What's a Bonspiel?

I've been thinking it's time for a curling update, and Tim's question in the comments confirmed that. Bonspiel: a curling tournament. Tim made some shrewd guesses:

• A good time? Definitely.
• A good spin? As long as you put the correct turn on the rock as you release it.
• Perchance does it involve a lot of alcool? Frequently. This may interfere with correct turns on rocks.
  

I have heard that "bonspiel" is German for "good game," which is the phrase we curlers always say to one another as we shake hands with the opposing team before and after each game.

This year we have a three-generation family team in the mixed league here in town. The third-generation player is usually James, but sometimes Ruth takes a turn if she's not doing homework or babysitting. We also played in the Boxing Day Fun-spiel, and made it into the B final.

Recent curling news: just over a week ago, in our regular Tuesday night game, Dad (the skip) told me (the third) what shot he wanted, and then took off down the ice at a jog. About halfway down he was suddenly over backwards. I saw his head rebound about five or six inches off the ice surface, and the bang was so loud it brought all the curlers from all three sheets hurrying over and crowding around him. Jason was close, and steadied him as he tried to get up, then eased back down again, with several curlers' gloves quickly tossed onto the ice to cushion his head. In a few seconds he did get up, with helping arms all around. Jason, kneeling in front of him, held up a wide-spread hand and said, "How many fingers?"

Dad paused, grinned, and said firmly, "Four!"

"Well that's normal!" Jason grinned back, as relieved laughter rippled around.

We think the gripper must have come off his sliding shoe, giving him a banana-peel landing for his next jogging step. After retrieving the treacherous gripper, Dad went more slowly the rest of the way down to the hack, and I went back to the rings and tried to remember where he wanted the broom. He missed it badly anyway. His final shot for that end was better, but in the next end he confessed he was feeling woozy and had better go home. He had quite a headache for a couple of days, but the HealthLine nurse gave Mom lots of symptoms to watch for and nothing else appeared.

This Wednesday we were curling again, and we got clobbered. Dad joked that he has a good excuse now, but I think the rest of us needed excuses more than he did. Whenever the other team had last rock, they got three points; whenever we had last rock, we got one. In other words, we were generally outshot, but Dad kept salvaging ends by drawing to the button.

(If all this sounds like I'm mixing in snatches of some other language, you might want to watch the Canadian Curling Association's Flash animation about the sport of curling.)

One more thing: watching curling in Arcola just got better. There are cameras and monitors installed now so that you can sit in the lobby and have a top-down view of the rings at the far end of the ice. Come on out and have a look - maybe watch part of the Ladies' Bonspiel this weekend.

Some people figure that curling must be boring to watch, since there are so few spectators at the games, but I have a different theory: most people who come and watch are soon out on the ice themselves!

We Have a Blizzard

This fanciful image appeared in the Environment Canada weather forecast summary this evening, to symbolize a blizzard. To me it suggests something more like pixie dust. Anyway, the forecast is for a low of -25ºC with winds of 40 km/h gusting to 60, producing a windchill of -35ºC. We're not quite there yet. Tomorrow is supposed to be even colder, but the snow is ending sometime overnight, and that will end the blizzard. There is actually very little snow with this system - a "dusting," they said in the blizzard warning - but it's certainly blowing around. If there was more snowfall, it might not be so cold. This is one of those unusual bits of weather when it's cold but not calm, snowing but not warm. (Well, warm is a relative term, don't you know?)

Garth expected to be on the road tonight, but his meeting was cancelled, so I trust that he is safe in Moosomin where he has been working this week. His brother Brian, on the other hand, drove to Weyburn for a bonspiel.

******

UPDATE - well, that was brief; right after I posted this, I looked again at the forecast and the blizzard warning was ended. I guess we didn't get the four hours of sustained low visibility and cold windchill required to make it an official blizzard.

Curling Season

Curling started on Tuesday night. My Dad is our skip, I'm third, Garth is second and James is playing lead. Ruth is babysitting for some other curlers. They live near the rink, so you might think that we would just drop her off on our way, but she accepted their offer of a ride. A shrewd move, that was, because she figured that going with us might mean walking. Actually she needn't have worried. Garth wants to curl for the exercise, but he wants to get there in his car. So he phoned and offered to drop Ruth off, and I loaded the brooms and sliders into the car. Then I walked, and they drove. I got to the rink first, but of course they had an extra stop.

I was amazed how curling lifted my spirits. Earlier that evening I had to ask Garth to finish making supper while I stormed out and up the street in the teeth of a bitter wind, trying to shake an inexplicable rage. The wind did blow most of it away, and I came back to the meal quietly. As soon as I neared the rink, though, I felt the happiness coming. By the middle of the game, I was remembering Jacob's excellent Remembrance Day address about peace coming from within, and noticing my Dad's easy enjoyment of the sport, and gently choosing not to worry so much about imparting all the rules of etiquette to Garth or keeping James playing up to the pace. The rules and the game itself are only there for the fun.

It was a great feeling just to step back into my little ritual: rock in front of the hack, broom down on the ice to my left; right foot in the hack, left toe up, pull the slider under it, toe down and pull the strap up around the heel; squat and tip the rock, clean the bottom, sweep the cleanings aside, tip the rock gently down and spin it once. Then and only then, lift my head to look down the ice for the skip's instructions. Vital step: point the hack foot's toe at the broom. Dad's advice coming back to mind: keep reaching for the broom.

I was a little shaky at first, but delighted to find myself gradually settling back in to the form I had found last year, with my sliding leg deeply bent so the foot is right under my centre, balancing my weight. A few ends in, I was ready to try to do better, not just do. Kick off a little harder, hold a little longer. Near the end of the game there was one delivery that felt really good.

