The Two Sides of The Best Curler in the World

Despite the historical dominance of Canada in curling at the Olympics — Canadian men in particular have led the way, winning a medal — including three gold — at every Games except 2018 since the sport was added in 1998, the country’s men’s team will not be favourites to stand atop the podium in Cortina next month. 

That designation belongs to the lads from the birthplace of the sport. Skip Bruce Mouat and his Scottish rink have been mowing down the competition in jaw-dropping fashion for more than two years. 

Team Mouat has won two of the last three men’s world curling championships, have racked up six Grand Slam of Curling titles over the past two seasons, and have been the No.1-ranked team in the world for one of the longest stretches of time — 64 weeks and counting — in the modern era of curling.

Mouat, third Grant Hardie, second Bobbie Lammie and lead Hammy McMillan Jr. are a band of Scottish curling brothers who have evolved and grown on and off the ice together to ascend to the highest level in the sport. 

For a culture known more for quietly enduring hardship and sporting a stiff upper lip, it took an attitude of exposing one's vulnerabilities to catapult the team to the top of the world rankings.

Mouat, the steely-eyed, stoic skip, is ruthless on the ice, coming up with brilliant shots when it matters most. During the games he’s quiet and rarely shows emotions. It’s not that he isn’t feeling it all, in fact it’s quite the opposite. Mouat burns inside while he’s playing, especially when he misses a shot or loses a game. 

“It's not external, like I'm not smashing things, it's more internal,” he said. “I just go in my shell a bit and tell myself that I'm a bit of an idiot. I put a lot of pressure on myself. 

“Obviously it's the skip of a team, a lot of the time it comes down to if I play well.”

Nothing about Mouat is flashy or dramatic. Off the ice, he’s often seen with a smile on his face, chatting it up with teammates, volunteers, fans and opponents. He carries himself in a way that’s relatable to many, shows the sport respect, and just so happens to be better at curling than anyone else on the planet right now. 

It’s not often the athlete or a team that is this dominant is universally loved and celebrated. 

Bruce Mouat is the exception. And perhaps more than the wins that’s what Mouat would want. If you spend any time with him at all you’ll quickly realize he draws his happiness from your happiness. 

And if you go to a world championship or Slam event in Canada, he’s as popular as any Canadian curler. It’s something Mouat had always wanted for his career and is now living it.  

“Canadian fans love the sport. It’s infectious. When you see them excited to watch Brad Jacobs or Brad Gushue or whoever it is, you're like, how do we become a favourite team?” Mouat said.  

“If anyone ever stops me, I'll try and actually have a conversation with them just because I want to hear where they're from or what they've done to travel here.”

Mouat has played in nearly every nook and cranny across the expansive country and is happy to share his knowledge of Canadian geography with anyone who will listen. 

Canada’s influence on Mouat is immense. While growing up in Edinburgh he would spend countless hours watching old Brier (the Canadian men’s championship) games on YouTube and even went so far as to model his slide after veteran Canadian skip Jeff Stoughton. 

“I watched highlight reels of Jeff Stoughton. There used to be a video on YouTube where it’d just be Jeff Stoughton's best 50 shots or something,” Mouat said. “I put my own unique spin on the Manitoba tuck. And then eventually got told that I wasn't allowed to do that anymore because my knee was gonna bust out. But I probably slid like that for like six years.”

As fate would have it, Mouat’s lead Hammy McMillan Jr.’s father has some history connected to Stoughton. 

Also named Hammy McMillan, he skipped the Scots to a world championship gold medal in 1999, defeating Stoughton in an extra end of the gold medal game in Saint John, New Brunswick. Mouat’s team has heard stories about what it’s like to take on Canada — and take down Canada.

“Hammy's dad had it drilled into us. The best thing you can do as a Scottish curler is go and win in Canada against the Canadians,” third Grant Hardie said. “You've grown up from the age of 10 hearing about Hammy's dad doing it. He tells you every time you speak to him. That is what we want to be doing as well.”

This month in Steinbach, Man., Mouat’s foursome was putting in final preparations at the Players’ Championship for what will be their second consecutive Olympics. No other curling team from Great Britain has made back-to-back appearances.

Before they ramped up this granite juggernaut for this consequential Olympic season, Mouat and his team made sure they got some much needed downtime during the offseason, albeit, a short-lived escape from the pebbled ice. 

Away from it all, at home in the Scottish countryside between Glasgow and Edinburgh, is right where Bruce Mouat wants to be. 

Sitting in the middle of his family and friends on his backyard patio, music and laughter is swirling around as the sun begins to set on an idyllic mid-May evening in Stirling, Scotland, Bruce Mouat can’t stop smiling. 

