Just call me Sid-Knee Vicious

March 2, 2010
8:00 pm

I’ve had many goals in my life. Some I’ve reached while others I quit half way through like marathon runner who didn’t stretch. I know that sounded odd, but just stay with me.
Two weeks ago a co-worker invited me to her five year anniversary of turning twenty five. I was hesitant because I knew the party would involve other co-workers and their children I wasn’t sure yet if I had been accepted as a friend and those small things have a way of squealing and being well, children. The temptation of other co-workers bested me, and I found myself following a caravan of cars to the local skating rink.
Now in earlier years of my life, I though myself quite the skater. I was in no way graceful of course. My parents’ may have given me my beauty but poise and grace disappeared somewhere else in another gene pool. I dreamed of being in the X-games. I knew of course that this would never happen. Jumping curbs and flying down a neighborhood hill hardly qualifies as talent. I still loved it though.
At some point in high school, roller derby returned to TV. I’m sure it was on TNT “late nite” after wresting (or Law and Order) and before the “set it and forget it!” rotisserie.
“Oh my god, I use to watch this all the time,” my mom’s excitement comes from the kitchen.
I turn and smile, “What is this?” I was fascinated. They even made quads look better than my inlines.
“It’s stupid,” Dad’s mocking voice chimes in. “It’s like wrestling on wheels. Most of it’s staged. Change the channel.”
If I was smarter at the time, I would have turned to Beavis and Butthead and judged his reaction on which was better. Instead, I stored it away with other shows I would watch at friends’ houses or when the parents weren’t home.
My friends fell out of skating, and I too boxed up the wheels for Goodwill. Off to college I went, and slowly each year, I didn’t even watch the X-Games.

So when I found myself in front of the skating rink two weeks ago, it ALL came flooding back. Would it be like riding a bike? Should I have worn more socks? Am I even fit enough to get on these things again?
Four of us walked in at once.
“You gonna skate?” Betty – swear to god her name was actually Betty – the elderly woman behind the counter asked with a massive roll of tickets.
We stared at each other, at the tickets, at Betty, at each other.
“No,” we all cowardly mumbled.
The anticipation grew as we sat there watching others shuffle around uneasily.
“I’ll go if you go.”
“Well if you go I’ll follow.”
“Okay … maybe after some pizza.”
...
“Shit, let’s just do it. Where’s Betty?”

After helping my friends strap themselves into the inlines, I laced up my own skates. I was one of the brave ones to get the old school quads. There is definitely something nostalgic and yet scary about those tan, well worn, renter skates. They all seem to have the same small. I cautiously stood, remembering I had not been on a pair since I was eight or so. I think Salt N’ Pepper still played on the radio.
I offer one note to those wanting to return to wheels. Skating on that industrial carpet is nothing like skating on the waxed floor. In fact, it’s harder.
My co-workers shuffled along to the rink and started a slow circle. I figured if I was going to fall, might as well fall big. I went out with a fake confidence and took long strides, gliding unintentionally past the co-workers. You know who fell that night? NOT ME.
I think I had more fun weaving in and out of people than actually staying with them to talk. I was no speed demon, mind you. A six year old with a wide stance and danger in his eyes beat me there. Not to mention, there were three or four people with their own skates. I learned my lesson in pool halls; you don’t mess with the ones that have their own equipment.
Coincidently, when I returned home Andy had a particular movie waiting on me. I’m a bit of an Ellen Page and Brew Barrymore fan. The Whip It DVD menu stared at me when I walked into the living room.
“Hell yeah,” I exclaimed kissing Andy hello.
“Any bruises?” he questioned.
“Not a one.’
“We’ll see if you’re lying tomorrow.”

Now if you haven’t figured out from the title of the blog, I fell in love with roller derby again. Yes, I know, it’s just a movie. All I could think though was “I could SO do that.” And it wasn’t because I connected with any of the characters. In fact, it’s not really that type of movie. It was cute, funny, enjoyable, but not awe-inspiring.

