Lest you all be deceived, let me dismiss any preconceived notions of sporting greatness by letting the cat out of the bag. The winner of The Greatest Sport on Earth is none other than curling.
Y’see, I owe my very life to this great sport. My parents, Stan and Chris, MET whilst on a curling team in the Motherland. I don’t know what the initial connection was. Maybe she liked the way he threw that big ol’ heavy rock like a hunka-hunka burnin’ love. And I’m sure he was enthralled with her sweeping technique. I mean, what man wouldn’t? It was, after all, the 60s.
For this reason, I felt it requisite to participate in the curling competition during the Salt Lake Olympics. So maybe I wasn’t an actual Olympian but I did make it to the podium (see photographic evidence below). My best friend Stacey was in town from Canada with her sister, Heather. We decided to hit the Olympic Strip one day, which hosted tons of booths and Olympic activities.
The Coca-cola tent was the highlight of the strip. Not only could you go down a mini luge run but there were several interactive Olympic games, including curling. Heather and Stacey were proudly toting Canadian hats and upon entering the tent, a cute guy asked if they were Canadian. When they responded affirmatively, he requested their autograph. I barely had time to shout at him that I, too, was Canadian but he seemed unimpressed.
We opted to participate in the curling competition. I didn’t want to stress the girls out but in addition to my inbred curling roots, I also took a unit of it in high school. I was the first to throw my rock down the ice towards the house. I made some good shots and was immediately sent to stand on the gold-medal position of the podium to await the rest of the competitors. I fully expected to stay there.
Until Stacey went. In just a few shots, she knocked me down to Silver. And then came Heather. In a seamless throw down the ice, she humbled both Stacey and I, claiming the Gold medal position. Suddenly I, the person with curling in my veins, was only Bronze-worthy!
I’ll stop there. I won’t even get into how the little 7-year-old boy who followed knocked me out of contention all together. Me. The very offspring of curling itself. He never actually claimed his prize; something about being knocked out by a curling rock. Hey, what can I say? Tonya Harding isn’t the only one with a few tricks up her sleeve…..
I'm a Canadian-born mom of two, former Denver Post columnist, family travel writer, editor of MileHighMamas.com and 9News contributor. Expert on all things Utah, Denver, family and travel. Lover of laughter and life. Happily married to a man obsessed with growing The Great Pumpkin. 