Remove the Wrapper and all Hell Breaks Loose…
Wait just a doggone moment, you’re saying, he’s back on this Broomgate thing?
Sure. Of course I am. Broomgate isn’t over. Buried on a back burner maybe, but still simmering away and possibly building again to a full on, frothing boil.
There were just a few more interesting things to report before bringing you back here. And, quite frankly, once I knew we were playing in a Slam I thought it best to hang back and observe just how Broomgate, and its offspring the Sweeping Summit, was impacting the so-called big boys. Continue reading “Broomgate Part Three”
Fixing The Slams
I meant to post this a few days earlier but life, as usual, throws you the odd curveball now and then. Besides, I’m hanging with my daughter. And she’s waaay more fun than you folks. However, I did decide I should get this done and dragged my ass out of bed at 4am to finish it-just for you. So thank God for coffee. Insert polite, appreciative applause here please.
Continue reading “Cranbrook, Part Three”
It’s not a big secret to anyone who knows me, I don’t like the Grand Slam of Curling events. But understand this; I don’t want to dislike them.
The initial premise, started years ago, was done with the best of intentions and a very simple aim: to grow and promote the competitive side of the game with an eventual, lofty goal of professionalism. Continue reading “Cranbrook Part 2-Why the Slams Are Bad”
Authors note: Originally I envisioned this as a single blog entry. Unfortunately, it morphed into a huge monstrosity. So, for the sake of the reader’s patience, I decided to break Cranbrook into a couple of blogs, focusing first on our participation in the event itself, then on the Slam concept itself. Continue reading “So? How Did It Go at The Slam?”
Distractions, Being Reminded You’re Old…
With a three week break between events I’d hoped to catch up on Broomgate and a few other odds and ends, curling and non-curling. It’s what happens to a competitive curler in real life. You step out of reality to play in an event, then catch up with the world for a few days or weeks in between, all while prepping for your next spiel. Continue reading “Better Late than Never…”
The Teehead is a Lonely Place, Karmic Chicken Wings
I initially started this entry like the ones for the Cloverdale and Vernon Cashspiels. The idea of a daily recap with insights into different aspects of the sport at a competitive level, both on and off ice. As the weekend unfolded, and we exited far earlier than hoped for in a manner unexpected, all I came up with were lengthy, dreary recounts of how we lost games we should have won against opponents we are far better than (IMHO of course).
The resulting effort was so depressing I would have had you looking for sharp objects to end your suffering. Continue reading “Oct. 15-17, 2015 Kamloops Cash”
A Missed Opportunity, Feeling Bad for the Skipper, But That’s the Nature of This Stupid Game
Sunday began with another feline alarm clock going off before my own. At least this time she let me sleep 30 minutes longer than Saturday. After the ritual I got to work making a good, greasy breakfast for Shawn, Brant and myself. One 500G package of bacon, two large Russets chopped into hash browns and fried in most of the rendered bacon fat and, lastly, 8 eggs scrambled in the remainder of said fat with a bit of Grand Padano grated in at the last. Coffee (whatever’s on sale. I am not a coffee snob) for Eklund and I, Earl Grey tea for Brant. Continue reading “Vernon Cash-Day 3”
A Very Good Day and, WTF? Another Footlong Falafel?
I have two alarm clocks, three-if you count the one on my phone. One is an old clock radio beside my bed. The second is a small, red-furred, female feline who seems to know precisely when its 15 minutes to wake-up and wishes to deny me that last few moments of snooze time. My cat is cute and she was chosen as a kitten by my daughter (christened with four names: Star Princess Sparkle Sexton), but I like those 15 minutes. Nevertheless, it’s hard to get pissed off at a little purring furball poking your nose with its cold one saying, in effect; ‘time to get your lazy ass out of bed. And, BTW human slave, did you clean out my litterbox yet?’ Continue reading “Saturday, Day 2 of the Vernon Cash”
How to Almost Win a Game Playing Lousy
It’s just before 9am on Sunday morning in my home in Vernon. Coffee steaming in my Tweetie Bird mug beside the laptop, I have a few extra minutes before the front end rouse themselves from their stupor and our day begins. Time enough for a quick recap on the events of the past two days in the Vernon Cash.
The boys arrived late Thursday night, driving up from Vancouver in Stephen’s Kia. Our front end, Brant Amos and Shawn Ecklund, are staying with me while Stephen basks in luxury at the Prestige Inn. I only have three bedrooms in the condo and he’s a notoriously light and poor sleeper. The snoring that Shawn and I allegedly make would keep him up, so he opts for a room of his own. No biggie, we want a rested, non-grumpy skip after all. Continue reading “Vernon Cash Sept 30-Oct 2, 2016 Day One”
(Warning: Part 2 of contains some technical stuff that no matter how you dress it up might be boring. But it’s important. So go get a coffee and try to keep your eyes open)
During the 1980’s a strange happened. Ice gradually began to become straighter and faster. Rocks were curling less and in some cases not at all-even going backwards (or ‘falling’)-and slow ice suddenly became lightning quick. Now quick ice wasn’t really considered a problem. But ice where rocks wouldn’t move? With curl disappearing, you couldn’t draw around a guard to hide your stone and force a miss from your opponent. Continue reading “Broomgate-History Part 2: WTF Happened to The Curl?”