In Defense of Curling
The Winter Olympics are here which means that it’s just a matter of time that someone who knows I’m Canadian will demand that I explain Curling again. Not so much the rules really as the justification. Like how could a sport like this ever get admitted into the hallowed ranks of the Olympics in the first place?
I suppose any good Canadian (after pointing out that it’s not officially the national sport) might lecture thoughtfully about the overlooked nuances of the game. That it involves a subtler, elusive plane of competition not apparent to just any schmo off the street. Or that this noble sport legendarily invented by the Scots melting down cannon balls is really an anti-war pastime. (Yes, “swords to plowshares” and all that.)
This year, however, I’m going with a bold new approach: Ice Curling, I will tell them, must be understood as a deeply metaphorical picture of parenting. (Bear with me.)
That’s right, the sport of sliding big rocks on ice by un-athletic-looking-middle-aged guys is the most serviceable analogy for childrearing out there. Layers of wisdom and insight to unpack here. (It’s a wonder I couldn’t see this earlier.)
In working out the details of my ice curling analogy, however, it occurred to me that many of you have already codified your own parenting metaphor which I completely understand. (The manufacture of parenting metaphors in this turbulent world really has no end.) Parenthood is a wild roller coaster ride. Parenting is like gardening. Parenting children is NOT like coloring books. (“You don’t get to fill them with your favorite colors” author Khalid Hosseini.) And of course, parenting is about being a “Giving Tree” (author Shel Silverstein -soon to be commemorated in a stamp in 2022).
Nevertheless if there is clearly a reason why this sport has any place on the world stage it has got to be its metaphorical potential for understanding parenting. (Not to mention a handy little diversion for those NBC commentators struggling to really say anything about this peculiar sport.)
For one thing Curling is all about the art of the trajectory. Which I think any experienced parent can tell you is a pretty delicate business. Like NASA engineers calculating the right corridor for a space capsule re-entering the atmosphere, it’s all about the right angle. One small miscalculation and folks are ricocheting off into space. (Forgive the mixed-and frightening- metaphor) But just take one look at the serious curler: knees bent, almost in prayerful petition offering his 44 pound baby to the slippery road of life. And then there’s that rather theatrical, long-drawn-out letting go. Watch this closely Olympics fans and then tell me you didn’t get tearful.
To be fair the curling metaphor would be incomplete without also considering those competitors, menacingly (malevolently, really) sliding down the runway, hell-bent on taking you out of the game. What better picture of those calamitous sticks and stones of life. Ok, in the case of curling mostly stones! Big ones! No use in shielding our sons and daughters from the cold hard reality: sometimes in the game of life there are folks who just don’t want to play nice.
Then there’s the matter of all that troublesome bellowing and shouting. (Yes, and here is where our metaphor gets a bit uncomfortable.) But have you ever been to a game? In defense of those shouters, (Olympic or Domestic) might a case be made for needful, strong-lunged instructions? You know, to the team mates?
But not until you look closely at those crazy sweepers does this metaphor really crystallize. Ineffectively trying to broom away invisible obstructions — engaged in a kind of frantic and fruitless kabuki dance. Ever felt like that as a parent? Sure you have! We all have — with Olympian zeal! An ungainly attempt to clear the pathway of undesirables, rigorously trying to sweep away those boyfriends we’d rather not have as sons-in-law. That poor career choice!
Yet what Olympic coverage might not be showing (and this is where the metaphor really becomes beautifully poignant) are all those teammates on the sidelines. Like choruses of uncle and aunts and supportive extended family. And what are they doing? Why, praying of course! (Heaven-ward promises and hand-wringing is the dominant technique in this sport.) Because curling, like parenting is a 25% deal. We only get a hand on the ball for a fraction of the game. These sons and daughters we think are ours will soon have to be released in the world.
So go for the gold parents, and enjoy the games this February! And let me know if you come across any Scandinavians who can explain that skiing/ gun shooting event.
