Last weekend, I achieved a longstanding dream of mine. I finally went curling.
I can’t remember when I realized that I wanted to go curling. Presumably, it was the first time I saw it on television. Unfortunately, we Americans are only exposed to curling once every four years during the Olympics. While other little girls were dreaming of being Tara Lipinski and triple salchowing their way to a Michele-Kwan-ass-kicking, I was more interested in hurling stones across ice and furiously sweeping my way to Olympic gold.
Collegiate players exhibiting delivery of the stone at the 2011 National College Curling Championship (source: MIT Curling Club website, http://web.mit.edu/curling/www)
I first learned about the MIT curling club during orientation. I was thrilled to learn that I could achieve my dream of attempting the greatest sport known to man right here in Boston. I asked to be put on the Curling Club list serve, and before I knew it I was on a bus headed to the Broomstones Curling Club in Wayland, Massachusetts.
Upon entering the club, we were split up into two groups—veterans and rookies. The rookies were introduced to a gentleman named Herb, who promptly gave us his best “Curling for Dummies” speech. We were told that above all, curling was a game of gentlemen and ladies. We were expected to shake our opponents’ hands before and after each match, and to tell them “Good curling!”
Then, I realized something startling as Herb calmly told us about the dangers of curling. This sport takes place on ice! Of course I already knew this, but for some reason the danger of this had never entered my mind. I was suddenly terrified, as I am a person who can barely walk across solid ground without tripping, stubbing my toe, or otherwise causing bodily harm to myself or others. Furthermore, as if ice wasn’t dangerous enough, we were told that we would need to wear sliders under our left feet while we were delivering the stone. Sliders are basically Teflon plates that strap on to the bottom of your shoe. They are invaluable to curlers, but quite terrifying to klutzes like me!
A curling arena with four “sheets”. The three concentric circles are called the “house”. (Source: Wikipedia)
After Herb’s speech on curling etiquette and safety was complete, the other rookies and I nervously entered the rink. Our former bravado was now replaced by a sudden fear of falling, and of the pain and humiliation that such a rookie mistake would incur.
We all grabbed brooms and one by one tentatively tested out the ice. To our great relief, it actually was not very slippery. Curling clubs must constantly spray water droplets on the ice to maintain a “pebbled” surface. The rough surface was actually only slightly slippery without a slider, and before the end of two hours I was running and sweeping with ease.
A curling “stone” or “rock” is made of granite and weighs approximately 40 lbs. Picking up a stone on ice is not advisable! (Source: Wikipedia)
Herb showed us how to deliver a stone, how to sweep, and how curling is scored. It turns out that the graceful delivery of the stone that looks so easy on television is actually difficult to master on the first try! On my first attempt, I was much too afraid of falling to give myself a good push out of the starting blocks, and consequently my stone petered to a pathetic stop mere feet from where I launched it. After that, I gained more confidence. We even played a quick scrimmage, and I’m proud to say that I actually scored a point; a great accomplishment, considering my first attempt at delivery.
Two hours flew by, and we returned to the bus feeling very accomplished. The veterans had returned to the ice after a long summer off, and were happy to be back. The rookies were all very excited about their newfound hobby, and chattered about how it was even more fun than they had expected. All were chilled to the bone, and all were content.
By Dianne Elyse Kamfonik
