Danny Casper stared out the window as he lay still in his bed. It’s where he’d been confined to the last several days. Occasionally, he mustered the strength to sit up and watch Seinfeld or curling footage on his laptop. Other times, he curled up in a fetal position, trying to cope with the excruciating pain.
He couldn’t walk. He couldn’t sleep. His hands and feet tingled as if he slept on them funny, but he didn’t, and the sensation stayed with him 24/7. He struggled, physically, to text his parents because his fingers refused to listen to his brain. Food was available when his roommates were around. More often than not, a trip to the kitchen just wasn’t in the cards.
If you've ever had a pinched nerve before, and I'm not saying this out of hyperbole, but I had that feeling everywhere,” Casper reflected. “And that was for a few weeks. The worst few weeks of my life.
It was March of 2024. A week earlier, the professional curler competed in a spiel (tournament) and began to notice that his neck and upper back were sore. Not to a prohibitive degree, but enough to divert his attention. He attributed the aches to sweeping, a technique of influencing the speed and direction of a curling stone by rapidly “sweeping” a broom. As a skip, the team’s captain and core strategist, Casper typically leaves sweeping duties to his teammates. On this day, he was playing mixed doubles, so it fell into his purview.
The Westchester, New York native brushed off the minor soreness, not thinking much of it. When he returned to his home in Richfield (a suburb of Minneapolis, Minnesota), it quickly became the only thing he could think about. Sharp pains stretched across every limb of his body. He struggled to perform the simplest of daily tasks, and he didn’t know why.
“You go to bed and you're laying there and there's nothing besides thinking about what's wrong with you. It was just scary. I didn't know what was going on.”
A skip in the making
Curling courses through Casper’s veins. His great aunt, Carla Casper, competed at the 1988 Winter Olympics in Calgary, Canada, while his great uncle, Tom Casper (Carla’s husband), coached the U.S. men’s curling team a decade later at the 1998 Nagano Games. Still, a young Danny wasn’t exactly surrounded by the sport growing up in the same way as his Wisconsin-based family members.
A native of Briarcliff Manor, NY, his dad, Jeff, signed him up to participate in a local curling league when he was 12 years old. He was a shy kid, but on the ice, he transformed into a different person. He became “loud,” “competitive,” and in his element, especially when he threw stones with an older teen named Andrew Stopera.
“I wanted to catch him,” Danny remembers. “He was a hell of a lot better than me. But yeah, that was how it all started and kind of skyrocketed.”
The duo developed a bond that evolved into what he describes as a “sibling rivalry.” Coincidentally, Stopera now is the second (a sweeper) for Team Dropkin, a rival U.S. curling squad.
Danny fell in love with the sport, and his friends poked fun at him for it. He didn’t care. He was able to travel around the world, meet new people and do something with success.
Casper sharpened his skills and thrived on the junior level, earning a bronze medal at the U18 National Championships in 2018, a U.S. Junior Curling Championship victory in 2021 and a silver medal in the World University Games in 2023. In that same year, the current iteration of Team Casper officially assembled.
“I was playing with my own men’s team,” said Ben Richardson, a founding member of the squad. “One of our teammates, Jon Harstad, decided to step away from curling for a bit, and so we were looking for a new player. We sat together as a team to think about the best options, and Danny was the obvious answer.”
Casper agreed to join, and the foursome immediately faced a conundrum. He, Ben and Chase Sinnett (a former “Casperer”) all were traditionally skips in a sport that designates one per team. They mixed and matched positions at various competitions, ultimately deciding that Danny was the right man for the job.
“He has such a great leadership presence on the ice and he's very confident,” Richardson remarked. “He’s just the perfect personality for a leadership position like that. Once we played a couple games with him, it was pretty clear he was the way to go.”
Wherever he is, Danny brings the energy. He’s a social butterfly, the life of the “sheet,” perpetually hyping up teammates and chirping at opposing players. In a gentleman’s sport where trash-talking is far from the norm, Casper pushes the envelope.
My barber is always like, ‘You’re such a kind guy,’ and I’m like, ‘You know, when I’m curling, I’m kind of an asshole.’
The U.S. curling community is tight. Many athletes across the national rinks (teams) play co-ed summer softball together, including Danny, which makes him feel comfortable taking (playful) jabs at them.
What happens if Danny’s opponents yap back?
“Go ahead. If they want to get in a trash talk competition with me, they’re not going to win it.”
He points to John Shuster, a long-time opponent and America’s most accomplished curler, who conceded that getting into a war of words with Danny is a bad idea. He feeds off it. It elevates his game.
