Learning to Fall Without Fear

Learning to Fall Without Fear:

The Genesis and Evolution of Vette City Roller Derby

By Tabitha Waggoner

Sarah Richardson tied on her roller skates, put her lime green helmet on her head, clicked the chinstrap and slid on her wrist guards and kneepads. Last, she stuck her purple mouth guard inside her mouth. Now, if she got sacked during a two-minute jam or was tripped in practice, there was nothing to fear. She shuffled across the carpet and glided out onto the skating rink.

“I probably would’ve had at least three concussions by now if I didn’t wear a helmet,” she said.  Eager to share a story, Richardson recalled how she once tripped another player accidentally causing, the young woman’s mouth to bleed since she wasn’t wearing a mouth guard. Richardson apologized to the young woman, but knew the loss of blood wasn’t really her own fault.

“It was stupid not to wear a mouth guard,” she said.

Richardson, a 21-year-old zoology major from Chattanooga, Tenn., started practicing with the Vette City Vixens Roller Derby League last fall at the Skate Box in Bowling Green. When she was young, she watched a documentary about roller derby on the History Channel. Since then, Richardson has wanted to be a derby girl.

“It’s something I’ve always wanted to do,” she said.

“I’ve just gotta at least go try,” she said to herself. Although Richardson was afraid of falling, it didn’t stop her from giving the Vixens a try.

Jenni Johnson—known to her teammates as “Geronimo Jenny,” came up with the idea of having a roller derby team in Bowling Green. She had attended a few bouts in Nashville and told some of her skating friends about it in July 2009. After a few meetings—the first one in a bar, Johnson said—about 40 women were interested or involved with the team. They only need 14 qualified women to make an active roster, according to the Women’s Flat Track Derby Association rules. Each “derby girl” must pass a basic skills test and a written test before they can become official derby girls. Eventually, the Vette City Vixens became such a large team they decided to split into two teams—a team for more experienced players and a team for less-experienced players, said “Moan Holladay,” or Dawn Wyant, one of the non-skating officials. The “A team” is the Vette City Vixens and the “B” team is the Bowling Green Hot Brods. Meredith Tooley, “Calamity Jam,” is another non-skating official. Their job is to keep track of penalties, the score and the time, along with other responsibilities. Each teammate pays dues of $20 a month, which rents out the Skate Box (formerly the longtime Greenwood Skate Center) on Three Springs Road in Bowling Green.

In roller derby, a “bout” is made up of two 30-minute periods with a 15 minute halftime. Rotations of sets of eight girls make up a “pack” of defenders, four from each team. The jammer’s job is to break through the opposing team. Her teammates do their best to help her during the two-minute jam, whether it is whipping the other team out of the way, blocking them or knocking them down. Every time she can get by an enemy, a point is given to her team.

“In other words, it’s offense and defense at the same time,” Wyant said. The object of the game is to get the jammer through the pack as many times as possible during each jam, Richardson said. “You have to get through the pack while they’re trying to knock you down,” she said.

The team still has not had a WFTDA official bout, but have participated in exhibitions and scrimmages, some of which have been in Nashville or Huntsville, Ala. In Huntsville, the team participated in a charity fundraiser event for soldiers. The roller derby teams in Indiana and Tennessee have been very helpful to the Vixens and the Brods, allowing them to scrimmage often, she said.

“They wooped our butts bad,” Richardson said of the Huntsville game. But, “we are getting better; every team starts out that way,” she said.

For a roller derby team, the Vixens and Brods are small.

“I’m considered to be petite,” she said incredulously. (Richardson is 5’2 with a medium build.)  Almost immediately during the first jam, Richardson crashed to the floor. She was afraid to try to block her opponent because she was so much bigger than Richardson.

“People who were watching told me that my head bounced six inches off the ground,” she said. Richardson was rattled the rest of the game, but she made it through. She thanks her helmet for that, once again.

“Late Night Lyle,” Lyle Smith, is the announcer for the team. “It’s my job to raise the excitement of the crowd and help them to understand the game,” he said. As for a bout, “there’s nothing quite like it.”

