I’ve done the exercises that Mary The Physical Therapy Lady has prescribed, and, also as prescribed, I’m icing my knee. Just sitting with ice on my knee and staring off into space is not very exciting, so I need to come up with a way to entertain myself. I thought of watching the skin on my legs get wrinkled and old looking. Wait, it already is, so that’s out. No one is painting our walls so I can’t watch paint dry. I have an idea! I’ll watch the U.S. men’s Olympic curling team play Sweden! All three of those choices are equally exciting, right?
Before 2006, I don’t think I was even aware of a game called curling. I know for sure I didn’t understand the game, so watching it would have been a boring chore. It would not have happened.
Bemidji's Olympic Curlers - 2006.
Then, in February 2006 when we were living in Bemidji, I turned on the TV to watch the Winter Olympics in Italy, and the first image I saw when the TV came on was a familiar face. I yelled to Nancy, “Come look at the TV. The guy who was working the cash register the last time we ate at Dave’s Pizza is curling for the U.S. in the Olympics!” We looked on in surprise and realized that the person who was about to slide a stone down the ice was Pete Fenson, the owner of Dave’s Pizza in Bemidji. We had no idea he was an Olympic athlete and an international celebrity, and we didn’t know then that Bemidji was one of the major curling centers in North America.
I continued to watch that game, and I watched other games during the next few days. I watched the game that gave the Pete Fenson rink (team) the Olympic Bronze Medal. Pete’s final shot to win the game was an exciting moment, and it got me hooked on the game. Nancy and I even went to the Bemidji Airport to be part of the crowd who welcomed the U. S. curling teams home from Italy.
Those first games on TV were a puzzle to me. I didn’t understand the scoring or anything else. It looked like a weird shuffleboard game. As I watched more games, I learned from the announcers, and I read about curling on the Internet. The more I learned, the more interesting the game became. I thought it would be fun to learn how to curl, but the season was almost over by then.
In the Fall of 2006, a course catalog for adult education classes arrived in the mail. A beginner’s curling class was on the list, and I enrolled.
The classes were held in the Bemidji Curling Club one night a week for several weeks. Primarily, the classes focused on the traditions, etiquette, rules and flow of the game. Relatively little time was spent on the ice, but the classes proved to be invaluable.
We learned that curling etiquette is an extremely important element of the game. The rules of etiquette are largely unwritten. Most of these rules are as old as the game. Failure to observe them will cause one to be unwelcome on teams and in curling clubs.
One of these rules that sets curling apart from other sports is that openly criticizing
a teammate or opposing team member for a poor shot is just not done. Saying a quiet “Nice shot” is OK if a shot is well made, but you will never hear anything like, “That shot was really stupid. What were you thinking?” Essentially, the game is quietly and respectfully played. Teams and individual players strive not to draw attention to themselves except through their performance on the ice. It’s almost as if the game was designed by Norwegian Lutherans.
Most of the last couple sessions of this curling class was spent on the ice. I was anxious to get out there. Seeing others shooting, sweeping and moving easily around the ice gave me the impression that this would be a piece of cake. It looked easy, and, after all, I grew up in a place where ice is common, and I never had any trouble with it.
So, there I was on the ice for the first time. We were being shown some shooting basics, and I was just standing there listening and watching, then — BOOM! — I’m flat on my back. How did this happen? Must have been some foreign material on the ice. Someone is asking me if I’m OK. I say sure and get up.
I’m standing there listening to the instructor again, and I decide to move over a bit to see what he is doing. BAM! I am looking up at everyone again. I get up, but now I can see that this is very much different than the ice on the sidewalk in front of Larson’s Grocery Store or the outdoor skating rink in Cooperstown. I can see this can be hazardous to my health. Broken bones and old guys don’t mix. My confidence changes to caution.
Then there’s learning how to shoot the rock. That low, crouching position that shooters use to gracefully slide down the ice and release the rock looks simple. I can handle that. Sure I can. Want to embarrass yourself? Try it. That is definitely a learned skill and not an easy one.
So, at first, my priority is to do some kind of slide down the ice with the rock in front of me without tipping over and sliding down the ice on my butt. Once in awhile I felt like the rock was shooting me. After some practice, I develop a rather strange looking shooting posture, but it seemed to work with my bad knees. I learn to stay upright most of the time, and I begin to improve shooting accuracy. I begin to understand the complex relationship between the ice, the rock and me.
I could have used a shooting stick and stayed upright while shooting. People who can’t crouch down to shoot can use those, but I was darned if I would resort to that during my first tries at curling. Just didn’t seem right.
Early practices and games are very frustrating and embarrassing much of the time, and it would be easy to stay home and protect my dignity. Occasionally I would have a good day, and could shoot pretty well. Those days had kind of a narcotic effect and kept me going back to the curling club.
After “graduation” from the class, I was able to start curling in a league. Teams are organized into leagues, i.e. Senior Men’s League, Senior Women’s League, Mixed League, Businessman’s League, etc.
The first league I got in was the Senior Men’s League. It was a good league for beginning curlers. Most of the guys in the league had been curling most of their lives and were very good. Some had been on teams that had won championships. Thankfully, they were patient with a beginner and many of them were willing to share their knowledge.
After one of the games in this league, I was invited to join a team in the Businessman’s League. The skip was a retired optometrist. Another team member was a retired grocery store manager. We never had a permanent fourth member, but we usually were able to find someone in the clubhouse who would curl with us.
Bob Fenson
One of the first games we played as a team was against a team in which Bob Fenson was skip. Bob was the coach of his son’s Olympic 2006 team. He was also the curling club’s manager and ice maker. We beat them!! Talk about luck. We were stoked, especially me. To this day, I think that Bob gave us a gift.
On game days, I usually went early to the curling club to shoot a few dozen rocks before the first game. Bob Fenson was almost always there working on the ice, etc. Many times he would come out on the curling sheet with me to give me pointers and encouragement. Many days, I needed that encouragement. I very much appreciated Bob’s help. I learned there is probably not a nicer person on the face of the planet.
I haven’t been on curling ice since that winter of 2006-2007. I think that one season is all I needed anyway. Curling for the first time at age 68 is not the best time to start. My bad knees didn’t help either.
But I am very glad that I got out there and stuck with it that winter. I met some great people and learned to love a wonderful game. If someone builds a curling center in Southern Arizona, I may try it again. My knees will be ready this time.
