History Lesson on Curling

Here now, to try to explain curling and why it is so dear to Canadians and why we excel at it, is a brief, unofficial history of curling.

Many people don't realize, but most places in Canada, beer is sold at "The Beer Store" (formally "Brewers Retail"). The Beer Store exists so that the government can control the taxes on alcohol, and so that they can have a stricter control on the sale of alcohol to minors. This is key to our story, as one day, an unexpecting patron of a Brewers Retail location was about to start the greatest craze in Canada since the self heated, one-piece snowsuit. (More on that some other time)

It was a fine, crisp Saturday morning in St. John's, Newfoundland. Jimmy McKinnon and his brother Blair, cod fishermen by trade, had just finished the morning chores of hauling in wood for the pot bellied stove, when they'd realized they'd need to head for the local Brewers Retail to pick up a two-four (slang for a case of beer sold with twenty-four bottles) for the shin-dig they were having that particular evening. They jumped in their light blue, Chevy half-ton pickup, with the vinyl bench seat and headed for town. There had been a storm the night before; a combination of freezing rain and about 52cms (or 20 inches) of snow; a typical winter flurry for the Maritimes this time of year. But the freezing rain had created a sheet of glare ice under the snow, and it had made driving treacherous. By the time they pulled into the parking lot of the Brewers Retail, it was already after noon. A large front-end loader (likely owned by the Gravelle brothers - they did most of the haulin' in these parts) was just finishing up moving all the snow to one end of the lot. The boys pulled up in front of the store beside another pickup belonging to one Doug MacDona, and headed in.

"Hiya. Billy. How she goin', eh bye?" Jimmy says to Billy Martin, who's going on his tenth year behind the counter at the Brewers Retail. "I'm gonna need me a 2-4 of Moosehead." "And a 2-4 of Keith's for me," pipes up Blair. Billy yells their order into a big silver microphone, and like magic, 2 cases of beer appear on the roller assembly to the left of the cash. They give Billy their money; tell him to stop by the house for a pint or two tonight and they head out. As the automatic door opens for them, they notice that Doug MacDona, has slipped on the ice and his 2-4 of Labatt's 50 has skidded across the parking lot. The boys head out to see if old Doug is OK, and sure as Bob's yer uncle, they both land flat on their kiester as well. Both the case of Moosehead, and the Keith's make their way across the parking lot. First the Moosehead hits the case of 50, moving it some 5 feet and slightly off to the left. Then came the Keith's, slightly harder, moving the Moosehead with some force, back into the
case of 50, which in turn had now been moved to edge of the snow bank Gary Gravelle had built up at the edge of the lot. All three of the men were now sitting up watching their beverages careen off each other, and all three started to laugh.


"Ya know, Jimmy, If I'da pushed that case a little harder, I coulda gotten yers up on the snow bank along side Dougie's."

"You done bonked yer head lad. You couldn't hit my case again from here if you had four rabbit's feet and last night's lottery numbers."

"Not only could I hit yer case, Jimmy, but if you put it in between the yellow lines of that there parking spot, I'll knock it right out."

"Yer dreamin! I'll bet ya a beer ya can't hit it."

"Yer on."

Jimmy went and put his case of Moosehead right in between the yellow lines of a parking spot by the edge of the lot, some 30 feet away. Blair slid his case along the ice to where they both agreed the starting spot would be, he grabbed the cardboard case by the perforated handles in the sides, he wound up and slid it along the ice. It was a clean hit. The case of Moosehead moved clearly out of the parking spot. Jimmy stood and starred. "Well if that don't beat all." Jimmy went over and pulled open his case of Moosehead, handed a bottle to Blair and took one for himself. "I gotta try that."

And hence, curling was born.

