Curling For Spuds

For some odd reason, this morning I found myself thinking about a particular curling bonspiel I participated in about 30 years ago. It did not go well.

I was on one of two teams from the Detroit Curling Club, and we had driven up to Forest, Ontario for a tournament. There were eight teams in each flight. And as I said, it did not go well. We finished seventh and eighth in our group.

But in the curling world, no one goes home without something. As a food chain was the sponsor of this particular spiel, most curlers won meat entrees. We won ten pounds of potatoes. Each. At four players per team times two teams, that's a lot of taters. And we had to cross the border with them.

On the way home, we pulled up to the gate at the US side and were asked for our IDs (we were travelling together in one big van). The border agent asked the driver, whom I'll call Cloyce just to give him a name, "Purpose of your trip to Canada?"

"A curling bonspiel," Cloyce responded simply.

"Anything to declare?" the guard queried.

Cloyce replied honestly, "Eighty pounds of potatoes."

Without missing a beat the man in the booth said with a smile, "You were in the losers bracket then?"

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Can we take our spuds and go home now?

The dog did it

I woke up laughing this morning. I believe that's because I was laughing in a dream.

I have no idea where we were in this dream, but my buddy Nick and I were out and about somewhere. Probably curling in a weekend bonspiel, as we needed a room for the night. So we find a hotel.

As we begin to fall asleep in this double bed, I look over my shoulder to see Nick lying on his side facing away from me, but so close to the edge of the bed that I though he would fall out. Then I turn away from him, and here's my son's dog Gaspode, a black and white Australian Shepherd. So I start petting him.

All of a sudden Gaspode leaps over me and, taking one big hop on the middle of the bed, he comes down with all four paws against Nick's back, knocking him onto the floor with a loud thud. Then 'Spode just sits in the center of the bed, studying his conquest.

I raise up and start laughing out loud. Then I was petting Gaspode and saying, "Who's a good boy? He's a good boy!" and laughing like all get out. All the while Nick is laying on the hotel room floor stunned.

Then I woke up laughing and, honestly, looking for Gaspode, wondering where he was. I laughed for about ten minutes before I settled down.

You can't make this up. But I sure hope Nick's all right.

An Economics Lesson, or, What Comes Around

I played in a curling tournament this past weekend. It was kind of cool: I never curled in May before, as the curling season typical ends by the middle of April. Since I paid the fee when I registered the team, each other guy owed me $110 bucks.

Dallas showed up and paid me, part of which were two five dollar bills. Jeff, another team member, then approached me. "There's a team 50/50 raffle, and I put us in. So it's ten bucks if you want in too, Marty." I said sure, and gave him the two fives Dallas had just given me.

Jeff caught Dallas a minute later while I still happened to be standing nearby.  Dallas said, "I'm in if you can change a twenty." Handing it to Jeff, Jeff gave Dallas the two fives which I had given him, which I had just gotten from Dallas a few minutes before.

There's an economics lessen there, eh? The money's gotta keep on movin'. And somehow it manages to do just that, even in close quarters.

Bookended

My curling season ended with a loss last night. The wheels came off and we were set down 9-3. That's too bad, because we had a good, solid year. The boys played well in front of me from October through April and made it easy.

Interestingly, we lost yesterday to the team who beat us in the very first game of the season of Thursday league play. We got bookended. In between we were 12-5. On the year, I finished 16-5 as a skip and 20-7-1 overall. Not bad for a guy who didn't think he'd have a curling season last September. But that's the benefit you get when the guys you play with are good curlers, and simply good fellas to curl with.

Here's to the 26-27 season. It's looking good already.

Shout Out to Curlers

I'm going to indulge myself (like I've never done that before!) and give a shout out to my curling teammates from the Thursday night league at the Detroit Curling Club. They may not, and indeed probably will not, see this blog. But I already told them personally how happy I was with their play, so they know.

We began last night's game playing unusually sloppy. We were down 4-0 after an awful first end (ends are more or less equivalent to baseball innings) in which yours truly hurt the team by overthrowing a takeout (trying to remove an opponent's stone from play) and missing completely, given them an easy four. We scored once in the second when my sweepers kept my last rock going to barely win a point, then forced the other team to take a point (I'll just stop explaining now because it'll get too complicated, but that was a good thing under the circumstances) in the third end and were forced ourselves to one in the fourth. So we're down 5-2 halfway through the game.

