San Diego Reader

A few years back I was being interviewed by a radio station, and I ran into a guy I went to high school with. We ended up talking, and staying in touch.

Since I worked as a DJ years earlier, he asked my advice, as he was auditioning to become one of the announcers for a local roller derby team.

He ended up getting the gig.

And, we ended up writing a story together on it. Most of the work in this story came from him. His name is Mike Tomasulo, but I think he might go by some other name when he broadcasts. Just as the players do.

The Reader ended up not running the story, so I thought I’d post it here. Enjoy.

--- While I did enjoy the A&E reality series, “Rollergirls,” it did not make me a fan of roller derby. My memory of roller derby was the matches they used to play on Saturday afternoon television years ago in the late 70s. They were scripted, and more akin to professional wrestling than an actual sport. Also, like wrestling, once I saw the safety space between contact points of the players, I quickly lost interest.

When I first saw a commercial for Rollergirls several years ago, my first thought was, “A reality series about the roller derby? What does a fake sport have to do with reality? This is an oxymoron, and a train wreck waiting to be filmed. I’ll watch.” While I waited for staging, I saw strategy. While I waited for fake stunts, I saw actual impact. While I waited for scripts, I saw intense training that the women were required to be at or they were not allowed to play in their next bout (“bout” being the word for their games against other teams).

In the reality series, the ladies in Austin, Texas were out to turn roller derby into a legitimate sport. Roller derby had been away for 25 years, so all they had to start off with was a goal and a desire to be part of something bigger than their selves. The women were responsible for raising all of their own funding, purchasing the actual track on which to skate, and finding a place to set up that track which would also allow room for spectators. By the end of Rollergirls, I still had not become a fan. Through my television screen, it looked like a chaotic Indy 500, with dizzying music video cut-aways. The series came and went with little visible fanfare.

Now, a lot of other reality shows start up and spawn similar versions of the same thing. That didn’t happen with Rollergirls, but the concept ignited a spark in the hearts of women skaters across the country. Women began forming teams.

About a year ago, I heard that San Diego had formed a one-city league, The San Diego Derby Dolls, and there were two teams within that league -- “The Diego Rollers” vs. “The Hard Corps.” I went to check them out, only because it was something different to do. Before entering the rink, I remember having to sign a waiver saying that I understood that a woman might fly into me. (And this is bad how?)

The track was flat, with only tape on the floor as boundaries. And because you either sat on a single step four inches from the floor, (or the bench behind it against the wall, and yes, they have hit the bench behind it) a woman could, indeed, fly into you. When the whistle blew, I noticed that each bout began twice. The flock of blockers started around the track on the first whistle, and ten seconds later, another whistle blew, and the jammer from each team followed. The third whistle was the one in my head that went off when I realized that watching this sport on television never has, nor never could do it justice. I had felt the same when I first saw a hockey game as a kid. It was the San Diego Sharks in the late 70s, at the House of Ice in Mira Mesa. It cost a $1.50 to get in. I didn’t even know anything about hockey, but the excitement of seeing professional athletes ply their trade, slam each other into the boards, and occasionally see blood (or a tooth) fly out, was incredible.

Roller derby took that level of excitement up a notch. Its athleticism, its strategy, its technique -- all lost to editing choices that were no ones fault but circumstance.

When you watch roller derby, you aren’t focusing on one thing, but two. You have the flock of blockers who are skating around the rink deciding, based upon whether their team’s jammer is in the lead or trailing the other team’s jammer, will they maneuver themselves in position to help their jammer through the pack, or prevent the other team’s jammer from working her way through, preventing the other team from scoring. (The jammer has to pass through the pack twice, scoring one point for every member of the other team they overtake on the second pass.) The Derby Dolls skate like sharks swim; slow, methodical movements as they travel in their pack, searching the ocean for prey. They keep a steady, gentle pace, but are always ready strike. Meanwhile, you have the two jammers defensively trying to block or slow down other, all the while racing to catch up to the said flock of blockers. The tension mounts when you watch these two almost separate games collide and become one fireball of blocks, hits and dodges.

Seeing the sport live, you learn that the hits are real. So real, that each bout has two paramedics on the scene at all times. Ruthless Kill 187 had the EMTs rush over once. She says, “It was the 2007 Championship game. I tore something in my knee. It was the 3rd quarter and I was up blocking. Me and my fellow teammate went for the 1,2 hit on the other teams jammer and as we hit her my skate got hooked on someone elses, and I went down hard. My knee pad slipped out of place and my entire body weight and momentum landed directly on my twisted knee. Everyone else instantly got up and as I reached for my knee pad to move it back into place, I knew something was wrong. I tried to stand up and before I knew it, was back on the floor. I laid there in the fetal position writhing in pain as EMTs ran over, along with a few of my most loyal dolls. They helped me up to my foot. The crowd roared the second I stood up. It was so inspiring. My mom took me to the ER. My team went on to win the championship bout without me. As soon as I came out of the X-ray room, my girls were there with the trophy in hand. To this day, my doctors still cannot tell me what is wrong with my knee, despite dozens of X-rays and tests.”