About 30 girls glided around the rink at the Skate Box Tuesday night. They practice there every Sunday from 5:30 to 8:30 p.m. and every Tuesday and Thursday from 8:45 to 10:45 p.m. The girls begin with basic stretching exercises, crunches, laps around the track and doing the “cobra” and the “bicycle.” The team giggled, shrieked and joked with each other and the coaches as they swam their legs through the air with skates on, employing the “bicycle” technique.

The attire worn could be considered somewhat eye-catching. One girl wore a “Vote for Pedro” t-shirt and a sticker on the back of her helmet that warned readers, DON’T BE A SOUR. She wore deep blue panties over her black leggings. Richardson, leading the pack, was clad in a purple tank top, belt, and matching shorts.

The team talked among themselves as they stretched and skated on and off the rink.

“She just threw her fucking helmet at me!” One teammate shrieked, half laughing, half incredulous. “Randi, I’m so excited about your spa party!” another girl called out to her friend, who replied, “I know! Anyone can come to it!”

Another young woman sped by coach Tucker Davis. Her skate thwacked his, causing him to trip and clank onto the floor. She skated on and looked back a little nervously. But Davis stood up quickly, and teased her about it. Davis, a native of Winchester, did not have much skating experience before he was coach, but he learned the sport quickly. He said he was asked to co-coach the team by coach Rink Ragan. Ragan is having to take a break from coaching the team because of job responsibilities, Richardson said.

Sometimes the coaches give pep talks, like on Tuesday night.

“I want everybody to visualize what it was like your first day here and transfer that to what it is today—Vette City Roller Derby,” Coach Rink Ragan told his team.

“I want you to think about your fears—whether it was the fear of getting hit—of not measuring up—I know in my life I have fears quite a bit. Be positive. Don’t sell yourself or your teammates short. Know your abilities and your limitations.”

Ragan encouraged them to set a goal for themselves and to “cast those fears aside; walk through them. There are fears—not only in skating, but in every day life. Each skater has her own fear.”

The rink was silent as Ragan talked. The team was apparently concentrating. Finally, Ragan said, “I’m so proud of ya’ll.”

Then he became businesslike.

“Okay guys, triceps time!” A few skaters groaned. “Pushups, pushups,” the coaches called out. The team began to do push-ups with skates on.

Watching nearby was Caitlin Richard, who is originally from Nashville. Richard was at practice to cheer on her teammates, even though she was still getting over a cold. One of the more experienced skaters on the team, Richard grew up skating once a week. Like Richardson, she was unfamiliar with roller derby, but she decided to try it and see if she’d like it.

She’s been a member of the Vixens since September 2009.  Richard has watched a lot of “fresh meat” (new roller derby girls) come in throughout the past six months or so. “There’s been so many we’ve lost and replaced,” she said.

Standing with Richard was the similarly ailing Christina Pollard, a military brat who played girls’ roller hockey throughout her childhood. Pollard, a willowy young woman with short bobbed hair, glasses, and a southern drawl, said that roller derby presents her with a chance to exercise.

“I could never really find any type of workout I really enjoyed,” she said. Roller derby was her fit. Richardson agreed. The newest piece of fresh meat is Shelley Hurt, a 42-year-old Bowling Green mother of two.

“A friend of mine told me about it and I thought it would be cool,” she said. Near Hurt stood a volunteer referee, David Sullivan, known to the derby league as “High Angle Hell.” Sullivan said he is looking for seven or eight people to help him referee the Vixens and Brods.

The team lacks a home. They would like to be able to have a flat track inside a warehouse or any other large enough space to play the game and have spectators.

“We don’t have a venue spot yet,” Sullivan said. “But as soon as we do, the public will know about it.”

Sullivan pointed out his wife, skater “Ima Spankya,” or Aimee-Zapara-Sullivan. She fell down and glided back up again, one of the quickest skaters out on the rink. Her attire made her stand out. She had brown braided hair, tattoos, tights, a tank top and a pair of skeletal-like white hands on the back of her shorts, one slapping each butt cheek.

