Some girls on my league have their first bout tonight and I’m going to miss it. I’m in Chicago to celebrate my aunt’s 65th birthday. You know, achieving that derby-life balance thing. Sort of. I already requested text updates from friends who are attending. I got to thinking about my first bout this week. I had to be cajoled into participating — it was a fresh meat showcase in a rust belt city about four hours away, which was probably a blessing because no one I know needed to see it. To put it very mildly, I did not know what the fuck I was doing. I had joined league about five months earlier and things were not clicking. The rules, the strategy, everything…
Reflections on roller derby
Posts from the “zebras” Category
I’ve heard people say they like to play derby angry. I definitely do not subscribe to this view. Negative feelings create distractions and sloppy play, in my experience. It’s rare anywhere in life that anger gets channeled to create productive, positive outcomes. That said, I do have a propensity toward periodic righteous indignation, especially when I view myself as the victim of a penalty. The more egregious the penalty, the more righteous my indignation. Like last night, I got elbowed in the face during a scrimmage. I immediately turned to the offender as I wheeled into the infield and frantically called the jam and asked: “What the f%$k?” A rhetorical question, of course, delivered in a tone one might describe as “acidic.” The poor…