His partner of four years, Craig Kyle, is wearing a bucket hat and sunglasses and is perched at the barbeque, carefully preparing the evening’s meal for the guests, tongs in hand as smoke rises from the meat on the grill.

Kyle is a gregarious character who makes friends wherever he goes. From the small Scottish town of Hawick, he’s a little brash and direct, and can act as a bit of a shield for Bruce.

“Bruce feels a lot of pressure from people and doesn't tend to show it,” Kyle says as he flips a burger. “I'm a tough love kind of person. Like I'm pretty blunt at times and I'm quite straight to the point. 

“I do try to be a wee bit softer when trying to say stuff, because he's soft. He's a soft, gentle soul that doesn't want to hurt or upset anybody.” 

Kyle has been there for Mouat’s world championships wins, both in Canada, capturing a lot of headlines for his antics throughout the games. He comes from a rugby background so being boisterous in the crowd comes naturally to Kyle; he’s become a bit of a celebrity at the games.

“I'm probably standing in a kilt, being completely Scottish, a drink in my hand,” Kyle said. “It's kind of crazy to actually think that people are wanting me to sign the Scottish flag as if I'm literally part of the team. 

“I might be the biggest hanger-on ever, but I'm not actually part of the team, but people make you feel that way, which is nice.” 

The back of Kyle’s shirt is emblazoned Good Days Ahead, and if you ask Mouat, these are the good days. He’s living a life he could never have imagined for himself less than a decade ago.

His mom, Mary, is sitting in one of the lounge chairs on the patio taking in the scene, soaking up what her son, now 31, has created for his life. 

“He was a wee little boy with massive dreams, and he is living that dream now,” she said. “It gives me a lot of peace because I know that he is very comfortable within his own skin and he is able to express how he's feeling about everything.”

Just a month before this backyard gathering he won his second world championship title in Moose Jaw, Sask., and then followed it up with a silver medal at the world mixed doubles championship. 

Team Mouat will represent Great Britain at the upcoming Olympics next month in Cortina with the gold medal the singular goal — in both team and mixed doubles.

But none of that is on Mouat’s mind right now, not in the serenity and calm of being at home with the people he loves around him. This is where he is most happy. His curling schedule is demanding. From August until April, he’s on planes, trains and in automobiles traveling to compete at the next bonspiel. 

It’s a grueling schedule that grinds down even the most seasoned curlers as the game becomes that much more professional. Mouat was also named one of the six original captains in the newly formed pro curling circuit called Rock League, making the season a little bit longer. 

During the short offseason, made shorter with it being an Olympic year, he slows down and prioritizes walks with his mom, time with Kyle, trips and hikes with his longtime friends.  

“It's like you just want that kind of simple life. I guess growing up you don't think it's going to be that simple and then when you find it, it's actually just so much easier than you could ever imagine,” Mouat said. 

The ease in which Mouat now moves through life and on the ice could only be realized through some tumultuous and searching moments when he was a teen.

It was then Mouat was beginning to confront his sexuality, and what it would look like for him to forge a path in curling as an openly gay man.

As soon as he got comfortable with the idea of telling his inner circle, Mouat started to map out how, when and where he would do it. The thing about Mouat is that he’s a self-proclaimed overthinker of all things. 

And so when it came to one of the more impactful revelations of his life, he was going to do everything he could to ensure his coming-out story, what he would say in those moments of consequence, was airtight and carefully worded. 

“I remember watching maybe between 50 and 100 coming-out stories on YouTube because people used to film their reactions. That was the thing that was very much our era,” Mouat said. “It helped me a lot to figure out what I wanted to say as well.”

But for as meticulously planned as it was, none of it went the way he thought. 

Mouat thought starting with his parents and brother would be the best move. He had built up sharing this deeply personal part of him to be this big, scary thing and braced for what the reactions would be. 

“I just wanted to be able to tell them, but then it didn't happen the way I was going to do it,” he said. “I learned quickly that there was no drama. There was never any drama. Mom, bless her, she was like ‘let's be real. ‘She kind of knew and I hate that moms always know.”

He laughs at the memory. “I was never that good at hiding it anyway.”

Next came his friends. It took Mouat some liquid courage to get it out but he got there.

“I was able to say it, but the first time I did it I was hammered in York with my friends, drinking tequila shots and then I told them just they were like, alright, that's fine,” Mouat said. 

One of his longtime friends, Elspeth Leaney, has had a front row seat to the evolution of Mouat on and off the ice. They were part of an under-17 team that won the Scottish championship. 

Playing and winning together was sweet, but there was a time they played against one another during high school in Edinburgh. 

