At my old league one person asked, “What is a good level of emotional involvement in derby?” Some of us gave our answers. As a league, our favorite answer was “7.” (Thanks Brawler D Lite) My answer was, “be a good girlfriend to derby — have an outside life so that not every little thing on-skates ruins/makes you.”

Which led me to the thought, “what makes a good girlfriend?” This question came up last night when my real-life gf and my new derby friend and I went out. My new friend said she tells all prospective partners that they have to understand, “derby is my primary partner.”

SOOOOO …. What does [sexist, awful, I know] AskMen.com say makes a good girlfriend?  (I could have picked any woman-hating magazine on the Internet, this was done by Google search) Well, I’m taking their top 10s and derby-fying them. I present: 10 traits that make a great girlfriend [to roller derby]!

10. She’s independent. So this goes to the heart of what I wrote above. Derby needs you to have other things going on in your life. If every committee vote and play on the track makes or breaks your day/week/year, Derby is going to feel a little … strangled to death. It hurts the relationship.

9. She’s intelligent. Duh. How is this number 9 on this list? Derby needs you to be a smart lady, making great choices on the track, in your committee and off the track (nutrition, cross training, etc). Derby smart people watch footage (develop common interests with Derby!), implement what they learn in practices, etc.

8. She’s sexual. Hahahahahahahahaahahahahahahaha!   So, for your relationship with derby we’re going to have to adjust “be sexual” to “be a loving partner.” Being loving is important, firstly to yourself. You have to be kind to yourself. If you’re not loving to your skater-self, skating will be less fun. Derby needs you to be loving to your teammates too, because people who are loving are, according to sex columnist Dan Savage: Giving, Game, Good. You have to have the basic skills to be good at derby (not be great, but be willing to practice what will make you a good player), Game to try anything — new skills, new drills, new plays, and giving (of your time, your advice, yourself).

7. She’s beautiful. When I think what makes people beautiful, I often think of smiles and eyes. And I think part of what makes smiles and eyes so beautiful is that is where we can see happiness in a person’s heart. So, to me, being beautiful to Derby means to find and express your joy. My favorite players are the ones who look like they are having the time of their lives while in skates.

6. She respects you. This is a lot like #10. Derby needs its space from you. That, in part, is respect. But respect also means devoting quality time to derby, respecting your body, respecting the rules and the refs and showing respect for your teammates.

5. She lets you be a man. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. I like this list, as a derby list. She let’s you be a man … well Derby, let’s see …. [making something up…. ummmmmm]. Yeah, I’ve got nothing. So here is AskMen’s super sexist “how to be a good woman, bitch make me a sandwich” description of how you should let your partner [Derby] be a good man…
“Do not — I repeat — do not get involved with a woman who tries to get you to eat cottage cheese and fruit for breakfast and insists that you give up poker night with the guys. You will end up resenting her more than you can imagine. A good girlfriend lets you be a guy in all your glory, poker night and all. If she’s a great girlfriend, she’ll even bring you and your buddies a couple of beers and make you some of her famous sandwiches.”

What the fuck.

4. She doesn’t nag. I’d rather phrase this rule as “picks battles wisely.” And that’s important. To be a good girlfriend to derby you can’t nitpick every little thing. That means sometimes in your committee meetings you let things go that you think could be done differently. You don’t nag your teammates who don’t understand something, you explain it to them kindly. And you don’t nag (beat yourself up) yourself for things you could of/should have done, you just resolve to be a better athlete. And then you do that.

3. She gets along with family and friends. Derby’s friends and family include: refs, NSOs, fans, coaches. Being a good girlfriend to Derby means being nice to those people who help make derby happen where you are.

2. She loves you. Awwww! Love the sport!

1. She makes you want to be a better man. What would make Derby want to be a better sport? Trying the new ruleset and supporting it. Giving great feedback to your league about changes in the sport. Watching the game and financially supporting leagues by buying merch, bout tickets. And by being the best player you can be elevates the sport that little bit.

My last team used to talk a lot about energy. Especially the night before bouts. “How will you use your energy,” my last captain used to ask us all.

