Navigating curling without beer
The sport synonymous with heavy drinking doesn't need to have that distinction.
First up, the cancellations. Chatham, Ontario’s club won’t be curling this season. The Paf Masters, a women’s event in Finland, also cancelled. Other clubs and events will no doubt follow suit, although I’m seeing pictures of ice going in all over the place, and some places have already begun leagues, such as Leduc, Alberta — with doubles games, alternating sheets, and sporadic mask-wearing:
Onto the main topic.
This week I learned that the official US dietary recommendations for “moderate drinking” define the quantities differently for men and women. They state it’s one drink for women and two for men. The Wall Street Journal reported this week that a federal committee is recommending to change that guideline to one drink for everybody. Some of the reactions were about what you’d expect: hey, it’s a pandemic, life’s bad enough, this is getting me through this, haha.
I’ve never really been a drinker. People say that but I can enumerate all my alcohol intake: a half a can of beer at a freshman year party, and a glass of champagne at my cousin’s wedding 19 years ago. (Would not recommend either, zero stars.) So many times I’ve been asked why I don’t drink, and that I should try it. My go-to responses were numerous. Usually I would just say Pepsi was tastier and cheaper. Sometimes I would say I don’t like the feeling, which was more of a fear, since I’ve never been truly inebriated, so maybe I’m missing out on something? But I never liked the idea of not being in control of my faculties, nor being in a position where I couldn’t get in my car and leave.
In 2007, Craig Ferguson gave a stirring monologue on his late night show, flipping the traditional script of dumping on celebrities for cheap laughs. The crowd kept waiting for the punch line and was visibly not in the mood for a lecture (evidenced by the laughs at the mere mention of Britney Spears, hoping this was going to go somewhere). This was my Nanette. It’s one of the most influential TV moments in my lifetime, helping me form my own viewpoint of alcohol in the world. Some people can drink and some people can’t, and he’s one who can’t, and I am probably one who can’t either.
How do I know this? Alcoholism runs in my family. Specifically my father, who was a giant in my life and could fix anything he put his mind and hands to, but due to his insistence on self-medicating nightly, it’s difficult to picture him other than a shriveled-up man, yellow from cirrhosis, leaving this world in one of the worst ways possible. While there was little doubt leading up to that moment, it was the final cathartic confirmation that I, personally, made the correct choice.
And it’s been pretty easy to tread society alcohol-free, especially after college. Even at the curling club, a timeless bastion for spirits and good times had by all. When you get right down to it, a curling club is just a bar with a big open cold room that makes you feel like a failure at yet one more thing in life. The alcohol is supposed to “help.” Well it’s never helped for me, because I’ve never tried. It’s the teammates and opponents that pick you up after the game, however, because they’re good company and also missed a bunch of shots. They’re (or should I say you’re) the reason I keep coming back. You did it. Not the beer.
Now having said that, I might lose half my subscribers for this next section but I really don’t care, as long as it helps someone. And I’ll start out by saying that if this sounds like I’m being judgmental, I’m really trying not to be. That’s what’s bit me in the ass in the past, because that’s how it’s come off. This does not come from a position of scorn, but love and concern.
For years I’ve been conditioned by the world that alcohol is fine and good for other people, and everybody’s adults, they know when to cut themselves off, and if they can’t, that’s what the bartenders and friends who can call cabs are for. Great! There’s a system in place. But a lot of times it doesn’t, and 10,000 deaths a year in the United States are caused by drunk driving alone. Accounting for all deaths, alcohol-related deaths far surpass that of opioids. The alcohol-related ones don’t make headlines (unless they’re car accidents) because they are slower and uglier. Factor in the toll it does to the body and the brain (which, I guess, is also part of the body) and that one-drink maximum sounds like pretty good health advice. If we’re going to be mindful of the pandemic public health recommendations, we don’t get to go à la carte when it comes to other things. I want my curling comrades to live long healthy lives, because — and I don’t know if you noticed this — those 70- and 80-year-olds are the prime curling years, the only time you can take the ice against a bunch of strapping youths and just make them cry with soft-weight draws and taps. Please put yourself in a position to do that. Limit your alcohol to one drink a night. And if you can’t function without more than that, then there are people all around you — support groups, treatment clinics, and counseling — who can help.
And if you know someone who isn’t a curler, and has trouble with alcohol, do the same thing, then get them on the ice and tell them they can become a local sports superstar well past the age of retirement, and even if they’re not, they’ll get a wealth of friends to keep their spirits up any night they choose.