For a brief few days every four years, Americans are reminded that the wacky sport of curling can bring the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat. If it weren’t for the Winter Olympics, most Americans wouldn’t even know the sport exists, except for the hardy few in the upper Midwest and other cold-weather states who play the game.
I’m relatively familiar with curling by virtue of getting Canadian network television on our cable system when we lived in Seattle. Although I can’t say I was a regular viewer, on several weekends of constant rain I beat the gloom by watching curling matches from Canada.
For us baseball- and football-crazed Americans, curling is such an odd sport. It’s slow, plodding (OK, baseball critics, point taken) and played by portly guys who likely spend their summers on beer-league softball teams.
With some amusement, I followed an ad on Facebook this morning to curlinghats.com, which offers curling hats in red, yellow and blue. I don’t quite have the funds at the moment, but eventually I’ll have to get one of these, if only to serve as a companion to my Wisconsin cheese head.