Salon Wanderlust | Stoned on ice

T A B L E_T A L K
Travel by motorcycle: Riders rev their engines in Table Talk

R E C E N T L Y
Après moi, de luge
By Gary Kamiya
Getting a half-second high from the sport that gives a whole new meaning to the expression "balls out"
(02/10/98)
Higher! Faster! Wetter!
By Gary Kamiya
Our half-Japanese man in Japan reports on the thrill of victory -- and the agony of Nagano
(02/09/98)
Mondo Weirdo
By Sarah Schmelling
Why I loved being lonely and sick and far from home
(02/06/98)
Soba, so good
By Koji Yoshii
Savoring Nagano's specialty food
(02/05/98)
The big steamy?
By Courtney Weaver
Searching for sex in New Orleans
(02/04/98)

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__STONED ON ICE _|_ page 2 of 2

Kirsty Hay of Great Britain sends her stone off in a match against Japan at the Kazakoshi Park Arena during the 1998 Winter Olympic Games in Nagano, Japan.
Anyway, we found out that the combined downhill had indeed been postponed. But that opened the door to -- curling, the first Olympic event for non-athletes, the Monty Python of winter spectator sports: an event, it is darkly whispered, that was added to fill the lovable buffoon role, necessary in every Olympics, of Eddie the Eagle, the Jamaican bobsled team and (leaving out the lovable part) Tonya Harding's hit man, Shane Stant. We were stoked. Who needs to see guys rocketing down a mountain when you can watch women who look like they work at 7-Eleven sweeping ice furiously with plump, undersized witch brooms? We took the train back down to Karuizawa, a half-hour ride away, caught a bus and managed to walk into the arena just as the first 42-pound stone went sliding down the ice. And we proceeded to have a fine and entertaining time for the next two and a half hours.
Four women's matches were taking place simultaneously: U.S.-Germany, Great Britain-Norway, Japan-Canada and Sweden-Denmark. We paid most attention to the U.S. match because it was closest to us, but the Japan-Canada one was the crowd-pleaser. Canada is the best team in the world, Japan is a newcomer -- but Nippon took an early lead, to the frenzied, high-school-basketball-fan-squealing delight of the 100 or so Japanese fans (there were maybe 400 fans total, including large contingents from Sweden, the U.S. and Canada), who waved banners and flags, blew horns, shrieked and generally went wild over the 3 mph progress of granite stones. Even when Canada inevitably pulled away, the crowd continued to cheer their heroes, just as they did in women's ice hockey: They have an ingenuous loyalty that is endearing.
Curling is like shuffleboard or bocce ball, only it uses big, smooth stones that are propelled with incredible accuracy down a 146-foot-long sheet of ice. Teams have four members; the game consists of 10 innings, or ends. Whichever team leaves a stone closer to the center of the target, a big bull's eye, gets a point.
I was, I confess, prepared to snicker a bit. I'd seen curling on old "Wide World of Sports" shows, and I remember chortling at the ludicrous earnestness of the sweepers as they engaged in what I was convinced was a completely bogus activity -- how could sweeping the ice with a broom, for Christ's sake, actually do anything? You don't see people sweeping the track in front of runners. Certainly whatever microscopic effect the act of sweeping might have on the stone was outweighed by the humiliation of having to do it.
But my derision vanished quickly, replaced by respect for the skill of the players and the fascination of the game itself. It is a fiercely strategic contest -- stones are placed both to score and to block enemy stones, and whatever team goes last in an end has a major advantage -- and it possessed, in addition to its undeniable silliness, its own odd beauty. There is something delightful in the remarkable absence of friction, something fascinating in how unexpectedly far the stone will slide, moving at a snail's pace. And the games were tense (the U.S. won, 7-5, by the way), filled with brilliant shots and audacious maneuvers and the odd calls of the players. ("Hurry! Hurry!" they shout to the sweepers to make them speed up -- and yes, the sweeping really does have a major effect on the movement of the stone.) Even the sweepers, I realized, have to use some pretty nifty footwork as they scamper down the ice keeping up with the stone.
Should curling have been made an Olympic sport? I can't get too worked up over it one way or the other, but I don't think so -- you might as well elevate lawn bowling to the heights of Parnassus. I still believe the Olympics are about athletics, and curling, for all the enormous skill it requires, just isn't a full-body workout (which was evident from the less-than-buffed physiques of the contestants). But it's a great game, and we left vowing to get stoned ourselves as soon as possible.
SALON | Feb. 11, 1998

PHOTOGRAPH BY DOUG PENSINGER/ALLSPORT
Archived images are provided by Allsport Photography USA, Inc. all rights reserved, any redistribution, resale, re-print or other use is strictly prohibited without written consent from Allsport Photography USA, Inc. directly.