“I’m going to be a Roller Derby Star,” I announced the next day at work.
“I could see that.”
“Did you see the movie?”
“You’d be good at it.”
“Yeah you would.”
“I wanna join too.”
What was awkward was I kept hearing “You’d be so good at it!” I wasn’t sure if this was a compliment or not. It’s similar to saying “You’d be awesome at beating the shit out of someone on skates.” Because let’s face it, that’s what most people think it is. Well, it’s not. I now know this.
After enough compliments, I started taking it seriously. I went to the fabulous internet and searched for a league. Wouldn’t you know it? There are four, each no more than two hours away!
This last Sunday, Andy and I packed into the car and headed west to New Haven, Indiana to see the Fort Wayne Derby Girls and Derby Brats. They are the first all women flat track derby team in Indiana. In fact, their creator just recently received an award for outstanding women in business for the county. Go figure. And here they were doing a charity bout in a tiny skating rink for $5 a ticket. Why shouldn’t we go? I really just wanted to see if after watching a match in person, would I still want to join?
Even more so! That would be my answer.
On the way there, I pondered like a silly girl. “Do you think we’re about to enter some weird underground? Will we stick out like sore thumbs?”
Andy shrugged, “Maybe. But I think we can handle it.”
The building was barely marked, but a small marquee said it all. “Derby Girl Bout tonight,” it read as we passed. The lot next to the grey dingy building mimicked the feel. It was more of a mud lot than a parking lot. All the snow had melted for a mushy mess.
We pulled a u-turn. (Which I cheered for because I hate the Ohio banned them) We circled the lot a few times and judged the crowd entering. It was so strange. There were a few of what I assumed would be the classic fans, punkster teens, biker dad, and people who could pass as Pat or Chris. And then, to my confusion, I saw soccer moms with kids in tow.
“I think we’re good,” Andy said pointing to the kids.
“Does that mean there won’t be beer?” Seriously, we thought drinking and derby should go together.
Inside we finally figured out what a “Derby Brat” was. I thought they were just Derby girls in training. I was wrong. Rainbow Brat skated past me in her jersey, pink two-two, and multi colored socks. I think she was a little taller than my waist. Other pink and purple jerseys came out of the wood work. About four looked like they were in high school, but then again you never know. At first, I hoped the petite Rainbow Brat wasn’t going up against the mammoth child, KillHer Bee. Then they hit the rink. She weaved in and out of the girls and snuck behind KillHer Bee throwing hard pointy elbows. Don’t let the princess pink wheels confuse you. She was bad ass, and serious. I think the younger ones were more hardcore on skates than anyone else was.
Near the last jam someone hipped checked my new little hero. She went sliding across the floor and stopped near a referee. Instead of jumping right up, (or even pouting) she quickly and firmly put her hands on her hips and glared at the blocker. The whistle blew and Bad Kitty unwillingly skated to the penalty box.
Andy even got into the game, cheering the half pints on. He doesn’t watch any sports. Of course, he may have been watching the adults warm up more than the kids.
Two or three of the Derby Girls, I must say, were quite hot. Yes, many are stocky and should be. You need weight to thro around when blocking. Some of our favorites of the night included Darc Vader, DOA, and the shorter, stockier Babydoll Beatdown. We were sitting next to the latter’s boyfriend and it was hard not to help in cheering with him. “You got it BB!!”
Before the girls hit the floor the cheesy announcer comes on the speakers, “We have suicide sears tonight ladies and gentlemen. Right there behind the blue lines. We only ask that you’re 18 years or older to sit in the front. It’s insurance reasons kids.”
In front of us, I saw the dreaded blue line about four feet from the “out-of-bounds” line. If you’re sitting there and a girl falls, you will be hit. I’d also keep my hands to myself.
Whether staged or not, the final minutes, nay seconds, relied on one jammer cycle and one point. It was like a basketball game. The last seconds can last FOREVER. Red team had come back from being under 20 points to being one point shy of beating the Black team.
The crowd stood, on the floor, folding chairs, and picnic tables. The teams took their places on the line. First whistle signaled the pack to start. The second whistle released the jammers and they were off, grinding into the floor. In the battle for lead Jammer, DOA and Bone Crusher forced through the first blockers. Suddenly a loud long whistle came from Bad Reputation, the referee, and he crossed his arms over his chest.
“Oh no! I can’t believe this! Bone Crusher to the penalty box! DOA just has to make it through to win! Can black hold her off??”
You can’t help but cheer.
“116 to 114! Red team wins! Red team wins! Rosemary’s Baby, I’m sorry. Red team wins!” By the way, how great of a name is that for the Black team coach?

“When can I buy skates?” I asked when we got back to the car. Andy smiled.
“You still want to do it?”
“Mhmmm.” In my head, I was screaming “Towanda!!” But being that Andy is not a fan of Fried Green Tomatos, I thought “mhmm,” was affirmation enough.

“Roller Derby is our calling in life.” My co-worker reassured me. She was really just bragging to someone else, but it still made me feel good. Yes, it is my latest calling.
Just call me Sid-Knee Vicious.
Screw bringing “sexy back.” I’m bringing skating back. Yes, I know that was lame. I’m keeping it though. I needed to bring it back around full circle to something lame. Yeah, it’s staying.