It All Rolls On

On the Outside

Remember when you were a kid and believed that athletes played for the love of the game?

We all do. And we all can remember when we realized that pro athletes care more about money and endorsements than the sports they play. We watch our favorite stars leave our favorite teams for millions of dollars elsewhere, and our hearts are crushed when they take their talents to places like South Beach.

But there is a sport out there that is still pure, and played for passion and love.

So when I say the words “women’s roller derby,” what comes to mind? This is my story of how I became a part of the culture, and why this sport is becoming more popular in America each season.

On the outside, we see tattooed and pierced women. We see crazy hair colors and make up that would cause Mary Kay to roll over in her grave, assuming she’s dead. We see bruises on the skaters and crutches with the injured. And let’s not even talk about the smell of the venue after the game.

But what we don’t see (or smell) is what roller derby does to each woman that participates. The impact it has on every skater’s life. The memories it makes and the development it causes.

Nobody gets paid for playing this sport, at least not yet. These are women with jobs, women in school. These are women with kids, families, and responsibilities. These are women that go to late night or early morning practices, risking their pride and their bodies, only to leave and wake up, going to work the next day.

They will skate in one or two games, or bouts, a month. Not for money or fame, but for respect and fun. Some teams play in larger college arenas while others roll to skate parks, rec centers, high school gyms, and roller rinks.

But that’s not the whole derby way. You see, roller derby is not just a sport; it’s a way of life.

That might sound a little cliché, but spend a day, even an hour, with a team, and you will see how true it is.

I won't go into the rules of the sport, even though it is very different from any other, because it's far more than women knocking each other around on wheels. As awesome as that sounds, it's way better.

From Determinator to Tom Slamilton

My journey into this culture began in November 2010, when I started dating a member of the Cleveland Steamers, one of the four local teams part of the Burning River Roller Girls (BRRG) in Cleveland. I remember the first time she told me she played derby. I thought it was a cute little hobby. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

I became what is called a Non-Skating Official (NSO), or as I called it a “Stat Geek,” for BRRG and went under the alias The Determinator. I made great friends and had a lot of fun. And even though my relationship with the skater known as B-Onya Guard only lasted a few months, my relationship with derby has lasted much, much longer.

Eventually, I ended up moving to Scranton, PA, not knowing a soul. I googled roller derby in the area and became a part of the Wilkes-Barre/Scranton Roller Radicals. I was nervous entering Skate-away, where they practice, for the first time. I was immediately accepted in Cleveland, and feared, having no friends in the area, that my frat-boy/super-geek combination of a personality would be rejected. When the doors swung open and I entered, I was accepted without question or hesitation. Within a week, they treated me like I had been there for years. Like a family member, in a slightly abusive family.

By the time of their last home game, and my first with the team, they had made me their announcer. I had dreamed of being a broadcaster since I was a little kid, and gave up on my dream of doing it professionally after not being able to find a job in that field after college. Some people said it was silly, but it’s always nice to still hold onto a dream, even if it’s just for a few hours a month. With that, Tom Slamilton was born.

The Culture, the Way of Life

Hold on… Determinator? B-Onya Guard? Tom Slamilton? Anyone reading this who is unfamiliar with derby is probably asking themselves “WTF is this dude smoking?”

The crazy names are only one part of the culture. They range from a funny play on words like CupQuake and Smash Potato, to variations of famous characters and celebrities like Rainbow Fright and Stevie NixHer. It’s what the names represent that emphasize the way of life.

Never once have I called Liberty Violence by Alana or HaloChic by Melissa. These names take on a completely different persona. To the outside, professional world, these are hard working, dedicated women. All of them. Many are single mothers. Many struggle to make ends meet. And they don't get paid to play either. In fact they pay to play.

But for a few hours a week, and maybe a game or two a month, the outside world is null. Deep down, hidden from most of their friends and coworkers, these women are warriors on wheels. All the stress and problems of the real world are left on the sidelines, in their smelly derby bags (never sniff one, trust me). All that matters is what’s on the track. Besides, what’s better stress relief than knocking a bitch four feet in the air?

It’s because of all of this, and more, that these women share a special bond. Derby unites them. They call each other “mommas,” “daughters,” and “wifeys.” In fact, I had the pleasure of witnessing a derby wedding in Long Island several weeks ago. It was… interesting, to say the least.

Derby also shows these women that they are not alone. The only comparison that I can think of to the bond that these women share is that of my college fraternity (I know they’re not going to like reading that). I don’t mean anything about drinking, partying, or shenanigans. I am talking about an experience that they all share. I have seen groups of women that call themselves sisters, but the derby family is by far the closest. Too often are groups gossipy, catty, and cliquey, causing rifts and fights. But in derby, it’s all settled on the track.

And the bond goes beyond the team. As a spectator, I wondered how these women could be competing and beating each other down on the track one minute, and then have a beer and laugh about life together the next? From coast to coast, from country to country, it’s derby. It’s a nation, on wheels.

The Final Frontier

So why do I love derby? I’m a 26 year old Jewish professional who moved from an average Midwestern city to the middle of nowhere PA. I have no tattoos or piercings and come from the average American middle class household. Hell, I’ve never even put on a pair of roller skates before. I have made other friends and have found other hobbies in my new home, yet derby has become a part of me. It is not the cute little hobby that I thought my girlfriend had.

I love derby because it is pure. In a day where college players get paid under the table and not one, but two professional sporting leagues have had lockouts over billions of dollars in revenue this year, derby remains a sport untainted by greed and economics.

In many cases, team records don’t even matter. Some leagues don’t even have playoffs or championships.

These women are athletes. Dedicated, hard working athletes. They may not realize it, but their love and passion goes far beyond what any professional has.

And it goes beyond just the skaters. The culture touches refs, officials, announcers, and everyone else involved. From friends to family, for anyone who loved the innocence of sports as a child, there is a little bit of derby in all of us.

This sport will only get more popular. Maybe one day these athletes will get paid. Maybe one day it will have its own lockout over revenue sharing and TV contracts. The fact that one of the most popular skaters, Suzy Hotrod, is featured in ESPN Magazine’s Body Issue foreshadows what’s to come. But the way of life, the culture, will always remain, even if it goes underground.

For now, derby is carving out its own place in American culture and it is capturing the hearts of millions along the way.