T A B L E_T A L K Travel by motorcycle: Riders rev their engines in Table Talk R E C E N T L Y Après moi, de luge By Gary Kamiya Getting a half-second high from the sport that gives a whole new meaning to the expression "balls out" (02/10/98) Higher! Faster! Wetter! By Gary Kamiya Our half-Japanese man in Japan reports on the thrill of victory -- and the agony of Nagano (02/09/98) Mondo Weirdo By Sarah Schmelling Why I loved being lonely and sick and far from home (02/06/98) Soba, so good By Koji Yoshii Savoring Nagano's specialty food (02/05/98) The big steamy? By Courtney Weaver Searching for sex in New Orleans (02/04/98) Browse the Feature archives		__STONED ON ICE _\|_ page 2 of 2 Kirsty Hay of Great Britain sends her stone off in a match against Japan at the Kazakoshi Park Arena during the 1998 Winter Olympic Games in Nagano, Japan. Anyway, we found out that the combined downhill had indeed been postponed. But that opened the door to -- curling, the first Olympic event for non-athletes, the Monty Python of winter spectator sports: an event, it is darkly whispered, that was added to fill the lovable buffoon role, necessary in every Olympics, of Eddie the Eagle, the Jamaican bobsled team and (leaving out the lovable part) Tonya Harding's hit man, Shane Stant. We were stoked. Who needs to see guys rocketing down a mountain when you can watch women who look like they work at 7-Eleven sweeping ice furiously with plump, undersized witch brooms? We took the train back down to Karuizawa, a half-hour ride away, caught a bus and managed to walk into the arena just as the first 42-pound stone went sliding down the ice. And we proceeded to have a fine and entertaining time for the next two and a half hours. Four women's matches were taking place simultaneously: U.S.-Germany, Great Britain-Norway, Japan-Canada and Sweden-Denmark. We paid most attention to the U.S. match because it was closest to us, but the Japan-Canada one was the crowd-pleaser. Canada is the best team in the world, Japan is a newcomer -- but Nippon took an early lead, to the frenzied, high-school-basketball-fan-squealing delight of the 100 or so Japanese fans (there were maybe 400 fans total, including large contingents from Sweden, the U.S. and Canada), who waved banners and flags, blew horns, shrieked and generally went wild over the 3 mph progress of granite stones. Even when Canada inevitably pulled away, the crowd continued to cheer their heroes, just as they did in women's ice hockey: They have an ingenuous loyalty that is endearing. Curling is like shuffleboard or bocce ball, only it uses big, smooth stones that are propelled with incredible accuracy down a 146-foot-long sheet of ice. Teams have four members; the game consists of 10 innings, or ends. Whichever team leaves a stone closer to the center of the target, a big bull's eye, gets a point. I was, I confess, prepared to snicker a bit. I'd seen curling on old "Wide World of Sports" shows, and I remember chortling at the ludicrous earnestness of the sweepers as they engaged in what I was convinced was a completely bogus activity -- how could sweeping the ice with a broom, for Christ's sake, actually do anything? You don't see people sweeping the track in front of runners. Certainly whatever microscopic effect the act of sweeping might have on the stone was outweighed by the humiliation of having to do it. But my derision vanished quickly, replaced by respect for the skill of the players and the fascination of the game itself. It is a fiercely strategic contest -- stones are placed both to score and to block enemy stones, and whatever team goes last in an end has a major advantage -- and it possessed, in addition to its undeniable silliness, its own odd beauty. There is something delightful in the remarkable absence of friction, something fascinating in how unexpectedly far the stone will slide, moving at a snail's pace. And the games were tense (the U.S. won, 7-5, by the way), filled with brilliant shots and audacious maneuvers and the odd calls of the players. ("Hurry! Hurry!" they shout to the sweepers to make them speed up -- and yes, the sweeping really does have a major effect on the movement of the stone.) Even the sweepers, I realized, have to use some pretty nifty footwork as they scamper down the ice keeping up with the stone. Should curling have been made an Olympic sport? I can't get too worked up over it one way or the other, but I don't think so -- you might as well elevate lawn bowling to the heights of Parnassus. I still believe the Olympics are about athletics, and curling, for all the enormous skill it requires, just isn't a full-body workout (which was evident from the less-than-buffed physiques of the contestants). But it's a great game, and we left vowing to get stoned ourselves as soon as possible. SALON \| Feb. 11, 1998 PHOTOGRAPH BY DOUG PENSINGER/ALLSPORT Archived images are provided by Allsport Photography USA, Inc. all rights reserved, any redistribution, resale, re-print or other use is strictly prohibited without written consent from Allsport Photography USA, Inc. directly.