By Dave Dyer

Staff Writer

Today I’m wicked, wicked sore. Wicked.

I am a day removed from participating in a roller derby practice with the women of the Maine Roller Derby league, thinking I would just roller blade around a track a few times, maybe bump around a bit with some of the skaters and call it a day.

Instead, I have a stiff back, an aching knee and sore hands from falling down so many times.

The Port Authorities and Calamity Janes, two teams that make up the league, were gracious enough to allow me the opportunity to participate in drills as well as do a little scrimmaging. My contact for the league was “Killer Quick,” a.k.a. Maureen Wissman, who advised me to bring skates, a helmet, elbow and kneepads, as well as wrist guards. I would also need to sign a waiver, saying the league would not be responsible for any injuries that I may receive as part of the practice.

I arrived to the Portland Expo, where both teams practiced Monday, bringing roller blades, and a mouthguard I had just purchased from Olympia Sports. I was unable to find a helmet, so I brought my old catcher’s mask from my glory days as a member of the Massabesic Mustangs baseball team. In a moment that now almost seems like karma, the last song I listened to on the radio in my car before entering the building was “King of Pain,” by the Police.

One of the first people I ran into was Wissman, who explained the history of Maine Roller Derby. She said the league first started in March 2006. The Port Authorities are known as the “All-Star” team, comprised of experienced roller derby skaters. The team is nationally ranked in the Women’s Flat Track Derby Association (WFTDA).

Wissman said the Calamity Janes are the league’s “B team,” which is not part of the WFTDA but still have bouts against teams from other leagues. Wissman said the Janes are mostly made up of rookie skaters. 

Wissman then explained roller derby rules. Two teams skate around an oval shaped track, with both teams having four “blockers” pave a way for their “jammers,” to move through. The first jammer to get through the group of blockers is then considered the lead jammer. The goal of the lead jammer is to once again pass as many of the other team’s blockers as she can, because each passed blocker counts as a point. It is the goal of the blockers to stop the jammer from passing.

She said the sport can also appeal to men.

“Most guys are like, ‘Oh, wow that’s cool,’” Wissman said. “It’s sexy because we work hard.”

Wissman said the team trains up to nine hours a week. She said members of the team come from varied backgrounds, many members in their low to mid-thirties, many of them moms.

Gretchen Earle is one of the newer members of the league. She made the team after going through tryouts during the fall, which consisted of endurance workouts and interviews. She said she finally made the team in December after four rounds of cuts.

“It’s a great team,” Earle said. “It’s a group of really amazing women. We all share this passion for this great sport.”

Earle, a guidance counselor at Cape Elizabeth Middle School, said she was apprehensive to let students and teachers in on her new hobby.

“I was a little nervous at first,” Earle said. “But after finding out the terms of what [the teams] represent, I’m proud. The staff members have been on board with it.”

Earle is in the process of finding her “skating name,” as all skaters are required to have a registered name that no one else can have. She said her original name was approved, but another skater had a similar name. Earle said she is currently thinking about using the name “Alle Gasher.”

Other unique names in the league include A-Block, Olive Spankings, Miss Creant, Lois Blow and Punchy O’Guts. During the practice, all of the skaters referred to each other by their skater names, and not their actual names.

While men are not allowed to participate, they can serve as referees. Three referees, known as Owen Spankings, T-Ref and Max Retribution were at practice, and each explained they joined the league because their partner was a member of the team.

“My wife came home one day, all excited,” Retribution said. “I didn’t think [the league] was going to work. Here we are three years later.”

Spankings said referees pay attention to the contact the skaters make. Bumping is allowed, but pushing and shoving and heavy contact can call for a penalty. He said he also watches for skaters trying to “cut,” or skate outside the boundaries.

“It’s a lot to watch,” he said.

Spankings said it took a year for him to perfect being a referee, requiring him to practice twice week.

After the formal introduction, I joined in some drills. I first tried to keep up just skating around the track. This was an immediate failure, as my lack of skating skills – before Monday I haven’t skated in a decade – slowed me down from the rest of the group. After being passed by the entire group on more than one occasion and nearly tumbling over the group at one point, I decided to skate around on the outside, where it was safer.

I tried my hand at a couple of drills, including making a quick turn around to skate in the opposite direction from where I started. I succeeded on my first attempt, filling me with false confidence. Unfortunately, continued attempts only caused me to fall repeatedly.

After an hour (and an already aching lower back from skating,) it was time to scrimmage. I asked if I could skate along as well, to get an idea of the physicality of the sport, however, I was told I would get hurt if I participated in the full speed scrimmage. Instead, I was told I could take part in a slowed down version of the scrimmage later on. With that, I took up an all too familiar spot – the bench.

A half-hour later, it was finally my chance. I was picked to be a jammer and while waiting to hear the whistle blow, I was becoming a bit nervous of what I had gotten myself into. My only thoughts were to skate fast, and not injure anyone.

The first time around the track was a horrible failure. As I tried to make my way through the blockers, I was immediately nudged and I fell over. I made sure I fell correctly, with my knees and elbows on the ground with my body in a ball. I sprinted around again, only to be bumped off again. 

Even though I was only on the track for two minutes, my body felt like it had gone a couple rounds with Muhammed Ali. As I sat on the bench, I was gasping for air. Looking to my left and right, many of the skaters didn’t seem phased.

I asked the “Mom Bomb” if skaters worked out during the week to keep in shape, she informed me that she was actually a smoker.

‘Great,’ I thought. I truly needed to get back in the gym.

I tried one more time on the track, partly because I wanted to prove to myself that I haven’t fallen as an athlete as much as it seemed, and partly to prove my manhood. As I skated around, I noticed some of the skaters were cheering for me, possibly because they felt bad.

Regardless, the second try was just as bad as the first. I was immediately gasping for air about 30 seconds in, and after my first fall, I just wanted to stay down. When the whistle blew to stop skating, I was the happiest man on the planet.

After finally catching my breath on the bench five minutes later, I thanked everyone for allowing me to spend a practice with them, and officially announced my retirement from roller derby. I needed to leave, as they still had one more hour of endurance training that I was in no shape to stick around for.

I left the practice with aches, pains, and newfound respect for a group of ladies who take toughness to a whole new level.

Staff writer Dave Dyer can be reached at 282-4337, ext. 219.