This went on for some time; the two men standing out in front of the Brewers Retail, tossing their beer cases back and forth across the parking lot, and of course, consuming quite a bit of alcohol. They discovered that different shots produced different results. If they hit just the left corner of the stationary case, they could get it to move hard to the right, while the projectile case would veer sharply to the left. If the cases hit square on the ends, the stationary case would move straight back, while the projectile case would become stationary, or 'stick' in it's place. They were just starting to get fairly accurate with their shots, when all of a sudden, something very strange happened. Blair had taken a toss with his case of Keith's, but as it approached the awaiting case of Moosehead, it slowed, then it stopped. The boys went over to see what had happened; maybe it had hit something; maybe the cardboard on the bottom of the case was getting wet and sticking to the ice. But when they looked down, like a light coming on, they figured out the problem. It was now about 3 in the afternoon. They had been at this for sometime, and each case was down to about 14 bottles. The cases were getting lighter, and as a result, without the extra weight in the case, they were starting to slow down as they passed over the small chunks of ice and rock in the parking lot.

Jimmy went back into the Brewers Retail, and says to Billy, "Billy! We got a bit of a mess here in the parking lot. Would you mind some if I borrowed this broom to clean it up a bit?" "Uhya. But you make sure to bring it back, now, Jimmy McKinnon."

So Jimmy heads back out to the parking lot, three sheets to the wind after almost a dozen cold ones, broom in hand, and he starts sweeping. He uses the broom for balance, and to avoid slipping, he slides one foot on the ice, while pushing off with the other, and sweeping the broom quickly across the path of the cases. Blair, thinking it would be funny to see Jimmy take a spill on his can, tosses his case down the runway. Jimmy looks up and says, "Whatayadoin', bye?" and quickly tries to get out of the way by moving left, still holding the broom for balance. And then, an amazing thing happened. The case followed the path of the broom, slowed, and came to rest just at Jimmy's feet; a full 2 feet off the beaten path.

"Lord Tunderin' Jimmy. What happened?"

"I don't know Blair. Let's try it again. But this time, you get down and watch the case from behind and tell me which way to sweep."

So Blair throws the case again and gets down to watch it. Jimmy is sweeping like a madman, but his arms start to get tired and he lets up a bit. The case starts to slow down. "Sweep Jimmy; hard."

"Whatzat?"

"Sweep - hard."

"Eh?"

"HARD!"

And thus, a sport was born by two drunken Canadian Maritime boys who spent the day in the parking lot of the Brewer's Retail discovering the physics of deflection and friction. To this day, many a curler can be heard using Blair's original call of "Hard!" and I don't think I have to tell you that some of the best curler's around are still from its birthplace in the Maritimes on the Eastern coast of Canada. Many of the best - fans included, have also been known to be able to throw back a pint or two in the tradition of the games origins. If you don't believe that, go to any curling event, also known as a 'Brier" and ask them where the 'Brier Patch' is. In this smoky pit, located in the bowels of curling arenas nationwide, you will find curlers and fans alike, drinking beer by the pitcher, wearing strange woolen hats with large pom-poms on the top, and jackets with more buttons on them then a 7 year veteran Wal-Mart cashier. It is their sport. It may not be as physical as hockey or football, at least not until you hit the Brier Patch, but it is emotional, and stressful, and, the odd time, it can be obscene (does anyone remember Wayne Middaugh flipping the bird to the spectators at the 2001 Brier in Ottawa?)

Incidentally, if you were wondering why they call the curler who shoots the rocks 'Skip', it goes back to that day in the parking lot.

As I told you, Jimmy and Blair McKinnon were Cod fisherman. The boys had a boat named Aurora Borealis that employed 20 men. Blair was the captain of that rig, and as such, went by the nickname 'Skipper'. While making a shot in that parking lot that day, Billy Martin came out to get the broom that Jimmy McKinnon had not yet returned, saw Blair take a nifty curve shot to just edge out the case of Moosehead to the left of the parking spot, and he yelled out, "Nice shot Skip!" which was overheard by the small crowd that had gathered to watch, and the name stuck.

So next time you see curling on the TV, raise a glass and toast the two drunken idiots who didn't realize they had done nothing more then combine two sports - drinking and bowling, moved it onto a sheet of ice and created what we now recognize today as curling.

Truth be told, the word 'curling' is Inuit for "drunken ice bowling".

So there you go