Olympic Curling Sweeps the Continent, Not Just Vancouver

Curling has taken over North America’s televisions, tweets, and passion in these past two weeks in Vancouver. And with great reason: Curling is the made-for-television Olympic event.

Now I know what you’re thinking. The only thing this sport has going for it is an extremely attractive field of female athletes and a great time slot. True, curling does have both of these, but if that were all that’s needed for great TV, wouldn’t we all be watching Alias still?

Great television needs that extra push. Curling has that. It has that three times over. This is why Curling is one of the greatest spectator sports ever.

Right off the bat, curling has—more so than any other pro sport—relatable athletes. No running, no jumping, seemingly no athleticism at all. Fans like that.

We can only sit in awe of Chris Johnson breaking tackles for so long before eventually feeling bad about never being able to do that. Simply put, fans can’t see themselves in the shoes of people who are just flat-out incredible.

But Curling? Right now, the most popular male curler is Kevin Martin, and he is the exact opposite of the NBA version. Kevin the Curler is an even 6'0" and a common 209 lbs. Kevin the Houston Rocket is an odd 6'7" and weighs a lean but muscular 185 lbs. 

To go with the athletic frame, Kevin the Houston Rocket’s shoes are sponsored, made, and sold by Nike. Kevin the Curler’s equipment is sold at his own curling supply store he opened in 1991. Kevin the Curler could very well be Kevin the Neighbour, and who wouldn’t watch their neighbour on the tube?

Curling’s seemingly regular-style athletes are offset by their subtle precision-based skill set. These rocks are thrown so smoothly. There’s a reason why Scottie’s facial tissue is a sponsor. The brushing technique rivals anything The Shopping Channel tries to pass off as professional, and the mental game is like a flashy version of chess on ice. 

The many curls of a rock, the line that needs to be swept, and the pre-planning of future shots make curling a thinking-man’s game. But because some fans had no idea rinks of this dimension existed before the Olympics, we don’t know how much skill is needed for this sport. 

We can only assume it’s harder than it looks, a perception that benefits curling over a game like soccer, which appears to be easier than Snooki from Jersey Shore.

Curling also shares similarities with the most popular and respected television titles this century. Similar to Lost, viewers stay tuned for what’s next because they have no idea what’s going to happen even with all the clues. 

No one heard Sean Payton’s plan for the onside kick in the Super Bowl, but each team in curling openly plans the next play in plain sight. Do we understand what’s happening? Sort of. We assume that the broom in the house (the area where all the rocks are) is a guide for where they want the rock to go.

Even the way the announcers call the matches is with an assumed intelligence. They say things like “the hammer” and we think Hamilton, Ont. They say “hack” and we assume the ESPN-era Rick Reilly. We’re wrong, but we enjoy that they don’t explain it. It makes the sport more unpredictable.

Curling is the sport of Canada. We dominate it like it’s hockey or the Internet. No one else does it more often or with such passion. It’s the reason Canada’s the favourite to win gold every four years, despite Canada losing to Sweden on the women’s side Friday. And it’s the reason we’ve won the most medals (seven) since it was introduced in 1998. 

So next time you’re arguing with friends over how to fix the NBA, remember what made curling successful this Olympics. 

And try to remember to mention more than Cheryl Bernard.

(Originally published at The Sports Caddy)