling.
Off to senior provincials!
Did I mention I love curling (for now)?