04/05/2026
Wow so true a must read and share!
âThe Mirror at the Hackâ
He stands at the hack like a legend in stone, Calling each shot as if truth were his own.
âPerfect,â he says, with a confident grin, Before the rockâs even started to spin.
He sweeps with his voice, not a brush in his hand,
Commands from the house like a one-man band.
But when it curls wide or comes up too light,
Itâs never his fault, itâs the sweepersâ plight.
âToo soft!â or âToo hard!â heâs quick to declare,
While doubt never seems to find its way there. Each miss gets rewritten, each loss gets excused, With teammates rotated, replaced, and reused.
New jerseys, new lineups, the cycle repeats,
Searching for victory in musical seats. But wins stay elusive, they just wonât appear, When the problem heâs chasing is staring from near.
For somewhere between the house and the line, Lives a truth heâs avoided time after time: That greatness isnât claimed, itâs quietly shown,
And no skip wins a game by throwing alone.
Friendships have thinned like frost in the sun, Lost in the shadow of âme over weâ won. The laughter once shared has faded away,
Replaced by the echo of blame after play.
So maybe itâs time, before the next game, To look past the ice and let go of the blame. The mirror wonât lie, though itâs hard to face,
A team isnât built by winning a case.
Because no matter how loud or how far his voice, Curlingâs still built on a team, not a choice. And the truth, though simple, cuts straight and clear, Youâll never be great till you look in the mirror. đ„