Then the boys turned it on. We stole the last four ends to win. 

Okay, one more explanation: last rock of an end is called the hammer, because if you play it right you use it to score multiple points. The team with last rock is presumed to have the advantage. You 'steal' an end when you score without hammer. Hammer is sorta akin to batting last, if I may use another baseball comparison. So to steal four straight ends is a significant accomplishment.

I'll admit I wasn't thrilled with our chances after that 4 set us back early, but things snowballed for us. When Jeff, our Vice (throwing third rocks on the team; okay, so maybe I'll squeeze in another aside) drew the top of the button in the sixth end which could not be outdrawn and led us to two for a tie at that point, I knew we'd turned the corner. We stole two in the 7th and 1 in the 8th to win.

Great game, guys. It's why we play, eh?

The Voice

It happened again last night at curling. I had an old friend come up to say, "I heard that laugh, and I immediately thought, Marty's here!" Yes, with the exclamation point.

Remember last week? I had virtually the same thing happen, as I wrote here . While it's good to be known for something, I have to admit stuff like this makes a guy just a bit self conscious and vaguely paranoid. 'Someone told a joke, and I laughed. Was it that laugh?' 

"And you do have a distinct voice," my buddy Nick tells me. Yeah, distinct. I've been told I have a future with the Cartoon Network. Seriously. Right on TV, on a baseball pregame show: Tiger Pregame

Oh, I'm not going to stop. If it's that much a part of my personality, that ingrained after all these years, I probably couldn't if I wanted to. And it is good to be remembered. It leaves me interested for what may happen next Thursday..

Not Curling Too

It's a disappointing thing to talk about.

Charges of cheating were all over the curling world during the recent Winter Olympics. And, I will say, it began to sound a lot like a political discussion. He cheated! I didn't! Followed by a litany of yes he did and here's why along with no he didn't and here's why. At the end of the day I don't know whether he did or not. I could not find a definite answer, quite honestly, because every he did-he didn't seemed to have at least some justification. 

Now there's talk about hiring and training curling umpires. All over a sport which has always taken pride in self policing.

I don't like it. It mars a game I've always loved. Yet it's not the game it was thirty years ago, at least at the highest levels. It's more than the honor system of calling your own violations by the way. At one point anyone could put a team into world and Olympic playdowns to potentially represent your country on those large stages. Now you have to be pretty much a professional curler to qualify. They've even changed the rules to support that. What's the difference between now and then?

Money. Curling is a money game now. Money changes things.

That isn't necessarily bad. Nor is it necessarily good. Yet it's happened, and curling will never be the same. The Milan Olympics have pretty much set that in concrete. 

Fair Tips

After curling one night a group of us went to a pub and grub. One of my buddies, I'll call him Cloyce just to give him a name, left early. He left his credit card receipt on the table after he signed it, adding a six dollar tip for the waitress.

It was a fair tip, to be honest. But not fair enough. I added a one before the six.

At 7:30 the next morning I got a call from Cloyce. He monitors his credit and debit cards religiously. "Did you mess with my credit card?" he asked.

"Now why would I do that?" I responded innocently.

"You did, didn't you? You expletive."

Hey, I was going to give him his money back. But he called me an expletive, so expletive that.

How to Curl

So, you wanna know how to draw to the top of the four foot in curling? Allow the master to demonstrate:

Marty's Draw

Or how about an education on how to call the line on a hit and roll, to remove an opponent's stone and slip yours under cover?

Hit and roll

There's your curling lessons for the day. Come out to the rink and I'll test you.

Word Gets Around

Up until yesterday, I was pretty certain I would not be curling this coming year (the curling season runs roughly late October to early April). We lost our ice in Windsor, Ontario where I had been throwing stones and I didn't think I had options elsewhere. 

Yet the curling fraternity runs deep and strong. Word gets around about who is doing what as a new year at the rink approaches. Three guys looking for a skip on a Thursday league at the Detroit Curling Club discovered I was available and signed me up. It's nice to be wanted. I really can't say how much I appreciate the invite to play. It makes a fella both happy and humble. 

I was mentally prepared for my curling career to be over but now can go on for another year. We'll see how much they appreciate - or regret - their decision soon enough!

