The season in pictures...

Click the flyers to see photos taken of all our home events in the past season,  A big thank you goes out to David at Jacksonville.com, as well as Al (Flickr pics) and Josh (Photobucket), for capturing countless jams, blocks, and hits for us to treasure--or feel the pain from--forever!

...and in video.

With referee Wang wearing a camera on his helmet, and Standby at a safe distance, there's plenty of footage to roll.

Jacksonville faces Florida's finest

On Presidents' Day, the founding foremothers of Florida roller derby packed the floor of the Sweetbay Entertainment Hall at Tampa's Florida State Fair for Sunshine Skate 2008.  After 8 hours of continuous play among Florida's best teams, a grueling 60 minute final bout saw the Tampa Tantrums defeat Tallahassee's Capital Punishment for the championship.

The New Jax City Rollers of the Jacksonville RollerGirls started off the day by facing last season's rival Tallahassee in a 20 minute bout, then later, racking up the points skating against Ft. Myers.  With the third highest cumulative score in the first round of play, Jacksonville rolled into contention for the state title.  But the NJCR team was down one skater, as Kat von Skratchyereyesout broke her ankle in an horrific moment for everyone.  Unfortunately, it was the first of several injuries in the tournament, as hard competition, and later, exhaustion set in.

In the next round, Jacksonville met up with Tallahassee again, and was finally eliminated by the Molly Roger Rollergirls, who took third place.  Jacksonville's final bout with the Molly Rogers was one of the most exciting matchups of the day, as the lead changed with almost every other jam.  But in the final minute of play, fate struck the Molly Roger team as well, with MC Jammer cracking her leg.  During the long timeout, the New Jax City Rollers met with the Molly Roger leadership and decided that with both teams physically and emotionally drained, and Jacksonville facing a lead that was most likely insurmountable in the remaining time, the NJCR would concede the bout.  When the clock started for the final time, competitors from both teams took the track and skated around to a standing ovation from the audience.  If ever a moment defined the sisterly spirit of roller derby, this was it.

Thanks to Al in Tallahassee for sharing these pictures.

While stopping outside of Duval County to fuel the bus, I got the chance to talk to some of the other girls at length, mostly because it took about 20 minutes for the bus driver’s gas card to go through (you would think at $4 per gallon here, the credit card machine would be tip-top). Anyway, as I mentioned before these girls are not by any means typical. They're the very definition of the modern woman: smart, independent, strong yet still feminine. But probably what strikes me most is how much at ease I am around them. Usually with a majority of women some form of introduction is needed, yet with the rollergirls they can start up conversations with you without any apprehension. What also greatly changed my perception of these women was how seriously they take their sport. I boarded the bus expecting to be in the midst of a rowdy bunch, yet the whole ride was surprisingly mellow. Some girls talked, others read books, took a nap, or discussed the night’s strategy.

As we approached the North Florida Fairgrounds, Nuke began reviewing strategy, the roster, and went over the important points everyone needed to keep in mind, as Jacksonville was going into this bout short-handed. As I talked to Nuke on the way into the venue I was surprised to find the girls also have a recommended diet to perform at peak efficiency. Once inside the exhibition hall, all the girls had their game faces on. This too gave me a new respect for them. I had not seen focus like this since my high school wrestling days--there was no goofing around, no jokes, only focusing on the bout and the part each of them had to play in the night’s events. This is where my friend Nicole becomes Nuke, and the other girls become the persona of their derby girl names.

Now I’ve never been a big sports enthusiast. Even as a wrestler in high school I never got into the game or discussed how the match went--I came, I saw, I conquered, and I went home to watch South Park, all the while not thinking about the match. Same with football and basketball, I kept up enough to follow the conversation but generally wasn’t interested if Kobe kicked a hole in one! Yet this isn’t the case with roller derby. Even before I understood how the scoring worked, I enjoyed the game and the atmosphere around it. This isn’t a testosterone-fueled crowd of fat men with team colors painted on them, screaming at players and refs while spilling their beer and nachos all over the place, where acknowledging the opposing teams plays is a death sentence…These are average people who want to see a game that’s as much about skill as it is a bit of theatre. It has something for everybody: skill, violence, burlesque, and shiny pants. As a man with A.D.D. each of these things on their own keeps my eyes glued to the action. So whether you come to see a bout for the sport, or to see beautiful women knock each other into the wall, a good time will be had.