At the end of the day, Casper, a sarcastic shit-giver by nature, wants everyone involved to have fun. That includes fans.
“One time, this little girl in the crowd had a bag of popcorn. I was like, all right, if I make this shot, can I have some?”
She agreed.
“Only,” he reiterated, “If I make it.” She nodded.
The next time down the ice, he claimed a handful of his salty spoils.
When life froze
Before his diagnosis, Casper never had heard of Guillain-Barré Syndrome (GBS). It’s a rare condition, according to the Mayo Clinic, in which “the body’s immune system attacks the nerves.” Furthermore, it can “cause weakness, numbness or paralysis.”
“At first they thought it was a Vitamin D deficiency,” he smirked. “And I'm like, you know, I'm no doctor, and no disrespect to the importance of Vitamin D, but this feels a little more extreme than that.”
It took Danny and medical experts about three months to match the symptoms to the syndrome. During that time, he felt like he was in a nightmare he couldn’t wake up from. He was trapped in a body that served his athletic endeavors so valiantly for 22 years, but now was inexplicably failing him. His hands and feet tingled incessantly.
A semi-comfortable sleep position he discovered was sitting upright on the living room couch with his feet planted on the floor (it reduced the tingling). That, of course, required Danny to get up from his bed and venture down the stairs. Sometimes the juice wasn’t worth the squeeze. His health got so bad he had to quit his day job.
For the first time in his life, out of self-preservation, Danny remained physically still. His mind raced frantically.
Would he be kicked off his curling team? Would he make it back to the ice to play the sport he loves? Could he ever walk comfortably again?
Dark thoughts swarmed and Danny felt isolated, wading through an agonizing, unshared experience—but he never was alone. He lived with three roommates, all curlers, who made him food, bought his groceries and did his laundry. Casper’s parents still lived in New York, but they took turns flying out to see him, his mom one week, his dad the next. His friends also visited to check in and keep him company.
“You hear things like that when someone is in the hospital,” Danny joked.
Mild relief came in June when the United States Olympic and Paralympic Committee (USOPC) flew Casper to Florida. Doctors ran tests, including an EMG (electromyography), a procedure that assesses the health of muscles and the nerve cells that control them. Shock waves were sent up and down his body for 45 minutes to see how his nerves would react. It was about as pleasant as it sounds.
“Okay, that was the worst pain of my life,” he admitted.
On the bright side, Casper finally got his diagnosis.
There currently is no cure for GBS, and while symptoms may last for several years, most people are expected to make a full recovery. The exact cause of getting it in the first place is unknown, but it often is triggered by an infection, such as COVID-19 or the flu.
“I don’t care how I got it,” Danny stated. “I’m not going to waste my time with that.”
He began his treatment immediately, which included taking medications and going to physical therapy. He felt a little better some days, and pretty crappy on others. With the 2024-25 curling season about to begin, he so desperately wanted to be ready. In the midst of discomfort and weakness, he traveled to Scotland for the team’s first event. It didn’t go well.
“I was like, 'Yeah, this isn’t going to work,'” he said. “So after that, I didn’t play for two months maybe.”
Casper wound up competing in about 15 of the possible 60 games, which required his rink to find replacements, sometimes on a morning’s notice. They turned to veteran curlers, retired curlers. It wasn’t easy playing with a transient “free agent” pickup, let alone a person they were meeting for the first time (which happened).
“It almost became a joke on tour,” Danny smiled. “All the other teams in a light-hearted way were like, ‘I wonder who's on Team Casper next week?’ Over time, we'd start to be like, ‘We're not gonna tell you. We're gonna keep it a surprise.’”
Given how much time Danny missed, it would have made sense to find a new permanent skip to maintain a level of continuity and keep pace in the overall World Curling rankings. Richardson, Danny’s current roommate and teammate, scoffed at the idea. It never was a consideration. The team patiently waited to welcome their captain back, and the rest of the curling community eagerly wanted updates.
“Anytime I hung out with curlers when Danny wasn't there,” Richardson began, “Almost every time the conversation was like, ‘How's Danny doing? I hope he’s doing okay.’ Everyone was trying to help him in some way. Everyone loves Danny.”
Delaney Strouse, a member of Team Delaney on the women’s side, who attended the University of Minnesota at the same time as Danny and traveled around the world with him, added: "Danny is the funniest person I’ve ever met in my life. He could talk to a wall and make it love him. Everyone is obsessed with this guy because he's just so fun to be around."