Something - perhaps the push from the hack - reminded me of the lunges we've been doing at dance class, and made me grateful for that training over the last two months. While sweeping, too, I felt the tug of my abdominal muscles and enjoyed my newfound strength. Last year I built up to that first night of curling with stretches mimicking the delivery pose, but this year I hadn't done any. I trusted the hip stretches from dance class, and sure enough, the flex was there.

We lost the game, but it didn't matter a bit. James was throwing with steady form, using a slider, and getting rocks in the house. More importantly, he was cheery and chatty, open to suggestions, and resilient when his shots didn't go so well. Garth was trying a slider too, and even hinting that he'd take advice about my technique. And Dad was having fun. Coming home with last rock, he was going to try a draw to the button to keep their near-centre rock from counting. As I stood holding the broom and waiting while he went back down the ice to throw, I could hear the murmurs from the other team behind me: "I thought he would have tried that!" There was a narrow hole between the front guard rocks. Sure enough, Dad looked down the ice and called to me to move the broom: he would throw right down the centreline. I had to chuckle at that. He made the shot, too.

After the game, Garth invited Dad to come by our place for hot chocolate. We didn't have to pick Ruth up, because she wouldn't be finished babysitting yet - the other curlers were lingering over drinks. Again I walked, and the others drove. As I came around the corner of the house, they were closing the garage door and coming towards the house as well. "See," I said, "those car things are just a hassle."

Lessons learned on the ice

Sliding is fun.

Falling down hurts.

Sliding is fun.

Fast people are scary.

Still, sliding is fun.

"I can do cross-cuts!"

Throwing your arms in the air in jubilation may drive your picks into the ice.

Falling down really hard on both knees really hurts.

Sliding while falling makes it hurt less.

A diving slide is almost fun.

It is possible to take a chunk out of the ice with a knee.

Rink ice is not very thick.

When you see the wrinkles in the tape that marks the lines, the ice might not be thick enough.

The caretaker might not believe you.

When the ice starts breaking up in the middle of a hockey game that evening, he'll wish he'd listened.

Hockey is fun to watch, once you grow out of your fear of stray pucks.

To win at hockey, you have to play rough, and push the rules to the limits.

In curling, you have to follow the rules exactly, or else the game doesn't work.

I get to curl with some fine people.

Some nights I'd rather play hockey.

First I'd have to learn how to skate.

But walking home from the curling rink tonight, thinking about body checks into the boards, I looked up and saw a great bright ring around the moon.

There were just a few stars showing just inside the ring, like those curling stones that hang around the edges of the house and sometimes mean nothing, and sometimes make a big score all at once.

The ring was too big and subtle for a picture. Maybe someday you'll get to see one like it. I hope so.

Sliding is fun.

Election/Curling Report

I got a call a couple of days ago, asking if I could spare for curling at 9 p.m. on Election night. Then yesterday, Election day, I got a call late in the afternoon from another member of the same curling team, asking if my brother-in-law could spare for him. Then early in the evening I got a call from the skip's wife, saying that a third team member was out with a bad back, but what's more, the skip was a deputy returning officer over in the next town, and hadn't said anything to his dear wife about whether HE had a spare. (If you're counting, at this point you've noticed that all four of the original team members are gone or at least very doubtful.) We called another guy to spare but he said he wanted to watch the election results. (Why?? You can't change them by watching them! He passed up curling with us for THAT!!) So we clawed back one of the real team members from his drama rehearsal and made him the skip, with bro-in-law and I as spares (throwing three rocks each and doing LOTS of sweeping) and won the game for the absent skip/deputy returning officer.

I can see forgetting to vote because you're curling, but forgetting to curl because you're counting votes?! What's this country coming to?

****

p.s. I've been having too much fun lately. No more blogging until I clean out the fridge.

Again!

Well, we had to rush back to town for the finals at the Fun Spiel again this year. Mind you, this year we had Dad as skip, so it didn't seem quite so crazy for us to win some games. (Sorry, Garth, I really enjoy playing on your team, but Dad has been a keen curler for a lot of years.) Last year was bizarre; Garth and I had been curling for a month or so, and before that, we hadn't done anything but the odd Fun Spiel since high school. The kids were in their first year of curling. And we kept winning, including a game against one of the top curling families from the area. "Welcome to Earth, third rock from the sun" (Joe Diffie). We made it into the finals, and then got put firmly in our place. But it was still great fun.

Boxing Day curling is always a good time. There are people visiting home from all over, and people gather up in-laws, children, girlfriends and boyfriends or whoever they can find to make up teams. In the two draws we played in the round robin, there were kids on every sheet, and everybody was helping and encouraging and laughing with everyone else. We had good close games all the way through, and it was great fun to just try whatever and not worry about doing the safest shots. Brian tried using a slider, even though he'd never been comfortable with one before, and he did really well with it.

So we squeaked into the finals, and won our event. It would have been a great day anyway, but I have to admit, it's fun to win, too.

Arcola Community Band is meeting again...

...and even though Mom wasn't there this week, we still had cookies! We have a little bit of everything: beginners and old hands; a huge library of music to satisfy all our ambitions and desires; some keeners to keep us on track, and lots of fun-loving people to make sure we don't take ourselves too seriously. We even have shelves full of extra instruments, if you'd like to borrow one to try something new, or to decide whether to replace that horn that you haven't had since high school. Even if you've never played a single note in your life, you're welcome to come out and see if band is for you. We meet Friday evenings, 7:30 p.m. in the school music room, and we play at various community events through the year. Our next scheduled appearance: we're sitting in with the Arcola School Band at the Grand Opening of the new curling rink, Friday, January 6th.