Photo by Anil Mungal, The Curling News.
Some of the competitors at the Olympic curling games have been complaining about the noise fans are making before, during and after key shots. Funny thing, the Canadian curlers love it! And why not? The noise demonstrates that the fans are really into the game, excited and engaged and, most importantly, following the action. What’s to complain about?
Well, apparently there’s lots to complain about: just Google “Olympics curling noise” and you’ll find a whack of articles from news sources around the world, some simply reporting, some offering editorial comment on the tendency of the crowd to cheer or boo throughout the action. It’s a new topic of conversation for the curling world, since in Canada and at other international events, the fans tend to be older, curling-savvy spectators who follow the unspoken rule: silence while curlers are throwing.
I wonder what baseball pitchers would think if the crowd buttoned it down for every pitch? Or hockey players taking a shot during overtime? Or a kicker in football? Why are we silent in some sports (golf, tennis, curling) and raucous in others?
(I can tell you that when I get into the hack to throw a shot in my Monday Night League, it’s not exactly silent. I bet any of those Canadian curlers out there on the ice have been playing in noisy club leagues and bonspiels all their curling lives, and the noise isn’t going to bother them.)
The issue might be trickier when it comes to partisan fans booing opposing players as they get down to throw. The traditional etiquette of the game calls for respect for one’s opponent on the ice, and yes, that should extend to the stands as well.
But good-natured, enthusiastic, roof-raising noise – or 5000 voices singing O Canada?
Love it or hate it, this could be the new trend in curling as a spectator sport.
Curling takes a lot of abuse. Boring, watching paint dry/grass grow, not an Olympic sport – these are some of the comments thrown our way by the uninitiated.
But Globe and Mail TV columnist John Doyle has an open mind. Readers know that soccer is his game, but he’s not above giving a few plugs for curling. Now, John is approaching the game as a TV critic, remember, so his take on curling has much to do with the visual rather than the sporting aspects of our sport. And he finds lots to comment on about curling as a TV sport: in particular, the attractions of women curlers. Remember the whole Colleen Jones thing a few years ago?
He’s moved on, and today’s article in the Globe and Mail is worth a look.
OK, so he has to make the “hard, harder” joke. Yes, yes, very funny. But he also refers to our “dead cool” Canadian team, led by Cheryl Bernard, and makes an indignant reference to the deadbeat who stole Miriam Ott’s uniform and curling shoes from the team van in Winnipeg. In other words, it’s not all “poke fun at the curlers” in today’s article.
In fact, he gets it absolutely right: “Tuesday’s Canada-Switzerland matchup was thrilling. A tense, tricky 5-4 victory for Canada,” Doyle writes.
Now, I wonder if he noticed that wonderful moment when Bernard accidently stopped a Swiss rock after a take-out, and Ott – in the spirit of curling that is unmatched by any other sport – simply moved the stopped rock to where she thought it might have rolled to: the back of the 12-foot. Ott could have chosen to leave her rock in the 4-foot, where it might have counted in the score. That’s her right as the non-offending skip in a burned rock situation. But of course, she didn’t. And she lost the game by 1 point.
Women curlers are great to watch, John; you’re absolutely right.
And if you want to check out some great photos of men and women curlers at the Olympics, check out the VANOC curling site, here.
-lived career as a "competitive" curler happened in the small town of Vankleek Hill, in Eastern Ontario. I joined a team with three other novices and we entered bonspiels and events intended expressly for "new" curlers with less than 3 or 5 years' experience. We had a blast travelling around to clubs in our region and as far away as Ottawa and Montreal.
A few weeks ago, my curling buddy Alma Laidlaw came closest to the pin at The Swiss Chalet National Grand Slam event at the Sleeman Centre in Guelph. There, during the fourth-end break, she out-drew five other contestants and won a trip to Winnipeg for the big, really big, chance to draw the button for $1 million in the Capital One Million Dollar Button contest.
“So what’s your strategy?” I asked her before her draw in Guelph.
“Throw it and pray!” she answered. (There’s Alma, bottom right in the the photo, taken before the draw at the National on January 10).
Well, her “prayer” has been answered. She’s done it again and out-drawn five other semi-finalists to earn the chance for $1 million. During the fourth-end break of the final game on Sunday, she’ll be out there in front of the crowd, throwing and (I’m pretty sure) praying.
She’ll be nervous, that’s for sure. But she also told me that the trip to Winnipeg with her husband, George, being treated like gold by the Capital One folks, and simply having the chance to participate in this event is all the prize she needs: she already feels like a winner.
And she is! Go Alma!
There are those – the Uninitiated – who say that watching curling is like watching paint dry. Of course, curlers know how true that isn’t. The game has its own rhythm and flow depending on the strategy, the conditions of the ice and the players themselves.
Watching the first eight (unbroadcasted) draws at The Swiss Chalet National Grand Slam event in Guelph was an exercise in constant motion, action, energy and sound. Five sheets of ice, forty players – there was always something to see and hear, something happening. The eight-end games took two hours or less to play (unless there were extra ends) and some draws felt as if they were over much too soon.
Enter the CBC (who we love, don’t get me wrong!) and the demands of bringing the excitement of curling to the fans watching at home. That means camera crews trailing lines of cable, bright lights illuminating the ice, an on-air crew, and the importance of putting on “a show.” But camera crews often stand in the best spot possible to see the action – great for the fans at home; not so great for the three rows who now can’t see the house. Lights produce glare. Announcers need time to talk, whether providing a pre-game commentary, or interviewing a player on the ice between ends. The result: a loss of rhythm, flow and energy – at least for the fans who had become used to the game au naturel (i.e. seen only in the arena, not on the airwaves).
The players obviously appreciate the attention that curling now receives on television; in fact, it’s a crucial part of the game’s current high profile. National championships, international events like the Continental Cup, Grand Slams – all good. All fantastic, actually. So when the commercials are rolling and the broadcaster asks the players to chill between ends instead of getting right down to it, what do the curlers think? From the looks of it (above, Team Howard and Team Appleman wait for the ok to resume) they don’t mind a bit.
The game is growing, and television is an important and welcome reason for that growth. Now if broadcasters could just find a way to keep the flow of the game intact for the fans in attendance, that paint-drying image would be put to rest forever.