Asking the other girls about injuries, I find most of them have a story. Vera Bang told me, “Both my injuries are memorable, but only because I still have them: a broken tailbone from my very first practice with the big girls, and an ass hematoma from my second bout.”

Pearl Knuckles says, “I have torn two ligaments in my thumb, crushed two bones, six fractures in my hand, one dislocated thumb, two broken ribs, four broken and missing teeth, and a broken toe.”

I think back to being a kid, collecting baseball cards and reading the stats on the back, that show how many home runs and RBI they have. A card with these stats would be much more interesting. Pearl adds, “The best was breaking someone elses clavicle a couple weeks ago.”

I remembered going to a party the Derby Dolls had a year ago, and Aunt Flo told me about a time she hit the concrete and got a concussion, and how all her front teeth were knocked out. I was surprised, and impressed, that women are willing to risk teeth for such a sport. Flo also has scars, and told me parts of her hip has no feeling.

At the same party, Kel told me about a separated shoulder, and a breast implant that came out after she started skating too soon after surgery.

Robin caught a wheel in the stomach that caused a blood clot and hematoma. I remember roller skating as a kid, and the most dangerous things about the wheels, was running over a pebble that would sometimes send you flying.

The rest of the injury report is as follows; Lemon Drop: I played the last bout with a broken wrist, does that count? I have only one of four ligaments left in my left knee and a rotator cuff tear in my shoulder. And…I’m old enough to be these girls mother!

Lady Diesel: I got an ACL injury in a scrimmage, had surgery in July, and won’t be back until next month.

Cool Hand Lou really got into telling her story.

“I had finally passed my evaluations and was introduced to the brutal force of the Derby Dolls. I was nervous but excited, as I rolled into my first practice. I was determined to become an asset to the program. We start the night with block party – everyone skating every which way, throwing blocks with the intent to be the last doll standing. I make it for about 45 seconds when a train came out of nowhere. I decided to meet her head on. Well, more like face on. Her helmet kissed my teeth with grace and precision. I firmly relaxed on the rink and managed to decorate my mouth with blood. Trying to talk, smile, and nod that I was OK, but dazed. She ran and retrieved some ice while I inspected the damage inside my mouth with my tongue. It was shredded in there. That beautiful fang of mine managed to gouge out most of my upper lip, but no stitches were required. Once the bleeding stopped and I managed to chew off the loose pieces, I was back on the floor. The rest of the night was a daze and my head was killing me. My lip was a little fat and scabby, but I am proud of it. It was a true introduction to the girls and their great skills. I received their brutal reception. I just can’t wait to one day return the favor.”

A few of the girls hadn’t gotten back to us on their injuries. And, a few were like Slamurai, who simply said, “I haven’t had any major injuries, knock on wood. The worst so far is just some gnarly rink rash on my butt cheek.”

Watching the bout, I start making comparisons to the A&E series, trying to apply what I saw on the show versus what I was learning by witnessing it live. At the same time, I was amazed how hard these women went down, as well as how quickly and how often they got up and skated off the pain. Occasionally, someone would go down and stay down. Paramedics would attend to her, and eventually, help her skate off of the rink. Even more amazing, more often than not, whoever was helped off the track soon made their way back to the track again. At this point, it dawned on me what had held my attention watching Rollergirls, as well as the Derby Dolls.

Amazing, incredible, undefeatable, raging, unconquerable, heart. These women are true sportswomen in every sense of the word. They chose a very physical sport with some intense contact, and they never act like that is not part of the package. These women are better on their skates than most people are on their feet. A vast majority of the time, they take their hits and get back into the bout without so much as a flinch (sometimes catching themselves before they hit the ground). You can tell by the look on their faces that sometimes they’re in pain. With that in mind, to see someone escorted off of the track by paramedics only to return to the game ten minutes later is a wonder to behold. Even though you see this in football games, how often have you also thought “Well, they are covered with pads everywhere.” Sure, they do have their share of pads. But they hit the rink hard, and you can hear the thud. And sometimes the pad slips out of place, as Ruthless explained earlier.

If you attend games regularly you are often fortunate enough to see one player or another “get it” -- make that sudden and enormous leap in skill and flex that new muscle like she just learned how to fly.

In her own way, she did.

They compete fiercely, but always with the respect that one’s competitive skill defines a champion. They fight to win. On the track, they are there to win. Off, they are ready to congratulate their opposing team members on a game well played. Their indomitable heart draws you to their sport, and somehow makes you want to be a part of it. It is also something that has been missing from professional sports for a couple of decades now, and what I assume, draws some to collegiate sports over professional ball.

Glancing at the Derby Dolls season, I see there are months and months of bouts. I catch Lemon Drop, the older gal. I ask “If you keep going, aren’t you afraid your ligament will give out?”

She says, “There can’t be fear or you will get really hurt. Girls that get hurt skate safe. Plus, I will have something to talk about when I’m old. Some days when I get up and everything hurts and I’m having trouble keeping up with the girls half my age, I question myself. Captaining the new girls has been my salvation this year. Average life span of a derby girl is only one and a half years, and I’ve already beat that. Like Coach Pauly says – roller derby is crack with no rehab.

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