How do the top teams in WFTDA stack up financially? After a couple weeks digging through the data, namely 2013 public tax documents that all nonprofits file, I have the answers for you. Make your bets now. Continue reading “Roller derby finances: Comparing the top nonprofit leagues in WFTDA”
Oh hey. I’ve had a lot of big changes in my life, but thanks for the encouraging comments and emails asking me to blog more/again. I want to. I plan to. As a way to ease back in, here’s what I recently posted to our own fresh meat’s page. I think it’s always, always true:
Roller derby drills are hard. All of them. Even things like stepping side to side, which could seem rudimentary. Plow stopping is also rudimentary, but our travel team (and top-ranked travel teams across the world) practice them every week. It’s important to find goals, fun and fulfillment from even basic drills because that’s a lot of what roller derby is – getting the “easy” stuff down (muscle memory) so we can do it flawlessly in combination with lots of other cool shit when we play the game.
Here’s some things you should consider before ever thinking, “this is boring” — and not just next week or next month, but four years from now :
- Am I doing it in perfect form?
- Can I do it faster in perfect form?
- Could ANY of the veteran skaters do this drill better than I’m doing it right now? If they could, what would they do differently? (then try it).
- How would (insert skater hero here) do this drill? (then try their unique style)
- Can I do this backward?
- Can I do this on one leg?
- Can I do this backward on one leg?
If you can do the drill backward on one leg in perfect form better than any other skater, then you can be bored 🙂
p.s. stepping side-to-side on one leg in perfect form is flippin hard.
This summer I helped coach Rose City’s Derby Daze — an intense weekend of skate clinics — and Rose’s travel team coaches, Rob Lobster and Mike Chexx led a lunchtime talk on coaching. What Mike Chexx said blew my mind.
Specifically, he told me that he categorizes his players into certain groups. When he mentioned the groups I immediately knew I was a positional communicator. My best friend and another skater I work extremely well with are hitters (who don’t communicate as much). Blam. Puzzle pieces. You can put me with another communicative positional blocker, but we’ll just yell and never hit the jammer out. Everything about how I work with other skaters suddenly clicked. So, I asked him for an interview. Aside from being an amazingly calm, smart bench coach Mike Chexx is a derby announcer.
Here’s Mike Chexx:
Can you tell me more about how you think about skaters in positions? What are the positions? (Are there more than communicator, hitter, positional?)
Rob and I finally committed to changing our approach to how to work with our bout rosters late this past season. As part of that, we did develop some classifications (or positions) for skaters: communicator, hitter, positional, clean and offense are the big ones.
We found it extremely important to know which two blockers (if we were in a situation that allowed us only two blockers on the track) were the least penalty prone, but that could also work together and communicate well with one another to help stop a penalty parade*. Nothing takes away momentum in a bout faster than a penalty parade that isn’t ending.
How many of each position would you have in a line-up, in your ideal world? (I know you said you like to have two communicators)
We didn’t really have hard and fast requirements as to how many of each skater-type we wanted in a given line-up. I was always looking for pairings or groupings of skaters that could communicate well with each other, that shared some traits, while being opposite in others (think Belle Starr and Scylla Devourer, or Mercy and Penny Dreadful). In short, I was looking for ways to maximize efficacy on the track at a higher level than the sum of the individual parts.
We prefered to have two communicators in each lineup when possible, but that wasn’t always available. When we started running the two-line-up system, we tried to keep one line-up as a more physical, faster paced, hitting style of lineup; while the other was a slower, more containment focused, positional blocking type of lineup. What we learned in Fort Wayne – and in retrospect, what should have been more obvious to us – were the impacts of moving skaters in and out of those line-ups from bout to bout. Not so much from a skill based on-the-track output, but more from a cohesive mental game standpoint.
What’s the most important thing a bench coach does?
I don’t even know how to begin answering this.
In game time, the way Rob and I worked together, my most important job was to keep the bench (and sometimes Rob) calm and focused. Though I am not foolish enough to believe that by only keeping a bench calm and focused we would be guaranteed victory, I do think the mindset of the team greatly influences the outcome of the bout.
The best example of this I can think of was during the WoJ v Gotham bout from ECDX in 2012. Losing a key jammer early in the bout, and losing another key jammer for a number of jams in the middle of the bout would have severely shaken most other teams in the WFTDA – especially when bouting Gotham. But the bench stayed calm, JK and Acid stepped up huge, and we gave Gotham their closest bout in years. In fact, thinking back, the bench was so calm that KicKassedy (a skater) actually calmed me down at one point, and got me refocused on keeping the bench calm and focused.
