2010 Winter Olympics: Curling, Nowhere Near As Weird As You'd Expect

My very favourite person in the world is an old buddy of mine, Ron, who lives in London, Ontario.

Like many Canadians, Ron is so laid back that you occasionally have to fight the urge to put a mirror under his nose—just to check that he’s still breathing. Also like many Canadians, Ron has a soft spot in his heart for curling.

When Ron introduced me to this weirdest of all games, I had my doubts. It struck me as something less than a sport, more a pastime for people who were too lazy to fall into a coma.

I would spend hours trying to imagine the depths of boredom into which someone had to have fallen before they invented this game. Had they run out of alcohol (it was allegedly invented in Scotland, so it’s pretty unlikely), were there no belly-buttons left to de-fluff? Weren't there Englishmen to drive backover the border?

In short, I thought that it was something that could be saved for retirement, a sort of deep-freeze version of lawn bowls. Certainly, it was not something that should be classed as an Olympic sport.

Then I watched it. Really watched it.

And it’s fascinating.

According to Wikipedia, curling at the Turin Olympics in 2006 drew an audience of five million viewers in Canada—more even than the ice hockey. Arguing with one Canadian is a challenge, but five million just can’t possibly be wrong although, being Wikipedia, the number could be.

It’s a sport that is part bowling, part ice skating, part chess, part shuffleboard. It is one of the few sports to use domestic cleaning implements, science, art, and I suspect just a little bit of witchcraft. Throw in a large granite stone and you have a sport that could have been the subject of a great practical joke.

Everything happens in slow motion, and yet it has you on the edge of your seat. It is engrossing for reasons that aren’t immediately obvious, but the tension is palpable. It is impossible to describe in a manner that makes it seem in any way exciting, but it is.

Best of all, however, is that it seems that anyone can play it—except me, who has trouble standing up on wet concrete—it requires no particular athletic aptitude. Not that it’s necessarily played well, but that’s not the point. Perhaps, that is also its appeal that 50 year olds can win Olympic Gold.

Still, if you want to see it played by the best in the business, and for many of us it’s our only opportunity for the next four years, it starts today. Find time to give it a look—you won’t be disappointed.

Go Canada—for my old buddy Ron.