Roller Derby

You never know what you will see when you go to the movies. Our last movie, “Winter’s Bone”, was one of those times when the unexpected happened. We were at the Tacoma Grand Cinema, an independent film theatre, when just before the featured film we were treated to a guest appearance of the Wave of Mutilation roller derby team. Five female roller derby skaters came charging down the center aisle. They were a rolling advertisement for Roller Derby All-Star Bout to be held at Pierce College on July 24th; this coming Saturday.

Roller Derby; now there was something I had not seen before, except on television those many years ago, and this sounds like something I would like to attend. You know, broaden my entertainment horizons. Well, I know that Sharon won’t attend; all that blood and gore you know; perhaps Mike and Sabine? I gave them a call and they were interested but they had something else going on that night and were not sure they could make it. That left only one other person; me. So only me it was to be.

The program started at 6 pm. At 5:45 I was still busily working out in the yard. I stopped my weeding project, ran into the house and hosed myself off, doused myself with Johnson’s baby powder and headed out for the rink

I had no idea where the Pierce College was so I entered the address into my Garmin GPS system and was on my way. “Turn right in 400 feet”, “Bear left at next intersection”, “Proceed 2.4 miles and turn left”. On and on she went, for twenty miles. I hope she knows where she’s going because none of this looked familiar to me. But right on; after half-an-hour it was “Turn left at intersection and arrive at destination”.

I had arrived 20 minutes late and the men’s bout had already begun. I paid my $15 entrance fee and proceeded into a small gymnasium. A flat track had been set up on the gym floor with bleacher seating on both sides. As I entered into the gym there was a team of girls in their black uniforms cheering a team on and waiting for their turn to skate. The men were dueling it out right now, and the women would have their turn during the second half. The gym held two or three hundred people and the place was fairly full. I found myself a seat right behind the girls in the black outfits. They were the home team and called themselves The Wave of Mutilation.

As I sat down I glanced over to my left at one of the girl team members named Twiggie Smalls; nose ring, tattoos, black short-shorts, with black nylon mesh stockings. The girl sitting next to her looked over at me and smiled. I smiled back, but I couldn’t keep from gawking at her black eye. She had a shiner the size of an apple. As I looked around at the other team members, it looked as if tattoos, bruises and black eyes, with nose and lip rings, were all a part of the uniform. At least they all had all of their teeth.

I settled in and tried to make some sort of sense of the game. My first impressions were of a bunch of uncoordinated, gangling guys trying to make one complete lap around the track without falling down. They would clump up into a disorganized pack, hang on to each other for support and then try to make their way around the track, all the while bumping into each other and either falling down or jumping over someone else who had already fallen down. The announcer was calling out the moves and players, but it was so loud and distorted that I couldn’t make out much of what he was saying.

I turned to my program to see if it could help me to understand the game. I was in luck; right under the heading Derby Rules was everything I would need to know about roller derby racing. It was fairly simple really; each team consisted of two pivots, or girls who set the pace of the “pack”; three blockers who help their teams “jammer” in making it through the pack, or to block the opposing team’s “jammer” from making it through the pack. The “jammer” was the point scorer of the team. Each time they passed an opposing team member, they received one point.

The game was going good until all of the sudden the action came to a screeching halt. It seems as though Little Timmy had thrown a wheel and everyone had to stop to help pick up all the spare parts. The men’s teams consisted of the yellow jerseys, or Team Hollywood, contending against the blue jerseys, or Team Radillac.

Once the game started up again, yellow jammer Radillac, came flying around the rink heading right towards the back of the pack. The blue blockers were getting themselves into position while the yellow blockers were trying to open up a route for Radillac. Then in one move so fast I could barely see it, Raidllac pushed himself away from one blocker and actually leapt over the other. What a move! He was through the pack in an instant for an easy five points.

It wasn’t long before I could follow some of the strategies and techniques of the game. Each time a jammer would fly through the ranks, accumulating points as he went, I was jumping up and cheering right along with the rest of the crowd. This is a game of intense action and subtle strategies, such as giving a body block to an opposing blocker and sending him skidding down the track. It’s not unusual for a pivot, a blocker, or for that matter a even jammer to go sprawling across the track and bounce off the foam retaining wall, only to leap to his feet and jump right back into the melee. One such occasion, blocker G. No-Evil, jammer Maximus Overdrive, the referee Grim Streeper, went down in a tangle of knees, elbows and other body parts.