When not in game time, studying game footage and statistics were my main focus. The combination of stats and footage were instrumental in constructing lineups and assessing how to work with a roster during game time. Whether or not this would be the most important thing I did when we weren’t bouting could be debated, but I feel like it was.
How do you influence the culture/attitude of your bench?
I try my best to lead by example. I feel that has the most impact on a bench and a team. I try to keep calm, try not to lose my shit when multiple things go sideways at once, and I try to treat everyone with respect. When I coached AoA (B travel team) with Firecrotch, we required that the team thank the officials after a bout, as we had done all season. I also try and hear everyone out, whether I agree with them or not. The key to learning is listening. It is amazing what you can learn when you intently listen and think about what is being said, and the context of the conversation’s content.
What common things do you see skaters do/say that you’d like to see less of? More of?
I will try and keep my answer to this as short as possible. I look forward to the time when derby is truly treated like a sport — both by the public, as well as its players. Speaking specifically in regards to the players, I wish there was more of a team-first mentality. I understand you want to be rostered, but there are only 14 spots for 20 chartered skaters in any given bout. I know you want to play more when you are rostered, but there are only five skaters allowed to participate in each jam. I know it is cliche, but the “W” is the most important thing, an individuals play time and stat line are secondary.
What I have seen more of that I like is the dedication to training during the off-season. We have an incredibly athletic, fit and talented team. And it gets better every season. I also appreciate the level of attention being paid to stats and standings. Not that it wasn’t a focus in seasons past, but again, it gets better every season.
I also appreciated that more skaters supported Rob when he was coaching strategy, as opposed to questioning him. As a team, it was important that we had a cohesive approach and strategy when different things would happen on the track. Most often, when things started to go awry on the track, it was because skaters had different ideas about what should be done in those situations, and wouldn’t back down from their opinions. That has been a weakness in Rose City for years, sadly.
How do skaters earn game time, in your mind?
First and foremost, be at practice. Especially endurance practice. I could give you half a dozen examples of how our endurance training won bouts for us the past two or three seasons.
Second, clean up your game play. Penalty prone = less playing time, or less rostering.
Third, keep it positive. Toward your teammates, your league mates, your coaches, your officials, fans, volunteers, etc. Toxic attitudes on a bench/team are worse than smelly gear trapped in a closed up car on a ninety degree day, and are equally hard to remedy.
*Someone make the man a .gif. Put a link in the comments.
Roller derby has changed and changed and re-changed my body.
I got skinny, I got bigger in some areas (welcome back, awkward teenage years), I got skinny and worried about myself, I got some nice abs for a minute, my thighs bloated when nothing else did, my calves eventually joined in for the ride, my arms shrunk, my face fat went away sometime, my butt joined my thighs and calves … In roughly that order in the two years and nine months I’ve been playing the sport.
I put a slideshow above with updates for just about every six months.
Sometimes the physical changes have been awesome. Sometimes it’s been hard to deal with. I’ve been socialized as an American female. When your thighs bloat out, it can be hard to be enthusiastic. Even when I felt otherwise “skinny.”
I feel (the very feminine need) to buffer here. Arguably, I’m a skinny bitch whining about gaining muscle. However, I feel my perspective is one that’s felt more widely in the derby community: As a woman, it’s not always easy to accept getting physically larger, even when you’re getting fitter.
I’ve come a long way on this — I had to — and I thought I’d share my story:
I never thought I was fat. I also wasn’t skinny. Being not-fat didn’t make it easy, coming to terms with my changing body (Whoa, hello puberty book). At first, I lost weight, mostly from my stomach and face. After a few months and a couple bouts under my shrinking belt, I kept losing weight.
I knew it was food related. I was eating the same (a bagel for breakfast, maybe some spaghetti for dinner and some days nothing in between), but my activity was dramatically increasing. I wasn’t eating much (if any) meat. My body was starved for protein and calories and it was shrinking. It scared me. But my teenage, anorexically-inclined insecurities kept rising up when I tried to eat more than usual. I had to face that. I had to talk kindly to myself. I had to try to think of food as fuel. It’s difficult. But I wanted to get better at this sport and I knew I couldn’t do that and not eat enough. So, I had a long think, reconciled with myself and made the changes I needed to.
That got harder when my thighs suddenly (add animated plomp plomp plomp noise) — it seemed sudden anyway — bulked up. My pants still fit because I’d been wearing loose pants. My teammates were starting to say that their calves couldn’t fit into their skinny jeans and I was jealous. Calves are cute, I thought, thighs are thunderous*. But in derby — and in life — you don’t get to pick and choose your body parts.
My stomach was staying the same and I was beginning to feel muscle developing under a thin layer of fat. That was encouraging. My calves started developing too.