In that season, we went from “that” team to zen. By “that” team I mean the team with the bench of screaming crazy-looking ladies. You’ve seen it before. In the penalty box, we would instantly look angry and mean. Some of us might have built up so much bad energy in the box that we re-entered the track with a vengeance … which 90% of the time sends you back to the box.

“If you go to the box and react negatively, using words or gestures you are draining your energy. You do not need to punish yourself for the actions that put you in the box the reff has already punished you,” my last captain, Hurricane Bethany said.

I like that a lot. It’s true. Thoughts like, “I DID NOT [insert penalty here] HER!” or ref hating or self loathing or self pitying don’t make you a stronger player. And it shows when you get out of the box. If you’re leaving your team one woman short, they need you to be your strongest. Anger only weakens us.

I like to think of penalties as unfortunate little respites. Because who in their 45th minute of a bout doesn’t want a little chill time? It’s hard to keep this mindset as you watch your team play short, but (for me anyway) it’s essential. Being calm and zen makes me strong.

And, as it turns out, yelling on the bench doesn’t give the refs much incentive to say, “Oh. Yeah. You’re right. I didn’t quite understand your argument until you screamed at me while calling me a ‘big jerk’ from the penalty box. Please, come back and play.” If you’re in the box unjustly, first know that it happens all the time. Second, actually assess if what you did was illegal so you never [ideally] do it again. Third, if it was truly truly an egregious call, your team can use their official review.

And although this zen philosophy was developing for me in my penalty box time and I noticed I played better after concentrating, watching the game and using that penalty box time to analyze my competition (instead of fume and scream), it didn’t click that I needed to use this elsewhere. See, on the line-up bench, I felt like I had to yell. “SLOW DOWN! SPEED UP! OJ OJ OJ OJ OJ!!!!” etc. There are lots of reasonings I gave for this, but looking back, maybe it was just a lack of trust (an upcoming blog post). Lack of trust in my teammates, new coaches, etc.

It’s still not easy for me to be zen and focus on the bench. Here’s what helped: Hurricane Bethany was sitting next to me one game while I was shouting my uvula out, “getting ready” to play the next jam, and she said “I need you to be calm. I can’t be zen when you’re yelling.” And for some reason her saying that it was what she needed helped me. “Oh. I can’t ruin Bethany’s zen, that’s important,” I thought. Which is true, but also silly that I was willing to let my own zen get crushed by my … enthusiasm. Was I a less tired, less winded and more focused player by using my energy to yell on the bench? Absoltuely not.

So now I’m quiet on the bench. Focused. Thinking about what my teammates and I need to do in the next jam. Because when it comes down to it, derby is played jam by jam. Each jam is a new chance to reset, calm down and focus.

So that’s how I feel about energy. It starts before the game. The night before the game I can be found ….

Right. Cooking food and watching derby archives. (Right now I’m making quinoa with curry powder and soy milk topped with an egg, tomatoes, onion, beet greens and some mozzarella. Getting ready for practice. Watching Angel City versus Sacred City on WFTDA.tv)

The other day at scrimmage I was the only blocker on the track for my team. Actually, I was the only member of my team not in the penalty box. It was 5 versus me. And I pulled out the tactic I sometimes pull out when I’m scared … because it turns me from a scared person to a scary person. I made a video about this a while back when my old team’s rookies were about to play their first bout. I share this with you today:

And yeah, that jammer didn’t know what the heck to do.

Men’s derby? Yes. Banked track? Oh yeah. Children’s derby? Yes. Dinosaur derby? Please!? Japanese game show horse racing roller derby? YES. 

I believe everyone should wear roller skates. As frequently as possible. Derby Lite, men’s league, rec league, whatever. Just get in roller skates, baby.

Tonight I went to my first junior derby bout(s). I’ve seen these girls around my league’s practice area, so I knew they could skate. But this was the championships for the four home teams. The first bout was close at first, but eventually turned into a 100-point separation.

