Slipping back into the cold comfort of curling in Sochi
The ebb and flow of ‘lawn bowls on ice’ makes for easy viewing despite the low temperatures indoors
Great Britain’s Skip Eve Muirhead in action during their Curling Round Robin match against Sweden at the Ice Cube Curling Centre. Pihotograph: Andrew Milligan/PA Wire.
The cold hits you in the face the second you close the door behind you. Harsh on the nostrils, wet on the eyes. This is it, finally. Winter cold at the Winter Olympics. You grab your coat by the sleeve-ends and zip it up to the neck.
Fish in your bag for that arctic-grade Cossack hat that seemed a bit much at the time you bought it but makes you feel pretty clever now. Take your seat and look around you, thinking what everyone else is thinking. Air conditioning is a bitch.
It was another day of blue skies and warm air in Sochi yesterday, with the temperatures getting up to 16 Celsius. So balmy was it up on the mountain that they had to cancel practice on the ski jump because the snow in the landing area was melting. If you wanted any sense of what it was to be around winter sport, you had to go indoors.
To the curling, then, in the aptly named Ice Cube. For the Winter Olympics agnostic, curling is the very essence of the games. A sport to watch out of curiosity for these two weeks and then under no circumstances allow your eye to wander towards even once in the next four years. Grimly slow, monotonously watchable and quite, quite odd.
The opening group matches held the floor at the Ice Cube all day yesterday, men in the morning and evening, women in the afternoon. We went to see the women, since it was they who made the sport’s first impression on the outside world when the British team win gold in Salt Lake 12 years ago.
When it turns out that the schoolteachery captain (actually, they say “skip” in curling) of that 2002 team is now the schoolmistressy head coach of the current side, it feels vaguely exciting.
Curling built up a cult following during those Salt Lake games, most especially among late-night wasters who didn’t want to peel themselves off the couch and go to bed.
When Rhona Martin sent down the death-or-glory last stone in the final to take gold, many of us could scarce forebear to weep. Well, we rubbed our eyes at any rate. It was about three in the morning after all and there may or may not have been drink taken.
Anyway, she’s Rhona Howie now and her team of screechy young Scots got their Olympics underway against Sweden yesterday. It only took a few ends to get the ebbs and flows and tos and fros of curling back on the eye. Lawn bowls on ice, basically.