The Thousands

So you wanna be a roller girl? Better get training now!

Watch out Grimy Knickers, outta my way Brick Shithouse! Coconut Rough, I got you in my sights. Three weeks of derby initiation involving high speed stacks, endurance tests and one sore butt would give anyone a potty mouth. Each week brings new levels of pain and blood, sweat and tears (it’s the new joy) but also a great appreciation for this league of skating ladies.

Every wannabe derby girl must pass the inevitable skills test and as I took my number and stuck it on my helmet, I wondered if the primary school crossover and weaving skills honed during tennis court practice sessions will stand up against former speed skaters and ice hockey players.

In short, they don’t. As we, the uncooked meat, are led outside, the smell of lady sweat forms a pheromone cocktail of fear. One by one, each girl goes forward to learn her fate. When my time comes, I’m informed by Pixie Pincher and Slave Driver that this year will not be my derby debut. All that little voice inside could muster up was a squeakey, ‘Really?’. Not derby tough at all.

You’ve got to earn the derby stripes so if you want to go hard then get training at Blackwood, Ingle Farm or St Clair. The next Roller Derby season starts next year, so you better put on your training skates now because, deep down, there’s a little bit of derby girl in all of us.