One well placed body block sends blue jammer, Hollywood, flying over the sixteen inch high foam barrier wall and coursing out of control down the hall. Once his composure is regained, he turns around, leaps over the heads of wild eyed spectators and the sixteen inch foam retaining wall, and is back in the rink overtaking the pack and scoring a quick five points.

In retaliation, with a heroic assist by yellow blocker Radilac, yellow jammer L-Nightlong squeaks past the pack for an easy five points.

In a final burst of glory blue jammer Sin Deisel, assisted by blocker Dr. Coldfinger, made a brilliant five point gain trying to pull ahead of the yellow team Radillac, but in the final moment the whistle blew and the game was over with a score of 134 – yellow to 127 – blue.

After the game I noticed one of the players named Security walking off the rink and congratulated him on a game well played. He looked at me, pointed to his security badge and stun gun and just walked away. How was I to know?

Half time gave the audience a chance to mingle with the players. Me, I opted to go to the concession stand and get a soft drink, a bag of popcorn and some cheese nachos. I think if I had waited longer I may have gone for a tattoo also.

The second half was for the ladies. Wearing the black jerseys was home team The Wave of Mutilation, with team captains Snickerbrutal and Rocky Hardplace . The visiting team from Bellingham, wearing green jerseys, was The Saints of Slaughter, with team captain Asonya Face and team coach Phil the Pain.

This looked like a match that would be worth watching. The girls were of smaller stature and seemed to be more in control of the group and of their bodies. After a couple of introductory laps, the two teams grouped together for the starting lap. The two jammers, black Dakota D. Stroya, and green Asonya Face were about ten feet behind the pack at the starting gun. As the pack took off around the track, Dakota D. Stroya and Asonya Face started off in hot pursuit. Unfortunately it wasn’t even a quarter lap before they both tripped over each other and went sprawling off into the barrier. Up they sprang and were back on track. Weaving through the pack, pushing and shoving, the girls were well on their way to some serious point making. All of the sudden, black blocker T’erin Traxx fell on her face and was down for the count. The game was stopped as she just lay there. I could detect an occasional moan with just a slight hint of whimpering. She laid there for two minutes as the coaches whispered words of encouragement. Finally she was up on one knee, then she struggled up to her skates and they rolled her off of the track. I watched her for a while as they checked her over for broken bones, concussion, or bruised ego. As she was sitting on the sidelines the announcer blared over the sound system “Any crash you can roll away from is a good crash”.

While this certainly is a contact sport, there are rules. The program lists the Derby Rules as: “It’s true: blockers and jammers are supposed to hit each other. But because most people like their teeth and bones intact, there are some rules to how it can be done. A “legal” block is done when a blocker hits with her shoulders and hips. So…no hands, no fists, no elbows, no feet, or other such foolery.”

The game continues and it wasn’t long before T’erin Trax was right back in the thick of it. Both teams are now racing around the track jockeying for position when for no apparent reason black blocker 16 Tons manages to fall in a heap all by herself. She jumps up and gets back on to her skates, catches up with the pack, and with just one well placed hip block sends two of the Saints of Slaughter and one referee sliding off track into the foam barrier.

There is a nice 8’ X 10’ scoreboard mounted at one end of the gymnasium. But just in case the crowd doesn’t want their eyes to leave the action of the pack, there is a Score Helper, a scantily clad girl who skates around the rink holding up a small 2’ X 3’ scorecard with the current score lightly sketched in pencil.

It was on one of these score keeper laps with Rusty O’Tulle displaying the score, when black jammer Snickerbrutal was trying to make her way through the pack and came upon an impenetrable wall formed by blockers Slamburger Patty and Betty Drillder. This distraction gave green jammer Leannderthal an open highway as she rolled through the pack to score an easy five points.

Well, as much fun as I was having, I think that last helping of cheese nachos I had was getting the best of me, not to mention the stifling heat of the gymnasium and the blaring noise from the PA system. So I reluctantly picked up my remaining empty containers of food and headed out of the gymnasium to the car park.

The air was cool, there was a wonderful silence with just a hint of the crowds roar, and coming up in the west was a big full yellow moon. For just $15 it was good entertainment. Would I go again? I think that I would, but not anytime soon. It will take me at least a week for my stomach to settle down and for my ears to get back to a state where they can hear again.