Curling: The Most Canadian Infrastructure We Have
Curling is not a hobby in this country. It’s infrastructure. It’s cultural bedrock. It’s the sport that quietly shaped us long before we had a flag, a railway, or any idea how to pronounce “about.” I never tried the sport, but my sister did in her teens and loved it. When I worked for Ritchie Bros. Auctioneers, Lisa, a co-worker was on the BC Team and went back east to the Scott Tournament of Hearts! We all watched her with joy and although they didn't win, they had a great time. All moms and all very good curlers.
The first curling club in North America opened in Montreal in 1807. Thomas Jefferson was President of the United States, and Canada didn’t even have a Prime Minister yet—we wouldn’t get one for another six decades. Curling existed before Canada, which technically makes curling more Canadian than Canada itself.
This sport predates the lightbulb, the telephone, and most of our vowels. We were sliding rocks on ice before we had a national identity, and honestly, it shows. Curling fits us perfectly: slow, polite, rule-heavy, and powered almost entirely by volunteers named Doug.
A Sport Built on Strategy, Not Swagger
You don’t win curling by overpowering your opponent. You win by placing one irritating rock in exactly the wrong spot and forcing the other team to think about it for a full minute. It’s not aggression—it’s diplomacy on ice. If Canada had a foreign policy mascot, it would be a granite stone with a handle.
And don’t think we take this lightly. Our first women’s Olympic gold medal in curling came in 1998 under the leadership of Sandra Schmirler, a name spoken with reverence in rinks across the country.
A Nation of Curlers
Canada has more than 1,000 curling clubs and roughly 1.2 million active curlers in a country of 40 million. That makes curling one of the highest-participation sports per capita in the world—yes, even ahead of hockey.
If you’ve ever tried throwing a 42‑pound rock down pebbled ice while someone in polyester screams “HARD! HARD!” at you, you know it’s not for the faint of heart. Frankly, a couple of hair dryers might be more effective than a broom, but tradition is tradition.
Why We Care So Much
So yes, we argue about curling. Passionately, because when the world feels loud, chaotic, and out of your control, curling offers something rare: a universe where the chaos moves at three kilometers an hour and you can literally sweep your problems away.
It’s therapy. With rocks. And beer.