During warm-ups, I help the girls by writing their player numbers on their arms, getting water, food, or protein powder (I told you they don’t mess around). The girls are numbered, their skates are adjusted, they skate the floor, noting where the cracks and divots are. They talk casually with Capital Punishment, the opposing team, completely at ease until they go down the aisle to be introduced by the announcer. I sit next to my friend from the bus and listen to the announcer work the crowd into a frenzy. This is where the girls become the persona of their derby names: normal girls who are meek in life become badass athletes ready to knock you down and laugh at your tears! As the girls roll out onto the floor they twirl around baby dolls over their heads, or blow voodoo dust on you, or come at you with a large mallet, or have a man in a Guy Fawkes mask hand them roses. Like I said, a bit of theatre.  God, I love this sport!

As the announcer explains the rules he calls one of the Tallahassee rollergirls out to the center of the floor, then a man comes behind her assuming the position for a marriage proposal. This man in a single act has made himself and his fiancée the most admired and envied couple in the room personifying the unique nature of the sport--just because they can kick your ass doesn’t mean they stop being women.

Finally, the game begins and almost at the start girls are being slammed into the “Walls of Pain,” appropriately named as two walls in the exhibition hall run within inches of the edge of the track. As I watch the carnage unfold I start a conversation with a local Tallahassee woman named Jane. We discuss the great moves of the players, where improvement is needed, and the strengths of both teams, thus reinforcing the culture of the game: Fellow fans are approachable, and you can talk about both teams for love of the sport without being teased or heckled yourself.

In the end, Tallahassee proves that the beating they gave us in Jacksonville days before wasn’t a fluke. Despite great playing by our girls, we are outmatched by the other team.

But they put up a real fight. Suffering from fractured ankles and dislocated shoulders, they are twisted, pulled, and slammed, proving that this sport is not for the timid, but they never ease up or give the other team an inch without fighting for it. The victory is taken and handshakes given. Jacksonville embodies what it means to be true athletes, by showing significant improvement even with the odds against them.

As the girls take off their gear and board the bus, I am talking with Bola--the husband of Novocaine--and I come to find out they live in the same subdivision I do…and so does cameraman Standby (six degrees of roller derby, there are no coincidences)! I give cigarettes and water to any of the girls who ask without question, as every one of these girls has earned my respect tonight.

And now, we party. Remember that I mentioned the untrue stereotype of roller girls being hard drinking, foul mouthed hellions that can’t pass as ladies? That is the case most of the time. They are ladies but they can get a party going in no time at all. On the way to the bar I start on a bottle of Jameson whiskey, in preparation for an event that I can only describe as “straight up off the hizzy!” Some of the girls join me in drinking liquor as we head to the bar. We are greeted by the Tallahassee team with open arms and cold drinks. We start conversations with the girls talking about the game, past games they’ve played, and some general drinking stories. I’m joined by my best friend, currently living in Tallahassee, who introduces me to some of the Tallahassee girls.

It’s in this environment that what I love most about the culture of the game comes out. You have a drink with girls on the opposite team who only a few hours ago were carrying out each other’s destruction, but now they are all friends, drinking, laughing, and having a good time. Although I could go on describing what happened there, these are events that you have to attend to truly appreciate. Needless to say, even being the one of the only guys not on staff for the roller girls, they never leave you left out, and gladly invite you to join them, asking only you leave drama at the door.

As the night wore on we had to get back onto the bus to head back to our beloved Duval. But for those whom have never been to Tallahassee I can only describe the area as “hilly.” This point was proven when our bus got stuck on the road coming down a hill, lifting one of the rear wheels off the ground. We all agree that this bus is cursed. After a few poorly conceived ideas to free the bus (fueled by exhaustion and PBR), the Tallahassee girls called us a tow truck and within the hour our cursed bus was free.

But the fun didn’t end there, as we stopped at a rest area and I personally piggy backed a rollergirl with a fractured ankle into the restroom. Chivalry is not dead! The bus let out its last resistance by beeping that the emergency exit was open. So, after closing all the emergency exits—repeatedly--we were finally on our way home at the hour of 3:00. At this point the girls are either stink drunk, or getting sleep to go to work that day. I joined the sleepers. At 5:00 on Sunday morning, the bus returns to the Mandarin Skate Station, and we hectically grab our things and head to our cars, trying to beat the sun home.

Half past dead I get into my bed, forgoing taking off my shoes, clothes, and even contacts, and say goodnight to my Nightmare Before Christmas pillow cover. Before I drift into what I can only describe as a light coma, I think about my day--how it started off as me being loosely associated with the Jacksonville RollerGirls, to building a small foundation among them. And as I drift asleep smelling of sweat, smoke, and peaches, I hear the reverberating sound that started and ended my 15-hour trip with these goddesses of the millennium: “Duuuuuuval!”

Tim with Tallahassee's penalty mistress Booty Crocker