Why many are drawn to the Roaring Game

“In sports everything is complicated by the presence of the opposite team.”

—Jean-Paul Sartre

REGINA—For a good chunk of the final game I sat with the Brier media contingent’s favourite international volunteer, Mathieu Chauveau from Marseille, France. He added to the above quote from other French sports reporters and philosophers. He knew Sartre well.

Mathieu mentioned what an emotional final match up we were about to witness. The 44-year draught versus a dynasty. This Brier final didn’t get much better from a historical context. Either way this was curling history in the province whose official sport is curling.

One could feel the anticipation in the air around many parts of Regina. This felt like a Roughrider playoff day, or the Labour Day Classic. Green all around. We saw it at grocery stores, church, restaurants, dogs taking people for walks and, of course, all over the Brandt Centre. Even Slider, the Curling Canada mascot, wore a green Roughrider jersey for most of the final. No biases here in Regina, hey?

Talk about a super Sunday. The Saskatchewan champions skipped by Mike McEwen knocked off Alberta’s Brendan Bottcher in the early afternoon semifinal to set up the evening final versus the Brad Gushue team.

There is something about the way Saskatchewan fans cheer their teams on. It’s almost like a dog’s bark with their many tones. It can be loud, it could be polite, it could be respectful—but there’s a tone to it.

The third end cheer of the semi was loud, very loud, and sounded like maybe this is our day, and we’re going to the final. Tangible hope to stop the 44-year drought.

In the final, the sixth end steal-of-two cheer was really loud—I mean Mosaic Stadium loud—but there was a definite tone of relief mixed with renewed hope as the game had seemed out of reach before the steal. Maybe the comeback was on, but they knew what they were up against. There was still a Newfoundland-Labrador road to climb.

After the seventh end, and just for the heck of it, I mentioned to the media around me that we were located on comeback soil, sharing a parking lot next to Mosaic Stadium. They never missed a beat. As reported earlier there have been more fourth-quarter comebacks in Regina than in all of pro football history, and a stone’s throw away from the curling ice. There was five Regina born-or-based reporters within speaking distance, including CBCs Devin Heroux.

Immediately, Devin kicked it off with the Little Miracle of Taylor Field in 1963, still tied for the biggest comeback in CFL playoff history. Then another said remember the one in ’71—or was it ’72? Then it was the 1983 Labour Day classic and, of course, the big one versus Winnipeg in 2007.

Then it hit me—none of these reporters had been born yet (except for 2007) ... yet they knew the history!

I remember them all and could add dozens to the list, right up to the bizarre comeback versus the Edmonton Elks early last season. The only one mentioned I have no recollection was 1963’s massive comeback. But I heard it so often growing up during football seasons in my dad’s John Deere coffee snake pit room. 

Dad saved the Regina Leader-Post from that one. Actually, I think every Rider fan from that era did.

Then there was the cheer of sincere respect when Team Canada clinched the win. The third in a row for this team, six in the last eight years. For Gushue, Mark Nichols and Geoff Walker their sixth championship ties Randy Ferbey’s record.

The precision shotmaking over these last eight years is amazing, brilliant and bar-raising for the sport. When this team is in sync, which is more often than not, we understand this is one of the sports world’s “beautiful” games and we understand why many are drawn to the Roaring Game.

I use beautiful because of Sarte’s love for soccer. I did use a bit of artistic license, replacing “soccer” in his quote with “sports.”

To quote a New York Times front page story from the Winter Olympics in 2010, “Wall Street has a romance with the curling stone. Curling is like drinking merlot.” You savour the skill and artistry of this unique ancient sport. We got that this week in spades, and we saw the Gushue precision kick in, game after game, particularly after the wonky 2-2 start.

I’m constantly amazed at the entire Gushue team and how they have almost perfected the art of never missing the broom the wrong way, with such weight control, shot after shot. It seems like they operate at a whole other level. We’re probably talking miniscule, in reality, compared to other Brier-level teams but observing their consistency and precision makes me want to switch to a higher-priced bottle of merlot from Bordeaux.

Mathieu was going to spend another week in Canada then fly home for a weekend bonspiel in Paris before he returns to Marseille. His love for the game rivals anything from anyone I’ve ever met. This in a country with 10 curling clubs but no dedicated ice. He said 24 teams are coming in from all over France and parts of Belgium and Holland.

As we said our goodbyes, I asked Mathieu if he was going to skip his team like Gushue and McEwen? He laughed, “I might say when they disagree with me, ‘well this is what Brad did’ or ‘that is what Mike did last week.’ But, oh, no. I would like to, but we got to play to whatever strengths we have on the ice we are given. Try and stay out of trouble, and make what we can.”

I wished him well and Mathieu said, “I hope we met again on God’s green earth.” According to lore this goodbye is from a Scottish poet, originating around the time Scots first starting throwing stones on outdoor ice. Well, that’s what Google said.

And I replied, “On a sheet of curling ice, too.”

Thank you to Regina and all the wonderful teams from coast to coast to coast. What an inspiring week.

I wish Kelowna in 2025 all the best.