I didn’t see the young woman when she left the starting block, but I couldn’t miss her elegant glide as she slid the round granite curling stone down the white sheet of ice. She resembled a swan upon a lake – her body sleek, her movement one long and smooth stretch.
Then she released the stone ever so gently. Not a push but a subtle let-go, like a nod.
Ten minutes before, I had tried to be so efficient. I stood hunched at the starting block, moving a plastic stabilizer first out and then back (raising my backside) and then out again, sliding my right leg back and my left foot forward – just as the curling instructor had instructed.
I tried to push off two times, and ended up on my butt and my back. I had none of the gracefulness of the professional: Her body was flat and perpendicular to the ice; I was literally on the ice.
The professional curler was competing in the 2014 Curling National Championships held at the IceWorks skating rink in Aston, PA, recently. The nationals drew the top 10 men and women’s teams from across the country hoping to be named Team USA and represent the United States at the World Curling Championships. About 80 curlers were expected to participate at the nationals, including 15 Olympians, six of whom were in the Sochi Winter Olympics.
As for me, I was among a group of eight people taking a one-hour course in the sport of curling. I had never even heard of it until my financial advisor Matt of Ameriprise Financial called to ask if I’d be interested in learning how to curl. All I heard in his phone call was “curl,” and the only curl I knew about was what women did to their hair. When I returned the phone call, he told me that curlers pushed a stone made in Scotland on the ice.
Then I got worried because I was lousy on the ice, and I envisioned myself falling on my butt. Heck, I couldn’t even stay upright on roller skates when I tried years ago – and they had four (little) wheels.
I was curious about curling, though, so I Googled and found a website for the national championships. I saw photos of people wearing black shoes and pushing a round stone on hockey ice. I was game; I’m always ready for a new experience.
Wear warm clothes and rubber-sole shoes, Matt said. So, I did. In fact I wasn’t sure which pair of shoes to wear so I brought along two with me to the arena, where we would be instructed and would play the game.
I arrived early, and watched as an instructor showed another group of people how to play. It was freezing in the arena, so much so that I went back to my car, got my hat and gloves, and kept them on through most of our session. Someone mentioned that it was colder in that arena than on the other side where the professionals were playing. Lucky them.
I wanted to know more about the game, so I peppered the instructor with questions: When did it originate (in 1500s Scotland)? When did it become an Olympics sport (he wasn’t sure, guessed it was the 1990s)? What’s the point of the game (to get the stone inside the “house” – which resembled a bull’s-eye – at the other end and score points by making sure your stones are closer to the center than your competitor)?
Curling is an old sport, but no one seems to know exactly when it got started. The earliest instance recorded was in the 1500s in Scotland, according to the World Curling Federation. This game of pushing stones over ice began as a pastime played on frozen ponds. The first clubs were formed in Scotland, and the game found its way around the world during the 19th century wherever Scots immigrated.
It would be decades before curling became a recognized Olympics sport. At the first Olympic Games at Chamonix, France, in 1924, men’s curling got a nod but no medals. Great Britain won, but it would be 2006 before the International Olympics Committee would officially designate 1924 as curling’s official debut and award the medals. Curling became an Olympic winter sport in 1998. View photos of the 1924 men’s team.
It has been called the “Roaring Game,” according to the federation, because of the sound that the 40-plus pound stone makes as it moves over the ice. The granite stones are exclusively made out of a rare granite on an island in Scotland.
Our instructor, who was a member of a local curling club, noted that curling was the game usually played at 5 a.m. during the Olympics. It apparently lacks the sexiness of figure-skating, the daring-do of skiing and the showboating of snowboarding. In fact, the curling games at Sochi were actually played in the early-morning hours or were shown on tape in the afternoons.
The Olympics exposure, however, has led to popularity of the game, and interest in folks wanting to learn more about it or learn how to play it. And we were among them, a sundry group of financial advisors and their clients.
Before we got started, we placed rubber galoshes (similar to what I saw a few days later in a 1959 movie that men wore on their shoes in the rain) over the shoe on our dominant side and a plastic wrap over the other foot. The galoshes helped us to stand without falling on the ice, which was textured with tiny bumps (called pebbled ice).
Then, we had to learn how to start the game. I placed my right foot into a block similar to those used by relay racers, slid a stabilizer (which looked like a series of PVC tubes glued together) back and forward a few times, and pushed off. The trick was to guide the stone a short distance and then let go.
Only a few of us were able to execute it fully on the first try; Matt seemed to take to it. After two tries and no success, I decided to forget it. The second time I landed on my butt, I felt a twinge in my back – we all signed a waiver absolving the ice rink of any liability – and I decided that I was through with the push-off.
The instructor had noted – or warned – that anyone who hit their head on the ice would immediately be taken to the local hospital. He wasn’t risking any concussions.
Then the instructor showed us how to sweep the ice by placing our brooms – long-handled structures with a smooth bottom, not straws – close to the stone as it moved down the course. The action of sweeping in front of the stone kept it moving toward the house at a steady clip.
We had been divided into two groups, with two instructors teaching us. Now, it was time for a friendly game of curling. As each of the participants – except me and my buddy Kristin, a reporter who was covering the lesson – took turns with the slide, several of us got into the sweeping. Since we were new at this, the instructors told us when to sweep. Soon, I realized that the sweeping was necessary to smooth the ice when the stone started to slow down.
Soon, several people had gotten just as good as Matt on the slide and were on their way to pro-dom.
When we were done, we headed to the bar/café where windows looked out on the women’s professional game, which had drawn a small scattered group of ticket-holders on this weekday (It was sold out on the first weekend day). Someone noted that there was little cheering during the game.
A few minutes later, a loud cheer erupted and I looked over to see a group of elementary students filling a section of bleachers. I couldn’t tell who they were cheering for – there were about six games going on on the ice – but they seemed to be having a ball.
Watching a game I had just tried to learn, I understood why. But unlike them, I understood that it looked easier than it actually was.
