Derby Queens

I wore leather and brought ear-plugs.  I expected a dark, smoky room.  I expected adults sitting on sticky beer-spilled seats, elbow-to-elbow and tough.  I expected swearing and loud shouting, fist-pumping and screams, but I didn’t expect what I found.  The Morristown women’s roller derby scene was charming.

Smack in the middle of Morristown proper is a large, covered, cinderblock building one story high.  It houses a roller derby rink or flat track as it’s called because it’s skated on a gym-type floor without banked sides.  The course itself is delineated by a single ½ inch rope taped onto the floor in a large oval with an island in the center.  In the center island wander various judges with clip-boards and whistles.  On the night I was there one judge was wearing candy striped socks and an apron over her skirt; another wore a pink tutu.  Out of bounds, along both ends—in their own folding chairs— sat families!  Parents, grandparents and children of all ages!  The lighting was bright, the mood was jovial and the entertainment was fast moving and fascinating.

The Jerzey Derby Brigade is two divisions of competitive skaters—varsity and JV-- comprised of area women, some of whom you would be surprised to find derby skating; some you wouldn’t.  The night of the season opener—they play April through November with summers off—the two divisions played each other.  Eighteen women took on one another in what was an educational and delightful early evening’s entertainment.   Captains Doom Hilda and Easthell Getty led off the game at 7pm sharp with stars on their helmets, which meant they were the jammers.  As such, they were saddled with the mission of skating through the pack then lapping as often as possible without being bulied to the ground or nudged out of bounds.  They wore fishnets and knee-pads with satin shorts and tight tops.  The captains were supported by co-captains Baked Beanz and Bruta Lee and flanked by team members in braids and pig-tails with and names like Anita Chainsaw, Inna Propriate, Assault Shaker and River Slam.  One of the girls had a peplum of lime green feathers along her backside and tattoos were too numerous to count.

As wacky as their outfits were, these girls wanted to win.  I watched coaches Beast Witherspoon and Syd Deuce call plays from the sidelines and when players were occasionally fouled, the offenders skated over to a row of elementary school-sized chairs designated the penalty box.  Parents, friends, and the children of these rough and rowdy women called out “Go Mommy!” from laps.  When the pizza order arrived-- slices sold for two bucks, as well as soda, chips and Derby Brigade T-shirts. 

One of the guys on the sidelines was particularly vocal, supporting one of the more wily skaters as she circled gracefully, earning points for her team.

“Do you know her?” I asked.

“That’s my girlfriend,” he beamed.

“Awesome.  What does she do when she’s not skating?”

“She teaches fifth grade.”

Of course she does, I thought.  Talk about blowing off a little steam.  I learned that the women are mostly between 20 and 40 years old, but that the oldest skater is in her late fifties.  I learned that there is an attorney, a government worker and a librarian among other 9-5 working-women and that most of them are moms.  I learned that his girlfriend Maggy Kyllanfall loves the game, which was clear to me by her steely focus and enthusiasm on the track.  I would have awarded her the MVP award.  He was clearly proud. 

He taught me that there’s no elbowing in the game and no pushing from behind.  The blockers can’t trip, kick or grab-- all things the delightful color commentators had said as they bandied on mics over a background of energetic rock music.  They did a terrific job of explaining the game to the audience every step of the way.  Their banter was playful and informative and I learned more than I ever could have imagined.  Then, at halftime, referees William Skatespeare, Hannibal Hector and Stud Muffin blew their whistles, the skaters cleared the rink and we readied ourselves for the half-time show.

This show was cast by what appeared to be the entire roster of dancers enrolled at the Peter Smith School of Irish Dance, established in 1956.  Out they pranced, dancer after dancer, resplendent in parade-worthy sequins and the curliest, bounciest hair you ever did see.  They high-kicked and hot-stepped to the friendly trill of accordions and Irish pipes and the smile never left my face.  Each class dazzled us with their fancy footwork and pristine choreography.  Each dancer’s costume was more colorful than the last.  The audience was roused to clap along and we did so, happily transported to our own Brigadoon, nestled in the middle of Morristown, during a women’s roller derby match; only in New Jersey. 

The second half of the derby concluded with the winners taking a victory lap and receiving hugs and flowers from their families.  By 8:30pm they were pulling up the tape on the floor as folks folded up their chairs and took little ones by the hand.  I folded my programs for the Jerzey Derby Brigade and Irish dancing.  Both were recruiting new talent and both seemed like a lot of fun, though tons of hard work and a big time commitment.  I considered this then concluded: Why choose when I can have both?  You bet I’ll be back.  Oh, I will.