When Curling Gets Eerie, Jarring and Downright Horrifying

What is it that draws humans to consume content full of pain and discomfort? In our daily lives, most of us avoid confrontation or difficult situations. When watching television, movies or sports, some of us desire the opposite.

Crossfire began on CNN in 1982 and ended in 2005, but not before spawning a generation of news viewers who came for the vitriol spewed by warring verbal combatants rather than the facts of the day. News media corporations discovered it was the conflict that brought eyeballs, and we have yet to recover from the onslaught of copycat programs ever since.

Even our comedy can be served with conflict. Curb Your Enthusiasm is a show which delights in the uncomfortable tension wrought by Larry David in any situation, often escalating to raised voices or fisticuffs over the most mundane of issues, such as a chat-and-cut, disrespecting wood or whether Joseph of nativity scene fame is attracted to Mary.

Horror movies thrive on having viewers to squirm in their seats. The Netflix show Squid Game apparently has a viewership of over 142 million households. Following the agonizing ordeal and inevitable fate of a cast of engaging characters has become the binge-watch spectacle of the year. Yes, it’s entertaining, but it’s hard to watch episode six (Gganbu) without feeling some gut-sinking level of dread.

The Canadian (Olympic) Curling Trials provides one of the more pristine athletic displays of this eerie, disquieting, often jarring and downright horrifying experience for viewers to watch. A collection of curlers is assembled every four years and put into a petri dish of discomfort for fans at home and in the arena to cheer for, but fans also sit in shock as they watch these athletes falter under the greatest of pressure.

I’ve written in the past that strange things happen at this event.

So far, results appear no different four years later. We’re on day three of nine in Saskatoon, and the 2021 version of curling’s ludi romani (Roman Games) has already provided a sampling of wild play and unexpected results.

Defending champion Rachel Homan has started 0-2, losing to the 33rd and 36th world ranked teams, skipped by Krista McCarville and Jacqueline Harrison. Homan’s previous record against these two was 27-5 (8-0 in the past four seasons) including 15-1 against McCarville—not quite 2-100, Krista!

Per my analysis, I have this outcome occurring about 3% of the time.

The afternoon men’s draw provided further strangeness. It’s not a surprise that Kevin Koe could fall to Brad Gushue, but it was the manner in which it happened that looked … unnatural. Koe played well below his usual level (69%) and surrendered four stolen ends. It might take days of scouring linescores to find the last time this might have happened. Using Team Koe’s Steal Defence of .18 this season, the odds of what happened are under 0.5%.

Down 4-2 with hammer, Tanner Horgan missed a chance at five points in the seventh end against Brendan Bottcher and settled for a single. Leading by two in the final frame, Bottcher likely has a higher win probability than the 87% average and once they succeed in ticking both guards in the extra frame, everyone in attendance was preparing for the inevitable … but it didn’t arrive. Bottcher needed to capture most of the eight foot on his final draw and was short by a few feet, and Horgan stole the win.

Two victories were stolen over the opening weekend, out of a possible two situations (tied in last or extra end) and in another game, Jacqueline Harrison—that pesky underdog who defeated Homan—stole two in the 10th end to upset Kerri Einarson 7-6. Harrison’s odds were less than 3% facing a three-point deficit in the ninth end. It would appear the sport doesn’t need a rule to freeze guards on a centre line when the pressure dial is turned to 11.

Other inauspicious misses were on display in the Sunday evening draw. In their second or third game of an event in which they also had practice time, teams missed more often and in bigger moments than what we might expect. Jennifer Jones and McCarville both flashed hits in their respective contests. Jennifer struggled with draw weight most of her game, including a guard on an attempt to reach the four foot in the third end. Her opponent Laura Walker returned the favour in the fifth end, missing her draw for two after landing on the button on her previous shot. Eventually Jones stole the game in the extra end, when Walker’s final draw, swept end-to-end by the front end, slipped three inches too far.

I’ve asked players in the past if the pressure of this event is greater than that of a men’s Brier or women’s Scotties, and they generally claim it’s no different. Really?

When considering the recent success and vast experience of many of these teams, I originally expected a different theme for this article. Thus far, however, the play we’ve seen on the ice has matched the mood in the building—and the fit of a few trousers. Tight.

Richard Hart, who won Olympic silver and lost a Trials final in 2009, shared his thoughts in an episode of Rock Logic, later quoted in a feature on the pressure Canadian curlers face in the limelight. Hart suggested, among other things, that the pressure of this event is comparable to a provincial final.

Perhaps it is, but if so, it’s the response to that pressure which appears different.

Teams and athletes usually progress up a competitive ladder, becoming more comfortable with each rung they climb. Mike Weir shoots 80 in the final round of the 1999 PGA Championship and four years later wins the 2003 Masters because of his past experience in contention at a major. He’s been there before.

However, the four-year gap of curling’s Olympic cycle rarely seems to produce a similar result. It could be the tinkering of team lineups, the age at which Canadian curlers usually peak (thirties), or even random results taken from a small sample size.

One day the story might flip, and this article won’t be written. But until then, sit back, feel your stomach churn along with the teams and fans in the arena, and gasp at the carnage that is Canada’s Curling Trials.