New leagues put modern-day spin on roller derby
Players preserve campiness, add to athleticism
LOS ANGELES - The Hollywood-adjacent area of Historic Filipinotown may be becoming more hip, but on a recent Saturday night, the only sound is the purr of the cars passing overhead on the freeway; the only action is an old man pushing a shopping cart, a child's pinwheel stuck in the end of his bedroll.
This is the place, but there is no sign. It's a dingy warehouse where they used to manufacture ice cream cones; now it's choked with graffiti and encircled with shredded tarps. Step inside, though, and there's little question it's the right spot. The first thing visitors see is a glorious, mirrored disco ball hanging from the rafters, in the shape of a roller skate.
The crowd, in overalls and bustiers, some with purple hair, some with no hair at all, is feverish. It's so loud you can barely hear yourself drink. One woman is in a full Mardi Gras headdress; her date is wearing a Cookie Monster costume. The VIP section is cordoned off with yellow police tape.
The heroes here are all women. Their uniforms are ripped stockings and knee socks. Their names are Eva Destruction and Tara Armov. Their passion is roller derby, which - long after being swept into the dustbin of kitsch, alongside Evel Knievel and that movie where Clint Eastwood is pals with an orangutan - is back.
Riding a national resurgence, the L.A. Derby Dolls have been building momentum since holding their first event in 2004. The league has held its events on a roof in Chinatown and inside a mall in Little Tokyo but exploded in popularity after moving into this warehouse, northwest of downtown Los Angeles, in October.
The move doubled the crowd capacity to about 1,700, and every event held here since - there is a match every month or so - has sold out, said one of the founders, league president Rebecca "Demolicious" Ninburg.
"At some point it's like: Who wants to go watch a bunch of millionaires? The crowd can relate to us," said Else "Evil E" Duff, 38, who recently became the match announcer after breaking her ankle. "Tomorrow, all these girls will be back here cleaning up. When you put your heart and soul into something, it shows."
The Dolls are one of the best-known of the 275 or so roller derby leagues that have sprung up in the past few years.
Ninburg, 38, recently quit her job as a film industry sculptor and became the league's only full-time employee. Most of the athletes - about 60 women on four teams, with another 60 waiting in the wings, known as "fresh meat" - pay dues to participate. Several point, with considerable pride, to the spot where their blood stained the banked Masonite track that they helped build from scratch.
The athletes are required to carry their own insurance.
Roller derby is basically a race carried out on an oval track; two "jammers" try to outpace each other while fighting through a rolling, hip-checking scrum of "blockers." Top skaters can reach speeds topping 30 miles per hour and can do a lap in five seconds.
The result, according to chiropractor Rick Fox, a faculty member at the Southern California University of Health Sciences in Whittier and the league doctor: "Broken bones. Gashes. Concussions. Dislocated shoulders. Blown-out knees."
Back in the day, roller derby was little more than a show, with predetermined soap opera plots akin to professional wrestling. Today's version still comes with the nutty outfits and stage persona, but participants are hard-core athletes.
Partly as a result, today's players are an unusual blend of feminism and punk, raw strength and campy theater. It is a game of strategy, too, and many of the over-the-top track characters belie the athletes' meek and highly accomplished real lives.
At the end of another practice, Sheila "Haught Wheels" Noonen, 31, took off her helmet. She had just spent hours racing around the track, maneuvering through blockers and checking people into the rails. A high school teacher, she was heading home that night to continue writing a curriculum.
"This," she said with a smile, "is just a very, very good use of one's time." 