The ambulance. I can’t believe I almost forgot to mention the ambulance in Part 1.
—
It was white with blue trim and emergency yellow lettering, and was parked directly outside the double-doors at Galaxy Roller Rink on that hot, humid day in July 2012. Idly waiting for some poor soul who fell wrong or who was blocked down so hard that she couldn’t get up off the floor without assistance from teammates or medical personnel working the bout. That ambulance was the first thing I saw before I laid eyes on today’s iteration of Roller Derby, and before I even watched a single jam be played, that boxy white truck set the tone that this sport is no novelty.
Bearing that in mind, although I had a bright glimmer in my eye after watching my friend Kristin’s bout that night, I also had tremendous doubts about my ability to roller skate at the level I’d just witnessed. Sure, I dabbled in roller hockey in my early teens and until we were old enough to drive, my friends and I used roller-blades as our primary form of transportation throughout our small town of Vernon, Connecticut (we may have been inspired by the characters in Hackers, who deftly navigated the streets of NYC on inline skates throughout the movie).
This adolescent skating experience proved valuable in June 1995, when my friend and marching band-mate Cheryl Vaillancourt lost a hard-fought battle with Leukemia at the age of seventeen. Before Cheryl passed, one of her best friends (and my marching band-mate) Jason Sulliman, organized a fundraiser to assist Cheryl’s family with the high costs of treatment. A long-distance runner, Jason meticulously planned a 21-day, 780-mile run that took him from Connecticut to Canada, then back again.
I’m getting teary-eyed thinking about this as I type, because Cheryl passed three days before Jason’s run was scheduled to kick off. It really hit me hard as she was the first friend I ever lost, and this first lesson in mortality left me feeling an unexpected and deep yearning for some sort of post-funeral closure. Figuring he could use the support, and knowing I needed to do something, I asked if I could join Jason on his first leg of the run. Since I had zero experience or endurance for long distance running, I asked if I could roller-blade alongside him. He excitedly agreed, and we met early the following morning.
That day turned out to be one of the most challenging and memorable days of my life. We logged about forty miles, embarking from the northern border of Connecticut and making it almost entirely through the state of Massachusetts in a single day. It was hot and sunny, and Jason’s mental and physical fortitude were nothing short of inspiring to me. We kept each other pushing through exhausted legs and blistered feet, hunger pangs and dehydration. Every time I wanted to quit, I pictured Cheryl’s infectious smile and somehow felt lighter and faster. It was a totally spiritual experience and helped me find peace in Cheryl’s passing.
It’s amazing how the universe works, because I had totally forgotten the feeling of freedom and zen that accompanies being on skates until I was introduced to Roller Derby, and this time it came in the form of another memorial skate. See, Kernel’s father Ed Kearns passed away in March 2012 and she organized an open skate in his honor at Roller Magic skating rink in Waterbury, CT on July 29th, 2012. Kernel invited me to attend, saying it would be a great opportunity to pay tribute to her often Hawaiian shirt-clad dad while seeing if I could get around on eight wheels in a stress-free environment. She also said it would be a great chance to meet some of the members of the CT Death Quads men’s Roller Derby team, who she assured me were a “great group of dudes” (they really are).
Upon my arrival at Roller Magic (it’s SO magical!), I laced up a pair of uncomfortable and totally un-stylish brown and orange rental skates, and headed out onto the crowded wooden skating floor. Within a few rotations, I was completely hooked. My balance was only a little shaky, and soon cross-over steps in turns came back. Before I knew it, my legs were burning and I was drenched with sweat. I was also grinning uncontrollably! I was having such a great time, I didn’t notice the hot spot forming on my heel that eventually became one of the biggest blisters I have ever had.
Through the course of the Ed Kearns Memorial Skate, I was introduced to a couple of Death Quads including Hit Happens #2. Hit easily has one of my favorite Roller Derby name/number combinations, and despite his dauntingly solid 6’ 5,” 240lb frame, he was extremely personable and quick to invite me to attend the next team practice so I could get a feel for men’s Roller Derby. I was hesitant to accept, since I had only seen a women’s bout one week prior and still wasn’t quite sure I could hang with guys his size who obviously had superior skating skills, as well as experience in the full-contact arena. I asked if there was any way I could watch a men’s bout first, in order to get a feel for the game play.
As luck—or the universe—would have it, the Death Quads were set to square off in an all-men’s bout against Pioneer Valley Roller Derby’s Dirty Dozen in Easthampton, Massachusetts on August 4, 2012.
I couldn’t wait to check out my first live men’s Roller Derby bout.
Stay tuned for Part III when Marc checks out his first men’s derby bout, attends his first practice, and finds his roller derby identity. Click here for part one in the series.