“We're playing Bruce and I don't know what happened, but all of a sudden I was beating him,” Elspeth said.  “And he actually stormed off the ice and went into the changing room. Yes, I like to add in that he cried, but I don't know if that was actually true or not.

“I can't remember if we actually won in the end, but he obviously missed a few shots and I somehow was winning.”

Elspeth is a storyteller. And Mouat chimes in while she recounts her triumphs. She regales the backyard company of the night she and Mouat were at a pub in Edinburgh and how the waitress “fancied” Mouat. 

Elspeth was going on about how they both must have liked each other. It was at that moment that Mouat told Elspeth he was gay. 

“I can appreciate that it's probably a really scary thing to do and I suppose you build things up in your head – will my family accept me? Will my friends accept me? I think it probably was quite relaxing for him to realize that we were cool with it all,” she said. 

At every turn throughout his coming-out journey, Mouat was being met with love and understanding. 

But he hadn’t told his teammates yet. 

Mouat admits he was extremely insecure about they would receive the news, whether they would accept him. They’d shown him nothing to suggest that. Moaut was projecting his fears onto them.

“That's what I was worried about. It was like they're not going to accept me and they will not want to play with me just because I'm gay, right?” Mouat said.  

“It was the complete opposite of that though. As soon as I was able to be myself or say what I wanted to say, everything changed. They couldn't care less and told me they had my back.”

When he looks back on that time, there is a hint of sadness for his younger self and what he endured. 

“No one ever said to me that being gay in sport wasn't allowed. I don't know if it was a societal thing or if it was my own kind of worries,” he said. “There was never one person nor has there ever been that said to me that you don't belong here. It was just my own fears.

“There was just a lot of learning to do there. I wanted to just be able to be myself, but then was hiding myself away because I felt that that's what was needed to be able to be a successful team.

There’s a direct line between Mouat’s coming out and his meteoric rise in curling and he shrugs off any notion that the two aren’t inextricably connected. 

In fact, not only has he grown into being comfortable with his gayness, he’s been open and proud of it. That in turn has allowed others to draw inspiration from him. 

“I love his transparency. He is who he is on the ice and off the ice. And he just has such a big heart,” said his longtime friend, Sian Douglas. “I think it's definitely been a journey for him. But I think everyone's been so supportive that it's allowed him to kind of grow into the space and then become that person. 

“He's not someone who looks for fame or looks for anything like that, but if he can use it for something positive, that makes it all worthwhile.” 

With that burden off his shoulders, Mouat has thrived. Not long after this granite-shifting change in his life, he would join forces with the three teammates he’s been with since 2018.

Mouat, Hardie, Lammie and McMillan Jr. got together in the wake of the Pyeongchang Olympics. Since then, they’ve made history together. 

They represent the great hope for Great Britain. And all four of them have made it clear they have only one goal in mind at the Games in Cortina – they are there to win gold, something they came agonizingly close to four years ago in Beijing only to lose to Sweden in the title game.

“You know, there's a lot of ifs and buts but honestly it's probably one of the best games that we've played that we've never won,” Mouat said. “It was really gutting to not win it. We've got unfinished business at the Olympics.

“I've come to terms with losing, it's just I hate it so much.”

One of the lowest points for the team came at the conclusion of the 2024 men’s world curling championship. 

After a semifinal loss, Moaut struggled in the bronze-medal game and the team left without a medal. It left a bitter taste in the mouth of all four players going into the offseason.

“I felt very guilty,” Mouat said of falling back into his self-defeating internal dialogue. “I felt that I had not only let the guys down, but just the wider British curling program down. So I just put a lot of guilt on my back..

“It was probably from there that we realized that something needed to be said.”

For eight years they’d been battling together side-by-side on the ice, but in some ways they had become stagnant as a unit and it needed addressing.

Last summer they got vulnerable with each other, something they all say has allowed them to play freely and perhaps more than anything, rise up together when the pressure mounts on the ice. 

“We all learned a lot about each other that we probably didn't know even though we saw each other all the time,” Hardie said. “It just helped us be more relaxed and comfortable with each other.” 

They put mechanisms in place to better communicate with each other, especially after misses. Curling can be unforgiving but Team Mouat has achieved so much of its success by not missing two consecutive shots. 

It’s something McMillan Jr. says they’ve worked hard on. 

“You've got that 60 seconds between ends, and if we don't park it or nothing's said and to move on to the next end, that's when you can get that divide potentially,” Hammy said. “All it takes is a wee conversation: ‘My bad boys, I'll make the next one.’”

And they just keep on making shots.

It might all culminate in finally checking off that last thing on his list, being an Olympic champion.

That would make Mouat most happy, because the people around him would also be happy too.