Will curling great Brad Gushue get the finale he deserves?

National Post, 28 February 2026

Winning this year's Brier would be a fairy-tale ending to a storybook career

Curling is having its quadrennial moment, the Winter Olympics introducing viewers to how much fun it is. The winter games are comprised mostly of odd pursuits that require astonishing physical skill — ski jumping, luge, biathlon — cross-country skiing with guns, why not? Only hockey, figure skating and curling are things ordinary people might encounter, and of those, curling is the most viewer-friendly.

At the Olympics, foreigners get to discover what Canadians know — curling is fascinating to watch. The game is easily understood, and there is enough time between shots for armchair strategists to imagine what shot might be played. As the rock approaches the house on a complicated takeout or a delicate draw, there is suspense, expectation and a moderate burst of adrenalin. The fevered sweeping is both absurd and marvellous, one of those curiosities that adds amusement to life.

Almost everyone has played shuffleboard in someone’s basement when the conversation upstairs got boring, or analogously bocce, or croquet, or cornhole at a picnic. Everyone understands curling, and most people think it is something they might be able to do, even if they don’t appreciate how difficult it is. Not impossibly difficult mind you, like landing a salchow or saving a 90-miles-an-hour slapshot. That’s why bonspiels are held across the land and good and decent folk curl all winter long.

The greatest bonspiel of them all began Friday in St. John’s, the Canadian men’s championship, the Brier. And one of the best of all time — curlers are too modest for vainglorious debates about the singular “greatest of all time” — is on hand for the grand finale of a career marked by unusual brilliance, accomplished by a good and decent man given a chance to make his province and his country proud.

Local boy Brad Gushue and his team won the Olympic gold medal in 2006. Things had reached a state of emergency by that point. Curling was part of the first winter Olympics in 1924, but then was dropped. It returned as a demonstration sport in 1988 — thank you Calgary! — and was added to the official roster in 1998. Canada did not win gold in 1998 (Switzerland did), nor in 2002 (Norway). Curling may have its roots in Scotland, like golf, but its deepest identity belongs in curling rinks in places like Swift Current and Sault Ste. Marie. And St. John’s.

In 2006, Gushue won the gold medal, restoring balance to the curling universe. Canada has won three of five gold medals since. The Gushue team returned home to Newfoundland in 2006 as conquering heroes. They named a highway after them. (The completion of its final leg was announced last year.) Only 25 at the time, and a world junior champion in 2001, it was expected that Gushue was just launching a stellar career. Which he was. But he could not win the Brier.

It’s only one nation’s championship, but the 10 days are curling’s highest quality and curling culture’s finest moment. It is quintessentially Canadian — welcome, Team Northern Ontario and Team Nunavut — and as wholesome as any professional/commercial sporting event can be. Fans wander over to the “Brier Patch” for beer and local bands and to chat with the competitors. There’s the skip from Team Yukon! The championship trophy is the Brier Tankard — not an ambiguous bowl or cup, but a tankard. For ale and such.

Gushue has won plenty since 2006, but it was not until 11 years after the Torino Olympics that he won the Brier, in 2017 at home in St. John’s. The eruption from all of Newfoundland as he drew to the eight foot with his final rock could have been measured with a seismograph.

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