There are certain moments in the Winter Olympics that truly embody the spirit of international competition – the gut-wrenching pace of a short-track, speed skating final, the grace of a perfectly landed quadruple axel and the gritty determination of a cross-country skiing race.
Very few such moments, however, can match the pure glory of a grown man screaming, “HAAARD,” at the top of his lungs while three other guys frantically scrub the ice in front of a sliding 42-pound chunk of granite with what appear to be oversized Swiffers.
My favorite part of curling is that I have absolutely no idea what is going on. The only term I’ve picked up so far is that the big rocks they are so excited about sliding are called “rocks” – confusing, I know.
Thing is, the people who play the sport get so damn into it that I can’t help but follow their lead. If you haven’t seen curling on TV yet, believe me – they get fucking fired up.
From all the yelling they do, it sounds like the gold medal is on the line during every single shot, and I’ll be damned if those curlers don’t sweep their little hearts out when they get the signal – which, by the way, is “HAAARD.”
Add to that the intense strategizing that goes on between shots and you’ve got the greatest shuffleboard/chess/extreme Swiffering combo event ever to grace the ice at the Olympics.
Give curling a chance. You might not regret it.
Before Torino, the only curls Daily Nexus Editor in Chief Matt Dozier knew of were red, luscious and sprouting from his scalp.