Roller Derby with the Denver Roller Dolls : Colorado Music, Arts, and Outdoors : Cairn

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Dirty Habits

Servicing the Skaters

Written by Furious George

The roof of Denver’s Fillmore Auditorium is leaking, creating massive water puddles on the hardwood floor. Normally, this wouldn’t concern me, but since I’m a pit crew member for the Denver Roller Dolls roller derby league, it’s now my No. 1 worry. In a few minutes, the skaters will take to the floor for a league bout between the Green Barrettes and Bad Apples. If this isn’t cleaned up, a lot of them will hit the deck hard, with a good chance they’ll take out a couple of innocent spectators as they fly off the track.

“Hey Furious!” shouts Ice Pick, the unflappable pit crew chief. Like French Foreign Legion soldiers, none of us go by our real names, and I’m Furious George.
Ice continues, “Check out the leak on the other side of the track.” I’ve got the coolest job, I’ve been told, because I get to be in the middle of the action and hang out with all these women. Watching the brown water spew out of the ceiling, I’m not feeling the coolness factor right now.

The skaters, inspecting their gear on the sidelines, include Enya Biznass, Primal Rage, and Fonda Pain. Yeah, these names suggest some sort of unholy alliance between the not-too-disparate worlds of adult film and pro wrestling. Yet the truth is that each of these skaters is invested in what they do as much as any other athlete. This dedication is especially remarkable, as the Dolls aren’t compensated to skate and many pay their expenses out of pocket.

Furthermore, the Dolls balance long hours of training and competition with family and work obligations. They could easily be one of your coworkers, holding down such everyday jobs as pharmaceutical rep, writer or restaurant manager. But that isn’t to say that there aren’t a few outsized characters in this milieu.

Take Dump Truck, one of the announcers. He’s a big guy, over six-feet-tall with a Mohawk, tattooed belly, and a gravelly growl somewhere between that of Dog Chapman and Jesse Ventura. Tonight, he’s forgone his usual uniform, a cop-style beige shirt and matching Reno 911-issue short shorts for a tight pink half-top color-coordinated with a frilly adult diaper.

Bent down to clean off the track, I look up to see a particular part of Dump Truck’s diaper-clad anatomy thrusting towards my face. In the private sector, I could file a workplace harassment suit and retire on the inevitable judgment in my favor. Tonight, it’s just par for the course. He growls, “I couldn’t resist.”

Given Dump Truck’s over-the-top antics and the sport’s inherent retro kitchiness, it’s unsurprising that one of the most frequent questions I’m asked is whether the whole thing is faked.

It’s not, and the bouts are raw and unscripted, with a degree of randomness uncommon in other sports. Injuries happen, although most skate away from their falls and collisions. But once I had to help a skater find part of her tooth, and occasionally the medic needs to provide more than ice and a bandage.

Other challenges include toe brakes separating from a skate at an inopportune time or a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon spilling on the track, creating an oil-slick like hazard. Since pit crew members are the ones responding to these crises, our job description involves being part janitor, part mechanic, and part valet.

The singing of the National Anthem by Dump Truck’s sister is a few minutes away. Mercifully, the rain relents and the water leaking from the ceiling dwindles to a few drops, and then nothing. I head back towards the benches. Tonight, I’ve been assigned to help out the red and black-clad Bad Apples squad, who’s going up against the other team in the league, the military-themed Green Barrettes.

Before the night’s competition begins in earnest, my next task is to swipe an alcohol-soaked rag across the skaters’ wheels to remove dirt and ensure they move around the track as quickly as possible. As the first whistle signaling the start of the bout blows, I know I’ve done all I can do to support the Apples in having a good bout.

Given their dedication and sacrifices, it’s the least I can do.

Photos courtesy of Colorado Women's Roller Derby Inc. and DanielK Photography

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