But the second bout was tight tight tight. Maybe a billion lead changes, especially toward the end. It was a 8-point game, I think. Won by a power jam. Just like big-girl derby.

These girls were 12-17 years old. And, as I said, I 100% support junior derby, but I’m also sort of torn about it.

The pros: We — derby nation — are helping raise strong, fierce, independent-but-team-minded women who can work together and have learned to get up after every fall. They know what it is to win and lose and that no one is a star — they all need each other. And that’s super important and something to be wicked proud of.

The maybe-not-so-pro(????): We are raising the next generation of derby players. Literally. Since derby made a comeback in the mid-2000s, there haven’t been “professional” players. It’s an amateur sport. And that’s why a lot of us love it. A 40-year-old English teacher who has never roller skated (“who the fuck roller skates?”) or done anything athletic in her life can easily join many fresh meat squads around the nation. If she works hard, she can probably be on a B team in a year. The girls who join derby and are instantly good are usually the oddities who play hockey or were rink rats growing up.
How does junior derby change this? Maybe it doesn’t. But maybe it trains a load of women how to play derby and they go into real teams. And then these 40-year-old teachers are now not only competing for a spot on a team with an 18-year-old, but a teenager who is trained to play and has played for literally years. Maybe it takes a little of the “anyone can do it” out of the sport.

OK. Enough of that not-so-nice stuff. What it really comes down to is this: Derby is changing. Has been since day one. We’re getting new rules, new loopholes, new players all the time. That’s another beautiful part of this sport. So if we get all these rambunctious, talented young ladies, the sport will shift — again. And again. And again. Elevating the sport. Arguably mainstreaming it, sure. But is that so bad? There will be B teams and rec leagues and maybe that’s where the “everyone can play” aspect of derby is going. Raising strong young women is more important anyway. We need more of those.

One thing I’m proud of: I left it all on the track today at endurance practice. Three things I’m grateful for: A new teammate who gives me great feedback, my new endurance coach who is firm but supportive and helpful and kind, the chance to do this.

I watched a bout tonight with a final score of about 320 to 60.

“Yikes,” I said to my new teammate, who sat next to me.
“Yeah. But they’ll be twice as good tomorrow,” she said.
“Been there,” I told her.
“We all have.”

The ass handing. It happens. In derby-land, all the time.

In fact, this happened to be almost exactly one year ago, at my first bout. It was my entire team’s first game ever. We lost 266-62. The next day, we were twice as good.

That night was tough. Every jam a struggle. I think I jammed five times and scored nothing. Just got beaten and beaten and beaten to the floor. And I had a blast.

“I HAVE NEVER BEEN HIT THAT HARD,” I remember saying. “I didn’t even know girls COULD hit that hard,” I told my teammates, who shook their heads in agreement.

And that’s when WE started practicing hitting that hard. It was the first time we thought about “walls” or, dare I say it, strategy at all.

My old team recently beat that old team in a tournament. And although we won that tournament, and therefore beat 10 other teams, it was that game — not even the championship game — that we were proudest of. Not because we beat that team, we loved that team, but because we beat our old selves. We learned what we already knew somewhere: We weren’t those same girls anymore. And a lot of it was due to that first asswhipping.

Call it a loss, but we’ll see in a year 🙂

Thing I’m proud of: I was the only blocker for my team today at one point, against 5 opposing skaters, and I held their jammer until my jammer came back. Really proud of that. Three things I’m grateful for: I’m grateful there is so much derby in this city to watch and learn from (four bouts this weekend!), and for my newfound hemp/cactus protein powder my loving girlfriend bought me, and for my new teammates who saved me a seat at the bout tonight.

When freshmeat (new skaters) come to derby, it’s often about fun, friends, fishnets. And at some point through fall drills and endurance laps and enough scrimmages and bouts, those who stick come to love derby not as a game or a hobby, but as the sport. And that’s a tough adjustment (but that’s for another post).

With that adjustment comes the “me” part of it. If you’re playing a sport, you’re an athlete.  Athletes don’t eat like you ate before. They crosstrain. They watch lots of derby footage to scope out other teams. They do lots of things that the girl you were at tryouts wouldn’t have dreamed of doing. Or eating.

