The bonspiel I remember

I've curled for a few years now, and I have been blessed with enough good teammates over time to have made a mark on the game, at least locally. I've been on two league championship teams and won my share of bonspiels (curling tournaments). Yet perhaps the bonspiel I remember most fondly was the one I didn't win.

A little background is necessary first. There was this woman at the Detroit Curling Club about twenty five years ago, a pleasant woman whom everyone liked, and I just can't dig her name out of the back of my head. I can see her, I can even hear her voice, but I'm drawing a complete blank on her name (and it would be wrong call her Cloyce). I recall that she was a self-described Army brat. Canadian by birth, her father was a career man in the Canadian military and she grew up all over the world. Somehow she and her husband and family ended up in Detroit, curling at the old DCC. She was, as I said, very personable, very likable.

Anyway, one weekend we were curling in a two day tournament, myself, my buddy Rob, my sister, and my son Chuck. It was hosted by the DCC. And everyone played well in front of me, we caught some breaks, and lo and behold, we're in the championship game.

I had never won a bonspiel before. That final game was a good one, tight all the way. Each side made some great shots, each side had a few miscues, and it came down to my last rock, the last shot of the game.

I just missed it. My rock nicked another, just barely touched it, and that little bit of misdirection left my stone maybe a quarter-inch from scoring. We lost a tough game by about as closely as you can come to winning while losing.

To say I was disappointed is quite the understatement. But curling teaches you to be a good sport. We shook hands with our opponents and offered congratulations, and went to the locker rooms to change.

Every other game was done ahead of ours, so everyone else was already sitting at their tables in the viewing area of the Club. I was the first person up from our group, and, admittedly despondent, trudged for our table.

That's when this wonderful woman looked over at me, set her drink down, and yelled, "Yay Marty!" and started clapping. Everyone else began to clap, and there were a few other yay Martys too. I just nodded my head at everyone and sat down smiling. It was a great feeling, like me tell you.

Before leaving the Club that night I gave her a big hug and a heartfelt thank you. I still can't remember her name.

But I will never forget her.