Beneath its placid façade, curling is a sport about precision and prognostication
BEIJING — The smooth, glistening ice on which curlers play — it is called a "sheet" — looks pristine, perfectly flat, to casual observers. Chris Plys sees something different as he crouches, squinting.
The U.S. Olympic team member knows slight deviations alter the surface. Devilish spots where his next shot might speed up or slow down. Places where the stone might curve left or fade right a little too much.
"It's kind of like a golfer reading a green," Plys says. "Every sheet is going to have its own little intricacies."
Navigating those variations is actually tougher than reading a green because in curling they are invisible, discovered by trial and error during practice, committed to notebooks and memory.
As U.S. coach Sean Beighton puts it: "Curling is a little weird, right?"
Perhaps more than a little.
Every four years, when the Winter Games come around, this sport becomes a cult favorite among