Yesterday I was sick. Labyrinthitis. It means I was too dizzy to stand up yesterday, nevermind drive to the rink or skate. I missed practice. If I’m not better by tomorrow, I’ll miss another.

Other skaters will sympathize, because somewhere along the line not roller skating and not doing planks and pushups and endurance laps became a punishment. Weird, right? Because for me, eating this much spinach and eggs and doing that many minutes of squats used to be the grueling part … not lying in bed watching WFTDA.tv …

Time to rest and heal.

As blog followers know, I was on a 30+ day road trip. No Internet … during regionals … all the regionals. I’m still catching up. Some people have drinking games, I have a derby game.

Here’s how you play my game. I call it “watching roller derby”:
First half: plank first 30 seconds of every jam
Second half: do five pushups at the start of every jam
Official time outs: bicycles.

Because what’s more motivating than watching the thing you’re working for (being a better athlete) to get you to crosstrain? I like planks and pushups because I don’t get a lot of arm work in my regular skating practices. I also like it because if I set the laptop on the floor at the right height, I don’t miss a thing while I’m doing these exercises.

You can usually get in 50 push ups and 10 minutes of planking in this way … per game.

Some recent games I’d HIGHLY recommend:
Texas v Atlanta (HOLY!)
Nashville v No Coast (hooooo!)
London v Philly

They’re all free on WFTDA.tv. Get strong, get smart, get up-to-date on our ever-changing sport.

I had a rough night.

I recently transfered to this new league. It’s a ranked league that’s often seen at nationals. I came from a tiny tiny league in a small town on the coast of Maine. A big jump. Despite this, and despite warnings at the rink that “it’s very competitive,” and despite only having skated for 1-2 bouting seasons, I was sure my new league would find me “hometeam-ready.” They didn’t. And I was very disappointed. I did make the league, officially.

But, suffice it to say I was very sad last night. I gave it my all and I thought I would be allowed to skate with the home teams.

But it’s a new day. It’s the day I have to put on my great attitude and be a good athlete and true derby girl. Today is bounce back day. And I am. I feel better. I’m going to train harder. I’m now with a whole new bunch of women who are more experienced than I am and who are going to teach me a lot — and that excites me. I’ll be doing that  in “the pool” (non-drafted skaters and fresh meat) for a while. And that’s OK.

Actually, it reminds me of trying out for Footloose at my high school. It was my freshman year and I was cast as Alice. (There is no Alice in Footloose, by the way). “Is Alice an extra?” I asked the drama teacher. “Yes,” she said. “Oh. Great. I’m going to be the best extra ever,” I told her. She smiled.

I just have to be the best “select grade” transfer ever now. 🙂 I mean — I got onto a very good league with only a couple of bouting seasons under me. That’s something to be proud of.

The training committee told me it shouldn’t take me long to be a hometeam skater. They told me the skill I need to work on is my speed skating form. Of all the things that could have been said to a skater, that’s pretty good, I think. Attainable. It’s not my blocking, jamming, speed, endurance, attitude … tough things to work on.  I plan to show them my enthusiasm and how I welcome their input. I’ll find a buddy with great speed skating form and work on mine. I’ve emailed my local skate club and asked if they know anyone who would be interested in giving me some speed skating lessons.

Derby is about endurance. This is something to endure. Derby is about falling down and getting back up — quickly. This is my time to brush off any pain and put on my skates and get low until I’m drafted. Until I’m a better athlete. A better person. Wiser, more patient, more skilled. This is me, about to grow. And growth hurts and is fulfilling. All we can do is give it our all, try our best and leave it all on the track with no regrets. That’s what I plan to do next. I’m ready.

One thing I’m proud of: My bounced-backedness … resilience? Three things I’m grateful for: A community of readers I know will empathize and not criticize, time to work on my form, the [earned] privilege of being able to skate for this new league.

Today, a shout out to Bangor Roller Derby, a team I once skated with.

BRD made it onto PostSecret with this gem. 

