Scheidegger sisters have paid their dues
I hooted, pumped my fist and as the aftermath of Team Scheidegger’s Jiffy Lube Alberta Scotties win played out on my iPad, I started to get a little teary. Then, I got a lot teary. I’ve known Casey and Jessie Scheidegger for awhile. As Junior curlers, juvenile curlers and young senior women curlers. I’ve known them as lucky winners, hard-luck losers and have seen them earn plenty of wins and losses, too. I’m not going to pretend friendship or act like I know them on any level other than competitive. I covered them in The Lethbridge Herald for what seems like a long time. They win a lot, even if this is their team’s first Scotties berth.
Casey Scheidegger skips the team, Carey-Anne McTaggart is third, Jessie Scheidegger second and Kristie Moore plays lead.
Casey and Jessie are from Diamond City, the gem of Highway 25, and their family is well known in these parts. Their dad, who I get to call Donny Diggs because this is a column, was a tireless volunteer and supporter of slopitch. Their parents, when I was at The Herald, never bragged about the girls, but pride shows itself in subtler ways when you love your kids.
But I’ve covered lots of athletes throughout their careers. I’ve seen plenty of young kids grow up and become wonderful people and champions.
What makes Casey and Jessie Scheidegger special is their persistence, and their sisterhood.
I am not given to emotional outbursts because of sports. I love sport but I also see it for what it is. Watching that provincial championship moment from Casey and Jessie, however, brought me low. They’ve played together pretty much non-stop (and did stories when Jessie was a juvenile curler and Casey was a tad too old for that.
They win on effort more than skill although they have plenty of skill.
On Casey’s last shot of the Alberta Scotties, Jessie was sweeping like someone who has been dreaming the exact same dream for the exact same time and could only see it happening with that one exact person: her sister.
After they won, after Shannon Kleibrink’s shot failed to edge them from shot rock, they celebrated like champions. Casey slid down the ice and, holding back the outburst of joy and catharsis, she congratulated her opponents and then it happened. She hugged her teammates. She hugged her sister, Jessie, and they cried. And even though I was watching it hours later, I cried, too.
There’s something a little more special about winning with your sister. It’s cool to think about the Sutter Brothers winning titles together, but there are plenty of chances for brothers to compete with each other in sports.
These two are sisters. They have lives, families, husbands that are more likely to pull them away from their sport than any man will ever face.
Casey and Jessie have stayed together. They’ve competed together. They’ve grown up together, even though I still think of them as the Scheidegger kids. They earned this. They’ve talked about their losses and their wins. They’ve found teammates they love. They’ve found ways to stay good enough to win.
They’re Diamond City’s most famous sisters, most famous people. They’re success is the success of every teammate, every friend, every volunteer and coach and friendly face at curling rinks around this area and beyond. You get to celebrate, too.
You get to watch and just enjoy and let go and trust that this was a title worth celebrating and these are two people you can pump your fist and yelp out loud about.
They’re fun and wonderful and they have struggled and persevered and I didn’t feel any shame at all yelling.
But I cried because it was beautiful to see their dreams come true, and I know this because I’ve heard them say that this, winning this bonspiel together, was always a hope and always a goal.
Congratulations, thank you and good luck, you two. It’s been fun every step of the way.