So then I moved from my small league to Portland, Ore.
This forced a massive attitude change. I attribute this to a few things:
1. Roller derby here sucks up so much of my life that skaters make up about 90% of the people I see in a day. Surrounding myself with beautiful, strong women makes me want to be a strong woman, not a skinny woman***. I don’t compare myself to the thin women in movies, magazines and at the mall — mostly because I don’t have time to read magazines, watch movies and go to the mall. I normalized muscle as beauty by consuming images of that instead.
2. My goals need me to fully dedicate myself to my workouts and that means I can’t have these anxiety hangups about food. I do not have the time and I no longer want to expend the energy on thinking about how much two eggs, a bagel, a fruit, my coffee with too much cream, etc “costs” in calories.
3. I skate so much it doesn’t matter what I eat. With up to 15 hours of derby a week when it’s home and travel team seasons, ain’t nobody got time for that [food worry].
So, changes since the move: I went from the fresh meat pool to home team to travel team in six months. So when I say I ramped up my training, I mean three times (little league>FM>home team>travel team). I ate more meat, more beans, more bread, more fro yo (there is so much of it here.), more vegetables, eggs … I just eat more.
That much ramp-up in activity changed my body all over. My abs, which I felt were cute now bloat my stomach. I feel like that’s a thing the Cosmo magazines, etc don’t tell you: Abs are not flat. Abs don’t make your stomach go in. Real abs, if you have more than 7% body fat, bulk out your tummy and make you look a bit bigger. I had to accept that.
My thighs developed more. Thanks, endurance laps. That muscle on top of my thighs exploded (no, not literally. Gross.) and I have this muscle on top of my knee** now. When I stand straight up and look down at my toes, I can’t see my shins anymore because they’re blocked by my derby thighs. I’m elated. My calves are following suit, especially with off-skates footwork training.
My body has gone through a lot of loss, gain, gain, loss in ways I didn’t expect. I assumed that I wouldn’t change because I was already “average” and so roller derby couldn’t affect me this much physically and psychologically, but it has. It’s a whole process of re-adjusting, changing expectations, changing goals and self acceptance.
Some things that have helped me along the way are:
-I don’t use a scale. Ever. That number doesn’t matter. How fast my laps are, how many points I score, how many points I stop — those numbers matter.
-I now know my body is going to continually change depending on my needs and my training. Whatever my body does is what I need.
-Eating more meat. It’s the easy way to get protein.
-Protein shakes. Same.
-Judging my strengths in non-body metrics. Speed, agility, stopping power.
-Changing my image consumption from main stream to athletic.
-Not reading those “fitness” magazines if they have “10 Ways To Lose That Stubborn Belly Fat” or “Three Ways to Make Him Squirm****” cover stories
It’s been difficult at times. I’m happy with myself and my body now. I don’t focus much on the details of what’s changing month to month. If I see a new muscle, I welcome it. If I continue to grow into a larger human being, all the better to block you with. I expect my struggle now to evolve into keeping this muscle now that travel team season is over. It took a long time to get to this level of acceptance. And some days it’s still hard.
I’d love to open up this conversation in the comments. I’ll watch the conversation and chat with y’all. How has derby changed you, physically? Have you had to readjust your thinking? What has helped/hurt? If you only lost weight, was it a nice experience or was there turmoil too?
*Thighs are wonderous. I know this now.
**What the hell is that about.
***This is where I validate the public and say all bodies are OK and it’s OK to be skinny. Whatever.
****How is that fitness.
This is the last installment of the Grim D Mise series. I’ve followed the Maine Roller Derby player through her Team USA tryouts since May. A preliminary roster of candidates was published on the team’s Facebook page and Grim wasn’t on it.
Here’s what she had to say about it:
How are you feeling?
After the Seattle tryouts, I had almost immediately began preparing myself for disappointment. The whole experience of trying out for Team USA twice was something I really needed to help bring me to the next level though. I knew I’d be better athlete having had that experience. It’s really hard to feel disappointed when I can’t stop feeling grateful for the chance to tryout and all the support that came along with it. I’m proud of myself for chasing something that means a lot to me, and it won’t end here. There’s always the next World Cup and another shot at Team USA.
How was the tryout in the West different than the East tryout?
During the East Coast tryouts, there was a wide separation in skill levels between a majority of the skaters. At West Coast tryouts, about 95% of the women that tried out, were very high level derby athletes*. I was pretty blown away. I was looking forward to sharing the track with women I’d idolized from my computer monitor for years, but I did not expect to leave Seattle a fan of so many ladies I’d never heard of.
