When Winning is Not Enough: The Spirit of Curling

Yesterday’s CAN versus SWE men’s game will be remembered for more than the scoreboard.

Video footage shows Marc Kennedy making contact with the delivered stone at the hogline in a way that raised questions after the first end. 

Oskar Eriksson re-raised the issue after the ninth end. 

What followed was not a technical discussion about rules, but an emotional exchange that included language none of us associate with our sport. 

After the game, comments from the Canadian team suggested that Sweden’s complaint was merely “chirping” from a losing team.

In most sports, this would be just another controversy.

In curling, it feels different.

Context matters

Years ago, my team competed at the Perth Masters in Scotland against a Canadian team skipped by a father, with his two adult sons and another teammate. 

It was intense. At one point the father turned to his son and shouted, “Shut the f*** up or I will kill you!”

We laughed about it afterwards. It was an important event, but without cameras or media — just competitive heat spilling over in a very human way. 

No one was offended. No one wrote about it. It stayed within the walls of the rink.

But yesterday’s game was different.

It was broadcast live to millions.

That changes everything.

The stone is not the story

Let’s be honest: the original incident itself was not the most dramatic rules question in curling history.

What unsettled many observers was not the potential infraction itself, but the reaction directed at the opposing player who raised it. That’s because in curling the culture has always encouraged players to call their own fouls. They admit when they burn a stone. They concede when something is wrong, even when it hurts.

That tradition is not weakness.

It is strength.

Canada and the weight of leadership

Canada is the superpower of curling. No other country has shaped the modern game the way Canada has – technically, competitively, and culturally.

With that status comes influence.

Young players in Finland, Korea, Italy, Sweden – everywhere – often copy what Canadian teams do. They copy the athlete’s delivery, the sweeping, the tactics, the communication.

And they copy the behaviour.

That is why this moment matters. Not because of outrage. Not because social media has divided people into camps. But because leadership in sport is not only about winning medals; it’s about modelling how the game should be played.

Winner’s responsibility

Before curling became an Olympic sport, it was common at major championships – not just bonspiels – for the winning team to offer the drinks to the losing team. The message was clear: the winner carries the greater responsibility for generosity.

Victory does not grant the right to diminish your opponent. It increases the obligation to respect them.

When a dispute arises, the strongest position is calm acknowledgment. Even disagreement can be expressed with dignity – especially in victory.

The Olympic stage

The Olympics are not just competition. They are a global showcase.

Millions upon millions watch curling during the Games who have never stepped on ice. They decide, often subconsciously, what kind of sport this is. 

Is this another arena for confrontation? Or is it something rare – a sport where competitors police themselves and value respect as much as results?

In a world increasingly polarized – politically, socially, digitally – sport can either amplify division or model another way. Curling has historically been a small but meaningful counter-example: fierce competition without hostility, disagreement without dehumanization.

We should protect that.

This is not about sides

Social media has already split into camps: those condemning, those defending. That division is predictable.

It is also unnecessary.

This is not Canada versus Sweden.

It is not about punishing one player.

It is about remembering who we want to be as a sport.

Every athlete loses control in the heat of competition at some point. Passion is part of elite sport. But curling’s identity has always rested on something deeper: self-regulation, humility, and mutual respect.

The stone will be forgotten.

The example will not.

And if curling is to remain a sport that teaches young players not only how to win, but how to win well, then moments like this are opportunities – not to attack, but to reaffirm what makes our game special.

Because in curling, winning has never been enough.