BRD just got off the ground and recently started scrimmaging. They’ve fought hard to keep girls skating through venue-shifts and drop outs, so it’s nice to hear that BRD, like lots of derby leagues, is helping people through hard times.

I moved to my new town a week ago. I miss my friends and the comfort of home, but yesterday someone added me to my new leagues fresh meat private facebook page. People have commented on my arrival including, “Welcome to the [North West] Dash, u have a built in family here!”

And it’s true. I don’t know these ladies yet. And, to be clear, I don’t need someone to save my life, but that sense of belonging, community, friendship, camaraderie of lots of women working toward a common goal feels like home. I recently took a long road trip through the United States and Charm City in Baltimore let me skate a practice, as did Bay Area Roller Derby in Oakland, California. And after weeks of not showering, of sleeping in my car and eating peanut butter on bread day after day (OK, that actually felt sort of normal), having my feet in sweaty skates and touching the skater in front of me’s back in a paceline felt like a refreshing wave of normalcy. Of home. No matter where I was. I’m glad this lady found that sense of home and love and support in Bangor Derby.

For me, derby didn’t save my life — it made me a better person (that’s a blog post for another day) — but it’s nice to hear (and re-hear) that it’s saving someone else’s. It’s a hard lesson to remember in minute 80 of endurance practice that the attitudes we have and the love and support we show our teammates on the track matters — it could be life or death.

Love each other,

—Dash

(One thing I’m proud of: Enduring one hour of strength training and one hour of endurance practice yesterday; three things I’m grateful for: A support system of women from my last league, the acceptance and enthusiasm my new league is showing me, my best friend and derby mentor Mistress of the Knife for getting me this far.)

Bonnie D Stroir gives a great pep talk. So does this guy [sort of] who studies happiness and says, “See what we’re finding is it’s not necessarily the reality that shapes us, but the lens through which your brain views the world that shapes your reality. And if we can change the lens, … we change your happiness“

Progress is success.

It’s super hard to remember this. Especially as a roller derby player. The women I have skated with never seem to realize how awesome they are. When you tell them they did a great job, they often shrug it off. Bonnie talks a lot about this too (sorry, but this is a very Bonnie-inspired post).

At a tournament I went to a few weeks ago I saw a jammer slide right through a pack of six blockers — and only two were on her team. She came in for a second pass and picked up a couple points, but not all four — overall, adding to her team’s score. But the girl tugged the jammer panty off her helmet and started berating herself at her teammates. In my head I was yelling, “You got lead jammer and scored two points with only two of your own blockers in the pack, that’s fantastic.” But I could hear her saying she got only two points and she sucked. Did this “I suck” attitude help her play the next 45 minutes of the game? Did it make her want to excel and help her teammates and believe in herself to score more points next time? Probs not. She was scolding herself for success.

And we do it all the time. This happened to me yesterday. It was my second transfer skater tryout day for my new league. I won Most Valuable Player for my team in the scrimmage. The way this league works is that I prove myself in two days and then they tell me my placement, which determines which teams I can tryout for (if any). When I came home and told my girlfriend I won MVP she said congratulations. I said, “Thanks. We’ll see if it counts for anything.”

Oh, Dash. Was MVP not good enough for you? On your SECOND day of practice? I too need to learn to celebrate my small victories. Because happiness is something we practice. And it’s a weak spot of mine right now. I see my goals: make the best placement, make the travel team this year, make it to nationals next year, make it to Team USA after that. But if I can’t be happy about allllll those billion things along the way, what makes me think I’ll be happy if I ever do wear a Team USA jersey? Just like my jamming and blocking and endurance, I need to practice being proud of myself and happy where I am now.

SO, as a staple on this blog I will have at the end of each post: one thing I’m proud of and three things I’m grateful for.

Today it’s these: I am proud of myself for winning MVP of the scrimmage yesterday. I am grateful for my girlfriend who supports me. I am grateful for my healthy body that allows me to skate. I am grateful for this team for allowing me to come into their family as a transfer.

Later skaters.