Curling. In terms of national importance, it falls somewhere between handball and the world record holder for eating pancakes. If you're not familiar with the object of the sport, as almost no one outside of the participants and their embarrassed relations would be, it consists of two teams of four men (or women, who gives a shit, it's curling),one of whom pushes a big granite stone towards a big target, called the house. And there's no name for the granite stone, they're just big rocks. Even curlers don't give a shit what the fuck you call it, they know you're just killing time until the luge. Anyway, you can knock out other players' stones and hope you score more points. And here's a little trivia for you: it's known in curling circles, no doubt the shadiest group of badasses this side of a knitted apron, as "chess on ice".
I ask you this: has anything, ANYTHING, ever been made better when it's put "on ice"? The answer is a big veiny 'no'. There's Disney: on Ice, High School Musical: on Ice, andCabaret: .on Ice. There's hockey, but everyone knows that the only thing putting asses in those seats is the probability of a fight breaking out and someone getting a skate blade to the taint. The only thing other than that that could actually be enjoyable on ice are midgets and amputees. And if you can get them BOTH on the ice, you throw in some fire dancers and a Ted Nugent half-timeshow and you, my friend, have a Pay-Per-View extravaganza. There could even becorporate sponsorship for the teams. Imagine the Reese's Pieces vs. the Hershey Kissers (think height).
But back to hockey for a second, here's something that will illustrate my point: in the 1980 Olympic games, the United States hockey team defeated the unbeaten team representing the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. It's regarded as the one of the most emotional victories in sporting history. Now, imagine if it had been a rag-tag group of American collegiate curlers against the seasoned, unbeaten Russians. I hesitate to even keep typing about it, because you have probably already shit your pants in boredom.
And if you're wondering where a curling team would fit on a playground, they would be the ones getting beaten up by the four-square players, and then getting bitch-slapped by the foreign kid who just stands by the tetherball pole and makes everyone else feel uncomfortable with his lustrous moustache.
If there's something to be said for curling, it's simply this: whether one competitor weighs 500 lbs. or 125, it gives no advantage. That is to say, it's not a fucking sport, because any event in which a one-eyed stroke victim can have the same skill as a twenty-year-old athlete, something is wrong. But, at least everybody gets to compete in windbreakers, because God knows the unattended wind resistance of sliding ten feet could tear the skull off of your vertebrate.
Even the Olympics haven't decided if they want it or not; it's been cut four separate times in the history of the games. This means they doubt the mystical allure of curling more than ice dancing, which has NEVER been cut since its inception.
The worst part about this is that they have to know they're killing time until ice-fishing gets the go-ahead. Can you imagine these people, maybe forty or fifty years from now, sitting around a big fire, and one of the curlers' grandkids hops up on his grandfather's lap to ask him about when he was in the Olympics. A tear will roll down the old man's world-weary cheek, and he'll say "Son, for one shining day, between the end of cross-country skiing and the next network commercial break, we were as GODS."
Now open your eyes, because that will never happen, because no one fucks a curling gold-medalist except for another curler. Much like lepers and AIDS victims. And that's why no one will ever give a shit about curling.