Did you learn anything about West Coast derby?
West Coast derby is no joke. I got to watch the Rat City vs. Gotham bout while I was in town and had the opportunity to sit with some retired Rat City skaters during the bout, and listening to them talk about what it takes to earn play time on an All Star team out there. It really convinced me that the competition is taken seriously. In addition, learning more about Rose City and exactly what there league does to foster a highly competitive environment was a lot of food for thought.
Who was the funnest to play with/against?
Oh my gosh. I can’t even decide. I will say this, Onda Sligh cracked some funny jokes on the bench.
Do you feel there was anything else you could have done in preparation?
Yes. I wasn’t successful this go around, which means I didn’t do everything I possibly could have. Lesson learned.
Do you feel like there was anything else you should have done at tryouts?
I’m not sure. I followed directions, I tried my hardest and I listened to my teammates. There are definitely things I could have done better, but that’s a given.
What are you proudest of?
I’m really proud of myself for putting a lot of time and energy into something I have an unwavering passion for. I feel like the sport Roller Derby has so much to do with the person I am today. The Team USA tryout experience taught me that although I may have a mild fear of heights, a severe fear spiders and a satirical fear of hicks (like from the movie, “Wrong Turn”**), I have a complete fearlessness on the track and Team USA tryouts brought that out in me. So yeah, I’m pretty proud of that.
How will this experience change you and how you skate?
I need to learn teamwork. I have been competing on my home league for so long primarily as a jammer that I lack the “pack mentality” most veteran blockers seem to have. I’m confident that with more opportunities to scrimmage and bout as a blocker, I’ll get there.
Competing with The Port Authorities and growing Maine Roller Derby. The more our All-Star team improves, the better chances we’ll have competing against higher ranking teams and that will grow us all as athletes. I mean seriously, look at New Hampshire Roller Derby! They are a perfect example of hard work, dedication, focus and improvement. MRD is lucky to have them in our backyard.
That’s the end of this series. I hope you enjoyed it. I plan to … someday … write up my account of how the Team USA tryout went. Plan to see that in the coming weeks when the team posts the final roster.
*Of the 46 people on the Team USA roster (which will be cut) right now, 19 of them were at the Seattle tryout. That’s 41% — a very high figure when there were three tryout locations, plus video submissions.
**So with you there.
It happens in leagues all over the world. A jammer comes out of a drill, sweaty and breathing hard, pulls the panty off her head, smiles and waves it in the air.
“Who wants to jam?”
Happy, huffing jammers approaching the bench with their sweaty panties reminds me of my cat, arriving victoriously at my feet with a bird head. So proud. So happy to share their victory. And frequently, their enthusiasm is met with disgust and resistance.
“Fine, I’ll do it,” is something I hear a lot.
“Oh hell no. I’m a blocker,” is something I hear a lot that pisses me off.
Here’s something I heard once that is entirely true: A jammer is just a blocker in a fucked up situation.
This is a list of things blockers are supposed to do: roller skate, stop, move laterally, hit with power and in good form, control their speed, control the opposing jammer’s speed, communicate, play clean, be strategic and know the rules, otherwise crush the opposing jammer’s soul.
Here is a list of things jammers are supposed to do: roller skate, stop, move laterally, hit with power and in good form, control their speed, communicate, play clean, be strategic and know the rules, evaluate a pack upon approach, otherwise crush the opposing jammer’s and all opposing blocker’s souls.
Not so different.
It’s rare, if ever, that I see a relief jammer goated. When there is a goat on the track, it’s almost always the “oh hell no. I’m a blocker”-skater. Why? She didn’t practice being a blocker in a fucked up situation. She didn’t practice hulk-smashing walls, juking, pushing walls and other totally-necessary derby skills that jammers practice all the time. Her footwork is probably slower. If she hits the jammer out, she probably can’t run backward as fast as the jammer can. Being a jammer is (often) about urgency. It’s a good thing to always practice. Further, I’ve never met a great jammer who can’t block.
Don’t be scared. Realize it’s important at practice to try new things and that putting on a star once in a while translates directly into being a more effective blocker.
Here’s what you need to know before your fresh meat tryout:
You should definitely roller skate first
It’s pretty essential.
In August 2010 I felt comfortable in my new career, but needed something physical. It was my first time trying out adulthood and thought I’d like to maybe be a runner. That seemed adult. So I tried that. Running blows. (Although you should totally read this blog, which is about running, but not at all painful) I’d heard about Maine Roller Derby — a 2-hour drive away — and thought that would be a good fitness goal. Obviously, I wouldn’t join that league because four hours of driving a night is unreasonable, but I thought making the team would be a fun goal. And boy am I goal-oriented.
