How Derby Taught Me My Alignment Was Out Of Whack

Submitted Anonymously

So I drive a beater, I call her Lucille. I started driving this beat-down beauty at first to annoy and embarrass those that love me dearly, my family. It was part of my birthright to make my family
second guess their convictions, and squirm in reaction to the decisions I made in my life. Lucille was just another loving f-u to them and to anyone else that bought into the product that I just could not consume. I loved her for that.

I lived three states away and they still cringed with the thought that a women my age, with my job would want to drive a piece of junk. Lucille was anything but junk, she would weave in and around a giant sea of shiny cars every day getting me to work on time. Her run down looks, her chipped paint, her low hung undercarriage and the hockey puck sized hole in her muffler posed a threat to the drivers in my upper class community.

To other drivers I looked and sounded like the person who just couldn’t afford to fix my car, a driver who could not afford insurance-so I went with it. Cars parted to get out of my way and created perfect holes, so I took them. If someone in their comfortable sparkly cars attempted to get in front of me - I steered her booty out and blocked their paths. Getting places faster with a rush of adrenaline, I was living derby off the track, thanks to Lucille.

After about a year of driving Lucille I started to get into deep trouble on the track. I was never a saint in
derby - I spent my time in the penalty box like any player, but this past year I started noticing that the refs were red faced and screaming at me to go serve my time. They were more intense towards me
compared to the other skaters on my team.

What the hell am I doing wrong? Why do they hate me so much? Why are they screaming at me like
that? Why are the flailing? Am I going crazy? Waa Waa Waa! WTF! This went through my head for a few months. I blamed my anger issues (I’m in my 30’s still trying to piss off my family, talk about issues), I blamed my attitude, I blamed the refs, I blamed the game.

One day when I ran outside to grab my skates from my car, from the second floor with the windows closed I heard it loud and clear - the TV!

I ran upstairs, opened my door, walked slowly into the living room and was smacked in the face with the sound waves. Holy shit, I watch tv like my 90 year old grandmother! Holy shit, I’m losing my hearing. Holy shit, Derby!

Lucille, with all that triple threat packaged into her run down body, slowly ruined my hearing. No wonder the refs seemed extra agitated with me! I probably didn’t acknowledge their authority on the first or second or even third call. They probably had to waste their time skating around the track stalking me to get me to serve my time.

All I saw were refs who seemed extra angry with me, who screamed more animated at me. All they saw was a skater who disregarded their authority, so they must have screamed louder and louder and since I never responded well to screaming, at times my defense was to scream back (again anger issues and penalty box time).

You hear it all the time: skaters profess their love for derby - how it saved their soul, how it got them out of a bad marriage, gave them power to walk out of an abusive relationship, how it gave them long
lasting friendships, support they needed, self confidence, power and even just the arena to wear tiny shiny spandex.

We all know the game is amazing, but we all know it is so much more than just the game. Derby gives something to every skater. To me every time I was sent to the box, and had to deal with my internal reaction to the refs I was reminded that I had some deep rooted anger somewhere. I couldn’t brush
it off, or push it down, it was there and I had to sit for a minute reflecting on it while I watched my team play a skater down.

So this weekend I plan to drive up to my parents one last time before getting Lucille’s muffler fixed (I never said I was cured). I plan on being extra alert around the refs in games and scrimmages, I plan to start meditating again, I plan to get my hearing checked, and I plan to leave the house 20 minutes early since Lucille will now be just another car in the crowd.