To be the man, you’ve got to beat the man
When Danny joined on a video call for the first of our three conversations, he was holed up in a small room off a hotel lobby. He’s been on the road for the past two weeks, serving as an alternate for Team Shuster, then heading to the Team USA Media Summit in New York City and finally making a stop in Winnipeg to compete in a spiel.
As the discussion neared the hour mark, I noticed he was craning his neck frequently, and wondered aloud if was experiencing symptoms.
“Yeah, yeah, my neck hurts a lot today,” the 24-year-old revealed. “My upper back is super sore. Unfortunately, you’re catching me at a bad health moment. I’m sure all the travel doesn’t help.”
Telling him the chat could end right then, he dismissed the suggestion. When asked if he thinks he’ll be good to go for the upcoming U.S. Olympic Team Trials, he gave a side eye.
“It’s the Trials. What, I’m not gonna play?”
Casper technically no longer has GBS, but his aches persist. He’s at about 65% physically, which is surprising to hear. His humor and his verve point to a perfectly healthy person.
“I love laughing. I've always been that way,” he said. “I've always been kind of a clown and I like putting smiles on people's faces. It helps a lot.”
Danny is willing to speak openly about his condition, and he appreciates the people who care to inquire. However, he has explicitly told close friends and family to stop asking because the answer is always the same. When he faces the questions, he’ll often summon his supreme sarcastic powers to deflect.
“I don't want to mask myself too much, but at the same time, I'm like, what else do you want me to do? You want me to show up and tell everyone how much it sucks, that I feel terrible?”
Danny seldom mentions his pain or requests any kind of help, Richardson confirmed. The only real signs of discomfort are when he sits on a chair during a game or if his shoes are untied. One time, a mutual friend pointed the latter out to Danny, to which he responded that he couldn’t do anything about it. His hands were too weak to tie a tight knot.
Although he’s far from 100% healthy, Danny is back with his team full time. He hasn’t missed a game yet this season (which started in August) for purposes related to GBS. On top of that, Team Casper is performing better than they ever have. They’re the highest-ranked U.S. curling team in the world (8th). The guys are firing on all cylinders and the timing couldn’t be better with the Olympic Trials around the corner.
“We’re the best team in the U.S.” Danny confidently declared. “For the last year and a half or two, we've kind of felt that, and we think that we have the best foundation in terms of team dynamics and communication and mental fortitude. We're just super confident that will get us through a lot.”
Adversity can break teams. Team Casper grew stronger from it. They’re hungry and determined to prove why they should be the squad to represent the United States at the Winter Olympics. Not Team Shuster who has the gold-medal pedigree, not Team Dropkin who for years has been deemed Shuster’s heir apparent. Not Team Hebert, the scrappy up-and-comers who Team Casper used to be.
“The goal is to win everything,” Casper continued. “Be at the top, win the Olympics, be the number one team in the world. I don't understand why the goal is ever anything less than being the best.”
An exercise in self-identification
More than 100 Olympic and Paralympic hopefuls congregated in New York City late October for the aforementioned summit event. The athletes ranged from decorated, medal-winning veterans of the Games to those trying to break through. It was a chance to meet, share their athletic journeys and attend speaker sessions. Identity was a core theme throughout, and it resonated with Danny.
He’s been a curler for half of his life and his dream is to compete on the world’s biggest stage. What happens if he doesn’t win the Olympic Trials? Falls short at the subsequent Olympic Qualification Event? Never is able to call himself an Olympian?
What if he makes it as far as he possibly can in Milan Cortina without bringing home a medal? What if he wins gold?
You hear stories about post-Olympic blues. The comedown after sacrificing any semblance of a “normal” life to train, eat, sleep and repeat, all to reach a singular moment.
What if a disorder forces Danny to give up curling before he achieves his goals? What then?
“I don't know what I would do,” Casper conceded. “People ask what I like to do outside of curling? And I'm like, ‘outside of curling, what are you talking about?’”
“At the same time, I think about my health. If I feel like this for another two years, I don't know if I can curl much longer. I'm trying to wear it for now, and I'm definitely a lot better, but I can't…” he paused. “I cannot do this long term.”
As much as Guillain-Barré sucks, and I would rather not have had any of that happen, it’s a good way to see who really cares about you. Fortunately for me, a lot of people do.
Not many 24-year-olds have to think seriously about retirement. Then again, not many 24-year-olds have to deal with a debilitating disorder.
Regardless, Danny will continue to do what Danny does best, which is enjoy life and the people he meets along the way while, of course, sprinkling in a healthy dose of sarcasm.
“I don't know how much value I bring to this world, but I do know that if I can make one person smile or one person's life a little bit better because I was in it, that's all I could ever ask for.”