Anyway, here is what I did before the November tryout (and I was offered a spot in that league, before making a new league in Maine):
-I bought $49 skates* and the cheapest pads I could.
-I started roller skating around my neighborhood after work. I was not good. But you don’t have to be good to start roller skating. You just have to do it. (I didn’t even know they made outdoor wheels. By the way, they make “outdoor wheels.”)
-I found a community center that would let me skate for an hour on Sunday mornings so I could try skating in circles, not on tar.
I worked on these skills:
Stopping by dragging my toe stop (I don’t recommend learning this. It’s very hard to un-learn and eventually you’ll have to)
Crossing over — I did this in both directions because I didn’t know if they played roller derby in both directions. (We don’t, by the way. But it’s good to be ambipedal)
One-foot glides (be able to glide on only your left foot, then only your right foot for 30 feet each)
Squatting through one straight away and one turn (because they told me I would have to)
Did I say you should roller skate?
You should really roller skate. One thing I don’t think beginners understand is that the more time you put on your skates, the more comfortable you look. The more balanced you get. The more confident. Faster. You begin to feel your edges (it’s OK. You don’t have to know what that means). Your crossovers get less awkward. You learn that falling is OK.
If I were your coach, I would probably want you just to skate in circles (both directions) for the first month. You’d hate me. And then you’d be good at roller skating and have some confidence and be so ready to add on skills.
Find out if you can go to a clinic first
Many leagues have pre-tryout bootcamps, which will be of great help. They can help you work on your fledgling skills. If you’re in a city, there might be Derby Lite or Derby 101, which will get you some derby experience before you commit. If you know a derby skater, maybe just ask her to go to the rink with you some open-skate night. She will have pointers**.
Watch a bout first
Ideally you’ll watch the league you’re trying out for. In person. Before the tryout. But if you can’t, at least visit http://www.wftda.tv and click “archives” and pick the video with the funnest name. Don’t expect to understand it all. It’s sort of complicated. But just watch it and listen to the announcers. You’ll learn something and that will help. Becoming a roller derby fan makes you a much smarter derby skater.
Go to the league’s website and learn all you can about the tryout and what you will be asked to do. Email the tryout coordinator to get this information (if possible) before the tryout if you can’t find it. Don’t be pushy or annoying. These people are volunteers.
Have an achievable goal
I recommend going into the tryout with a goal that isn’t “make the team.” I also suggest it not be, “don’t fall.” Pick a goal that’s positive, so instead of “don’t cry” make the goal be “have fun, smile at least twice.” If you’re going to go far in roller derby, you’re going to have to learn how to celebrate small victories. It’s all we get. So if you have a great T-stop, get excited about it.
Try to learn all you can
If a coach offers you a tip at the tryout, take it. Try it. Try new things. Look at how veteran skaters perform a skill. Question them if you can about their style. Know you can have your own style — but that if they have been skating a while, there might be a reason they skate the way they do.
Eat like a normal person
You do not have to eat four lunches on the day of your tryout. Get some carbs, get some protein. Try to eat 2-3 hours before your tryout and not much after that. By hydrated. A suggested day-of menu might be: eggs and toast with a fruit for breakfast, a sandwich at lunch, a burrito for dinner (so long as it won’t upset you). With lots of water.
Be nice to the refs.
Be nice to the veteran skaters.
Be nice to the other people trying out (they might be your teammates soon).
Be nice to the people who own/run the roller rink.
Be nice to any coaches.
Most importantly, be nice to yourself. You’re learning a new thing that is hard. It’s OK to not be great at it.
Fall, then get up so fast
Just accept that both in practice and at the tryout, you will fall. Everyone falls. It’s OK. Just don’t make a big deal about it. Get up so fast. Everyone falls — not everyone can get up quickly and with a smile. Be that person. Skaters love that person.
Have the best attitude
Some fresh meat are picked because they’re ripe. Some fresh meat are picked because the veteran skaters look at that skater who is smiling, joking, having fun, loving life and roller skating, getting up fast when she falls down and they think, “Oh man. I want her on my team.” Regardless of skill. I was the head of tryouts and fresh meat training for my last league. Trust me. For every nine skaters I wanted on my team because of skill there was one I wanted only because of her attitude.
Go for drinks after
If others go out after the tryout, go with them and grab a cherry Coke. Derby is about making friends and laughing about the “mistakes” you made.
*This ended up being a bad long-term financial decision. I made it worse later by upgrading to another bad skate before investing some real money into my current skates, which have lasted
**In reality, she’ll probably just tell you, “it’s OK, just get lower. Bend your knees more.”