Slicing and Hacking

Last night's golf league was brutal. Not only did I play poorly but the weather was rough: hot and humid. I drank two Gatorades and still felt like I had a mild case of heat stroke when I got home. My head felt like I was running a fever.

Next week's Tuesday forecast is calling for a high of 99. I do like golf more than I once did, and generally do better than I once did, but playing in virtually triple digits? I'm already trying to think of an excuse to miss. The golf as a whole that is, not just the ball. I've already become quite proficient at that.

To tell you the truth, and I realize we're talking about extremes and not norms with crazy summer temps like that, but I'd rather be on a curling rink in February than a golf course in June. It's easier to warm up than cool down. 

Not Just a Curler

This past Saturday I went to Canada for the memorial service of my curling friend Brian Woodcock. He was literally one day older than me, but promised to never pull rank.

We tend to put people into compartments, little spots in our own minds which categorize them. Brian curled, so in my mind he was a curler.

I met his wife and mother and a few extended family members. So, he had a family. He had friends too beyond curling with whom I spoke. Then I find out he was active in his Church through the St. Vincent DePaul Society. And he worked as an outreach volunteer for the Windsor, Ontario homeless. And he played euchre at a senior center most Saturdays as a type of fellowship with the aging. Pretty soon he was no longer locked in that compartment where I had put him. He was a man who led a full life, who was much more than just a curler. He was a unique and good human being.

Be at peace, Brian, my friend. Be at peace.

In The Books

Well, another curling season is in the books. We managed a 10-8 win in the five-six game, which means we officially finished fifth. I've done worse.

Our vice Mark, the man who throws third out of four players, saved our bacon. He made two great hits which removed opposition scoring stones and left us scoring instead, and drew to the very button, the very center of the circular target curlers call the house, when that was all we had. I mean, if he's an inch short it could have changed the outcome. If curling had game rocks like football has game balls, he'd get it.

We caught some breaks too, stealing eight straight points (you're said to have 'stolen' points when you score without 'hammer', the last rock of an end) after giving up five in the first end (an end is sort of like a baseball inning, except teams alternate throwing stones rather than all bat/field at once). It's hard to win when they hang a five on you right off, but we figured it out. 

The thing, yesterday was a very rough day at work. Indeed this entire week is daunting. I hardly wanted to play last night. But I'm glad I did. The win makes work just a bit easier to handle.

The Granite

We won last night's curling game at the Windsor Granite Club 6-4 when I made the very last shot, a relatively easy pick where I simply hit the opponent's scoring stone out of the rings, leaving us with two points and the win. The boys played well in front of me, we caught a couple breaks, and I felt I owed them that last shot after having cost the team two points earlier in the game with poor throws. We've now won three of our last four after a long stretch of mediocre to poor play; can we start the season over, please?

I've played in the Windsor Granite Club for most of the last thirty years. To my knowledge, it's the oldest continuous curling league in the Windsor-Detroit area. Yes, the Detroit Curling Club has been around longer yet had no facility for several years in the mid to late 1990s. The Granite has been in play unbroken since 1960. Somewhat ironically and interestingly, the Granite began at the old Detroit club at Forest and Sixth, just five blocks from when I've lived all my life, before transferring to Windsor when the city opened a rink in I think 1979.

But I fear for the league's future. We have seven teams, the least I've seen by far, and I worry that is unsustainable. We need more bodies, more folks to curl with us. There's history there, tradition, even if that only means something to a few of us. 

All good things and all that, and honestly requires I say that it would be no real tragedy if it ended. The world has and will suffer worse injury. Still, for guys like me, it's the Granite. It's my curling home. I don't really want to move.

The Bowling and Curling Worlds Collide

I played in a Tier 55 curling bonspiel this past Wednesday in Bowling Green, Ohio. We did all right, coming in third. Bronze medals are worth something, right?

Yet the best and most interesting thing which happened was running into two old friends, completely unexpected. I had met Humphrey about 25 years ago. He curls out of Fairbanks, Alaska but was in Detroit then, and we curled together. You figure afterwards you'll never see the guy again...and there he was in Bowling Green the other day, to play in that tournament. It was great to see him.

