After my team's first game of the playoffs, if curling had a penalty box, I expect I'd be sitting in it tonight.
To say things did not go well in the first six ends would be putting it very mildly. To say I responded to adversity with humour and grace would be an outright lie.
Curling places a lot of expectations on its players when it comes to etiquette. You're supposed to maintain a calm demeanour regardless of whether a shot comes out well. No 'touchdown dances' allowed. I didn't throw my broom or a tantrum, but down 6-2 in the sixth end, there was a distinct lack of smiles and cheer on my side of the ice. Inside, I was boiling, my mind churning, filled with very nasty thoughts about my play thus far, (terrible) the play of my teammates (less than stellar) and the play of our opponents (awesome, dammit!).
After the game, one of the opposing players suggested it wasn't much fun playing such "Gloomy Gusses" and one of my own players pulled out the phrase, 'poor losers'.
The thing is, we didn't lose. Thanks to some lucky breaks and good shots from my teammates, we managed the win. But it didn't feel much like a win when I spent more than three quarters of the game with a 'thin in the lip' sour puss. I'm not proud of that one at all. As my vice pointed out toward the end of the sixth, it's not The Brier!
Onward and upward next week.