What’s In a Name?

Roller Derby is a high impact, full contact sport that requires an amazing level of athleticism, dedication, and training. But that doesn’t mean that Derby Girls don’t have a good time. One of the most fun parts of joining a Roller Derby team is picking out your Derby Name.

Since the Great Derby Revival, circa 2000 AD, derby names have been a part of the game. It is a rite of passage to select your name. Your Derby Name represents your alter ego, the kind of Derby Girl you want to be. It is also unique within the Roller Derby community. When you narrow down your potential names, you have to check each name against the International Rollergirls’ Master Roster. You need to verify that no one else is skating under that name (or one very close to that name). Look at the registry for yourself. It’s pretty damn cool.

http://www.twoevils.org/rollergirls/

As an aside, if you want a fascinating read, the following article discusses a paper written by law student David Fagundes. His paper explores how the social norms of the Derby self-regulate intellectual property—that is, Derby Names—without the need for trademarks, government oversight, or lawsuits.

http://freakonomics.com/2011/04/22/talk-derby-to-me-the-private-regulation-of-roller-derby-names/

Anyway, I think I have landed on a name and a number.  I have not had such a struggle since I had to name my kid 10 years ago.

Here are the thoughts swimming in my head: Am I jumping the gun? Have I earned my name? I think that I have. I think that, although I am nowhere near passing the minimum requirements I need to participate in a scrimmage, I’ve worked my ass off and greatly improved my skating. I am not nearly as good of a skater as my other Fresh Meat peers are. I am still trying to figure out the crossover.

But let me tell you what I can do. I can quickly get up from a two knee fall. I can skate in Derby stance. I can propel myself forward while keeping all 8 wheels on the track (we call those eggshells, by the way).

And I can call myself a Derby Girl. I’m Velma Rinkley, #38.

Sister MSW came up with the name. It could not be a better fit. Not only do I resemble the Scooby Doo smart chick with the glasses, freckles, and red hair, I’m always reading something and occasionally solving a mystery.

Velma Dinkley was never the girl that was worshipped by the guys. They all liked Daphne. Bullies at school used to call me Velma, as if that was the worst thing you could be. Guess what? I’d rather be the nerdy smart chick any day of the week. I’m happy to take back that name.  I know full well that, even at my current skill level, I could take down any one of those junior high assholes with one hip check.

So there you have it. My perfect Derby name. In the immortal works of Ms. Dinkley: Jinkies!

Bambi’s First Derby Bruises

I haven’t come up with a good derby name yet. I’ve got some idea, but I want to be a better skater before I take on a tough new moniker. It seems a bit premature to start having people call me Banksy Skullcrusher (my son Nathan’s suggestion), when, at this time, the skull most in danger from me is my own. Meanwhile, the trainers are calling me Bambi.

And like the wobbly deer of the movie, this skating fawn falls down. A lot. And you know what I am learning? It doesn’t hurt as much as I thought it would. All those pads really… well… pad! OK, sometimes it hurts a little.

I had a decent practice last night. I mean, decent for me. I didn’t fall while taking laps around the track. They were stilted, clumsy laps, but upright ones. I am learning the derby squat, which helps center my gravity and makes my thighs burn. I am learning how to recover when I lose my balance. The trick? Sit down into the fall.

The one thing I did that I believe helped me the most? I didn’t think so much about falling. I concentrated on keeping my knees bent and my elbows in. I didn’t worry about stumbling over my skates. I trusted the protective pads strapped to every part of my body that bends, if not quite trusting my own legs.

I guess the lesson I learned here is: Prepare for the fall, then put your faith in the padding. Most of the time, the padding helps. When it doesn’t, you end up with some pretty bad-ass, tough girl rink rash.

Battle scars are always cool. They show the world that you survived.

I need to work on crossovers. Those are the key to getting around an oval track with any speed or stability. I will admit, I’m a little afraid of them. So here is my next life lesson I need to tackle: If you are afraid to try something new because you are afraid of looking like a jackass, you are kind of being a jackass. I need to muster the courage to try the crossover. I need to prepare for the fall, then not think about it.

I want to be brave and bravery requires risk. In fact, the only time you can actually be brave is when there is risk. Otherwise, there is no need to be brave at all.