Further, it turns out that a guy who I had bowled with literally 45 years ago for three seasons now curls. I hadn't seen Mike in, well, 45 years. And there he was, a curler now.

Small world. It's stuff like Wednesday which can make life good.

And So It Begins

Today is the day. Today after work I don me curling wardrobe and begin throwin' them stones. Curling starts for the 2024-2025 season. 

We have a new arena with new icemakers. It will be interesting early on because of that. And yes, there is such a thing as curling ice, which is different than hockey ice, which is different than figure skating ice. All ice ain't the same, folks.

Am I ready? Mentally, yes. It's always great to see friends you haven't seen in seven months because the only real contact you have with them is curling. Opening Night means all the joy of that fraternity coming back to the fore.

Physically? Oh, boy. That question will answer itself. I've actually been doing what I'll call light calisthenics for a bit more upper body strength, and I still walk 45 minutes most mornings, 5 or 6 days a week generally. I might actually lose a few pounds if I were to watch what I eat, but who wants to do that? Be all that as it may, I am expecting at least mild soreness in the morning.

But it will be because of curling. I think I can deal with that.

Last Shot

No, it isn't what you think. But headlines are supposed to generate interest, right?

My final curling shot in the Windsor Granite Curling league last night was - I am not bragging because I truly am rather humbled by it - a perfect center guard. I had not thrown a guard all evening. Not because I couldn't (Quiet, Ron) but because one had not been called for me. Then on my very last shot of the game we needed a dead perfect guard. And I made it, with good sweeping and a good line call. Thanks, boys!

I remarked to Dave and Steve, my sweepers, that I didn't know if I could throw the stone light enough to be a guard (don't make me say quiet Ron again) after throwing nothing but draws and hits all night. But there you go. You save the best for last.

I don't know what's going to happen with Granite curling next year. We move to a new arena owned by the City of Windsor and, quite frankly, I think the future of the game in southwest Ontario is, well, uncertain. Still, I'll give it a chance, and maybe make a few decent throws as I go. Either way, last night's last shot was satisfying.

In Knots

I mentioned yesterday that in the curling bonspiel Friday we won one game and tied the other. Let me tell you, that second game was as tied as tied could be.

The final curling score was 4 - 4. Each team won four ends (ends are the rough equivalent of baseball innings). A single point was scored in each end. Both teams stole an end (a steal in curling is when you score at a least one point without 'hammer' or the last shot of an end) and each scored only one point in the three other ends that they had the hammer. Each team scored the same amount of points in the system used for determining the overall winner of a short bonspiel: 10 points per team for the tie, and one point for each end won for four points apiece, a total of 14 points (1/4 points are allowed for score differential, but we didn't have that). So we also tied the tiebreaker score 14 - 14. And incidentally, although we won our first game our opponents tied their other match.

I can't see how it could have been more tied.

That Laugh

All right now, I'm beginning to grow paranoid. Well, more paranoid, or paranoid in another direction, but that's beside the point.

Remember this and this blog post from not that long ago? I explained how I have been told that I have a distinct voice and laugh which makes me memorable. Well, it's happened again.

I played in a curling tournament in Chatham, Ontario yesterday. I haven't been in the Chatham Granite Club in 6 or 7 years. We placed second with a win and a tie. Beyond that, I had a local come up to me and say, "Good to see you again, Marty! I heard that laugh and knew you were back."

As I've said before, it's great to be recognized and remembered. I suppose I am happy that I can make that much of a (hopefully positive) impression on folks. Still, it can cause a guy to be self conscious. 

Will it stop me? Nah. Might as well be known for something.

Being an Adult

Being an adult means having a conscience, right? Well thanks to that, I didn't curl this past Monday.

I had been fighting a cold of some sort all weekend. I felt bad on Saturday and really bad on Sunday. Yet by Monday I was coming out of it. I had graduated to feeling 'all right', though weak, still coughing, and with plugged sinuses. But I was going to curl. Yep, I was gonna.

Then along about Noon that voice in my head began taunting. Basically, it was saying if ya don't work ya can't play. I had left the old barn early to rest up for the curling match. But, Marty, if you're too sick to work you're too sick to play. I called me Skip and apologized I wouldn't make it.

Darn conscience. I suppose I shouldn't want to spread illness anyway.

Yeah, let's go with that. It sounds better.