Sullivan, also a former truck driver, and Zapara-Sullivan, worked for Blue Cross Blue Shield in California. Then they decided they were tired of the California scene, so they moved to Bowling Green. Zapara-Sullivan, who is also a belly dancer, was looking for other belly dancers in the area when they discovered the roller derby league, Sullivan said.

The pack of women orbited their coaches again and again, over and over, causing wind to blow the hair of bystanders. Suddenly, the skating rink seemed very chilly.  As they zoomed past, some of the women began to appear fatigued.

But one sturdy-looking, verbal woman in green never faltered. Her name is “Knit One Kill You,” or Lauren Dowell. Her derby name refers to “knit one, pearl two,” the basic knitting technique. She is a teacher for emotionally disturbed and behaviorally challenged children. She encourages her teammates on and off the rink and hands out Vette City Vixens bumper stickers to anyone who doesn’t have one. On the square sticker is the brand, a skull with stars, that adorns the bumpers and back windshields of teammates and supporters.

Sara Beth Huston, “Sara Barracuda,” a resident of Bowling Green, attended one of the first meetings back in August. Huston, a tall 26-year-old with bleach-blond hair, said she has never been afraid of getting hurt.

“If you learn how to skate, you’ll learn how to fall,” she explained. Besides, the skaters wear so many pads that it’s hard to injure yourself seriously.

One girl in grey, blue and white, (probably “fresh meat”) began to fall down, almost always on a fast turn. Other girls moaned that their leg muscles were burning. “WOOO!” someone yelled. The whistle screamed. The Vixens and Brods coasted to a stop.

Understanding how to fall is important. Everyone needs to know how to brace themselves for a hard hit or a rough landing. Today, Richardson can give new teammates similar advice that she received not too long ago.

“Don’t fall on your butt” is among the advice Richardson gives a new.

“It’s better to fall on your cheek than on your butt,” she said. Vixens and Brods avoid falling on their tailbone. Richardson knew a girl who fell and broke her tailbone during roller derby.

Nicole Dodge, known as “Taryn Ash,” a captain, said she heard about the team through a flier and had been interested “since day one.” She attended the meeting at the bar after getting off work at Dillard’s. She laughed, recalling how overdressed she was at the meeting. Each team member has a similar story, a similar reason for joining the Vixens.

“I found my sport,” Richardson says cheerfully. “I’m not fresh meat anymore at least, but I’m still learning a lot.”

She asks her friends what they think her roller derby name should be.

“What do you think? Domino Scarvey or Bettie Rocker?”  She laughs about the idea of having the name Domino Scarvey and ponders why she might choose it.

“It’s not because I’m good at falling, but because I’m good at knocking others down.” Roller derby had become a huge stress reliever for her.

Within a few weeks, Richardson had chosen the name “Bettie Rocker.” She says that she was tired of trying to explain the name “Domino Scarvey” and that “Bettie Rocker” was a better name because everyone has heard of Betty Crocker.

When Richardson first began skating with the Vixens, she was afraid of falling. She hadn’t skated since she was 5, only roller-bladed.

“I was unsure of my feet,” she said. But Richardson got used to the feel of the earth moving under her wheels; she found older and younger women who became additional sisters and mothers to her.

“We’re just all one big family,” she said, smiling.  “We haven’t even been together for a year yet; we just get along even though we’re all from different walks of life.”

The team hopes to be admitted to WFTDA sometime in 2011, Richardson said. “I’m excited about that,” she said.

Soon, that family will be wearing team colors of silver, turquoise and black. Richardson had already chosen her number, 225 (a reference to the Radiohead song, “2+2=5”) when she decided to take a leave of absence. She hopes roller derby is in her future and said she wanted to return in June, but it didn’t work out for her to return.

“I would rather go to derby than study, but I really need to focus,” Richardson said, explaining that her grades had been falling.

“I’d like derby to be in my future,” she said. But, studying determines her future, and derby does not. It’s the fear of the unknown that causes us to make decisions that can change our lives.

Fears cannot be ignored; fears must be faced, as Ragan said. Every skater has her fear. All fears must be overcome in order to make goals—in order to score. Perhaps the sport of roller derby is just a parable of the game of life—one that we all must take part in.

© 2010 by Tabitha Naomi Waggoner.