Blog de Puree

On Saturday night, I had the opportunity to witness what’s becoming a resurgence of an American phenomenon known as roller derby. At the Shriner’s Auditorium in Wilmington, MA, the Boston Massacre took on the the Liberty Bells of Philadelphia, who gave our home team a bit of a drubbing, beating us by over 35 points.

Regardless of the score, it was one of the most exciting times I’ve had at a sporting event in years. These ladies skated their hearts out, took some nasty spills and threw shoulders, asses and body checks like veteran Canadian amateur hockey players. (See the movie Slap Shot with Paul Newman)

But it wasn’t an all out thrash-fest. There are strict rules and aside from a few major infractions, the skaters were quite courteous and very supportive of one another.

It would take me a lot of blog space to explain the ins and outs of roller derby rules, so I’ll quote Will Kilburn, a Boston Globe correspondent from an article he wrote in March of 2006:

“The goal, as in roller derby of old, is for each team to get a designated skater—the ”jammer”—ahead of the other team’s four ”blockers” while preventing that team’s jammer from doing the same. All of this is done on a track, marked out on the floor in black tape, that’s barely wide enough for three to skate side by side. The Dames will tell you showmanship is part of the equation. But make no mistake: This is a real sport.”

There’s more to it, of course, but that’s the basic premise.

Be advised, guys are not allowed to play. (But they can become referees, coaches and score-keepers) The Boston league, known as the Boston Derby Dames, consists of three teams: The Nutcrackers, The Wicked Pissahs and The Cosmonaughties. While the team names are fun, the player names are even better. The players go by monikers such as Kitty Twister, Pussy Venom, Ivana Clobber and Wanda Whipya.

The teams are made of small and big women. But don’t let their size fool you. The big girls are fast and nimble, while the quasi-waifish ladies, even when sent flying off the track by a brutal body check, come racing back into the mix with a look of unbridled fury in their eyes that would strike fear into a charging horde of Ghengis Khan’s angry Mongolians.

The fans are also an interesting mix of groupies, lonely nerdish guys, lesbians, curiosity-seekers and interestingly enough, parents and baby-boomers who follow the league with the same interest as they guy who might sit next to you at a Red Sox game with a pencil, score book and headphones to hear the game on the radio. There were also a good number of indie and punk rockers there to see The Dents, a punk rock band that played during the breaks between the three periods. And they were great too! I’d definitely recommend catching one of their shows if you get the chance.

Another interesting thing about the eclectic crowd was that there was no animosity between the different groups. Everyone was friendly, from what I could see, and they were all very supportive of the skaters. A mascot dressed as a giant lobster got the crowd on its feet chanting, stomping and clapping. And fans help up motivational signs, such as this one.

The only downside of the evening were the announcers. As a newbie to the sport, they didn’t offer much by the way of play-by-play announcing or useful color commentary. It was more like three fans had the microphone and they spurred the crowd on from time to time and one announcer reprimanded us for booing a bad call from the referee. But she was from Philly, and obviously hadn’t met real Boston fans before.

If you get the chance, the Boston Derby Dames are an absolute must-see. No. Wait. There is no chance. You must go see the roller derby!