A melting pot taking shape on St. Paul ice

Members of the St. Paul Curling Club are quick to point out that curling, at its heart, is a social sport. That also makes it a game that easily transcends borders and languages, as it did Sunday at the club on Selby Avenue.

On the opening day of the world senior curling championships, Dutch and Hungarian were being spoken in the viewing area behind the ice. A group of Scottish spectators wished the French team well. Upstairs in the bar and grill, the women's teams from Sweden and Russia -- who had just finished competing against each other -- gathered around a table and ordered a round of drinks.

This mini league of nations, where international relations are hashed out with stones and brooms and sealed over beverages, will meet daily through Saturday in the stately 99-year-old clubhouse on Cathedral Hill. Three world titles will be awarded, in mixed doubles, senior men's and senior women's competition. It's anyone's guess how many cross-cultural friendships will be made.

"In curling, you always shake hands before and after the game," said Ken Olson of Plymouth, a member of the U.S. men's team that opened the tournament with two victories. "Then you sit down over a pop or a beer or a drink and have some good conversation.

"We played Japan in our first game. One of my teammates knew some Japanese, and the guys on their team knew a little English. And afterward, we talked for an hour and a half. That's how curling is."

Playing host to the world -- in this case, 28 countries spread over four continents -- requires about 200 volunteers, enough kegs of beer to fill a trailer and the neighborhood spirit that surrounds the country's largest curling club. Officials of the St. Paul club, which has 1,200 members, had long wanted to bring a world championship tournament to the city.

The senior and mixed doubles events, both relatively new, were small enough to be held at the club rather than at an arena. Mike O'Neil, a past president of the club and chairman of the host committee, has overseen 15 months of preparation. The club held fundraisers to help cover the estimated cost of $30,000 to $40,000, and volunteers signed up for everything from driving team vans to staffing hospitality rooms. Neighborhood businesses and individuals pitched in to sponsor teams -- including O'Neil's parents, who invited Team Ireland to their home for dinner.

"The teams that are here want to win, but this is a social event, too," O'Neil said. "They're largely paying their own way, and they're bringing their spouses and families. We want to give them a great experience, and we want them to remember the hospitality we put out."

Sunday, the temporary seating behind the ice sheets bulged with spectators discussing strategy in Czech, Swedish, French and English with a Scottish brogue. Minnesotan, too. The U.S. senior women's team includes four members of the St. Paul club: Margie Smith and Rachel Orvik of Shoreview, Debbie Dexter of St. Paul and Sally Barry of Eagan. Olson and Tim Solin of Mahtomedi, part of the U.S. men's team skipped by Geoff Goodland, also are competing on home ice this week.

Upstairs in the bar and restaurant, one large-screen TV showed an NHL playoff game. But even the Canadians kept their attention on their country's other favorite game, watching through the glass wall and through the strategically placed window in the men's room. O'Neil said he doesn't expect the club to make money from the event, but he does anticipate the bar -- which already had gone through several kegs of beer -- will do a brisk business all week.

With that kind of camaraderie, it's no wonder the St. Paul club keeps growing. It has operated at capacity for years and added a satellite club last winter, when Ramsey County offered the use of Biff Adams Arena about a mile away in the Frogtown neighborhood. "The Biff" already has 250 members and ultimately could be spun off into a separate club.

O'Neil hopes these world championships will lead to other major curling events coming to the Twin Cities. Olson said they already have created smaller, more personal rewards, including the tiny bottles of gin his team received from the English team -- and the warmth they received from the Japanese, despite the language barrier.

"They asked us, 'What do you say at the beginning of every game?"' Olson said. "We told them we say, 'Good curling.' They worked on that, and we learned what they say. Those are the kinds of things we'll remember."

Rachel Blount • rblount@startribune.com