Derby

     We pull into the parking and gawk out the windows- fierce women emerge from a car several spots down wearing spandex and toting heavy gear. I’ve arrived with three other apprentices to the Solstice Slam, this month’s home roller derby bout for the Rock Coast Rollers. We came in support of farmers Reba and Bill, who, respectively, skate for the team and announce the bout.

Rock Coast Rollers block the Upper Valley Vixens's jammer

     Reba, farmer and mother, was initially at odds with my picture of what a derby skater might look like. Although tall and strong, she very much looks both the farmer and mother with her shorts and sandals, practical digital watch, and superhuman ability to multitask. My impression of derby came from a friend in Chicago who periodically tried to get a group together to go see a roller derby bout. The spirit with which he approached the event (as though it were a circus), and the description he provided- girls on rollerskates racing around a track and pummeling one another- made it sound more like a vaguely lewd version of WWE more than athletic event.

     However, either I had it wrong, or midcoast Maine does it a bit differently. While many of the cast of characters associated with the team fit the bill- women who work on boats and are known to arm-wrestle men in local bars, women with heads shaved to reveal tattoos who work at the food co-op, the team and bouts are surprisingly family-oriented. Bill and Reba’s children aged 3 and 6 excitedly stayed up way past bedtime to attend, as did a number of the kids’ friends, various CSA members, and a variety of random community people. From the car I could see a young edgy lesbian couple in combat boots joke with the elderly couple and grandchildren standing in front of them in line.

     As rain started to fall lightly, we timidly exited the car and moseyed toward the entrance. Reba strides out toward us and calls, “Perfect! Faith, will you substitute as a penalty box timer?” Erm..? Another apprentice who goes a lot of derby practices and had been planning to be the timer was called upon last minute to wear the team mascot banana costume instead of timing.

     “Ok- what does that mean?” Reba ushers me in and a succession of authoritative women with clipboards instruct me in the relevant basics of derby. As it turns out, one needs to know almost nothing about derby to time the penalty box, only that girls hurling into the seats there need to stay there for 60 seconds, paused for interruptions in the game. Start timing when the “meat hits the seat.”

     The bout started and I slowly became confident to brace the chairs for oncoming impact and assertively call out remaining times. The game itself also became clear with occasional explanations from other NSOs (non-skating officials). Two teams of five skate in circles. One skater from each team is designated the “jammer” and scores points for her team by lapping opposite team members. It’s a bit more complicated than that, but you can imagine the chaos and ferocity that ensues.

     Derby is a pretty exciting time, with a much different vibe than I had imagined. Instead of purely a spectacle, it’s much more participatory in spirit. And while the women do play up the aesthetic with crazy outfits and their derby names – “Vengeful Vegan”, “Roto-tilda”, “Ginny Wheelsly”- at the core it’s actually a sport and has a competitive but incredibly friendly tone. The women have this kind of fiercely supportive sisterhood among their own team, as well as extending to the other. They are lobsterers and vegans and disproportionately queer, but also mothers, students, farmers, artists. It’s a diverse and empowering sort of group and sport. The women come from all over, but are fierce and strong, and invite the audience to take part in a festive and positive atmosphere.

     We skip the afterparty and return home past ten- way past a farmer’s bedtime, but well worth it.