Tripsy Daisy

by Tripsy Daisy

I grew up faster than most. I don’t mean in the street smart, head strong, Hollywood child actor kind of way. No, I mean I was 5’5” by the time I was 10. I was wearing a B-cup, size 5 pants in the 4th grade. I was HUGE compared to the other little girls. That was the problem. They were little girls and I looked like I should be in high school. That caused a number of problems, but specifically for me, on the sports fields. I played sports from the time I was old enough to kick a soccer ball, hold a t-ball bat and dribble a basket ball. The neighborhood I grew up in was small and so I played with the same girls from grade 1 through grade 8. We played soccer in the fall, basketball in the winter and softball in the spring.

Everything was an even playing field while we were all little, but then I started to grow. At first it was cool because it wasn’t that big of a difference. I was automatically 3rd base, because I was the only one who could throw all the way to 1st. I was automatically center because I always won the tip off. I was always center half back because no one would charge me and I could kick the farthest down the field. It was kinda cool being one of the better players on my teams. But I continued to grow.

By 5th grade and at 5’7”my coaches were telling me I had to tone it down.

“You don’t want to hurt the smaller girls, do you?”

“You have to remember how much bigger you are than everyone else and watch out for them.”

“You need to be careful around everyone or you’ll hurt someone.”

“If you end up hurting a smaller girl, you won’t be able to play with us anymore.”

A group of parents on one of the other soccer teams even petitioned to get me removed from the rec league because they didn’t believe I was within the age group. I had to come to the next game with my birth certificate. This changed how I played sports. This changed how I viewed sports. This changed how I viewed myself.

After that year, I never again played with the enthusiasm of a child. After that year I was hyper aware of my size, normal if I had been 15, but not for an 11 year old. I continued to play sports and even lettered in softball my freshman year in high school, but it was never as fun. Then I grew up, went to college, got a job, life, bla, bla, bla. Then I saw my first roller derby bout.

The Rat City Roller Girls in an airplane hangar in Magnuson Park, summer, hot as fuck. I vaguely remember watching old school derby on TV with my grandmother in the 70’s but never understood the rules. This was different. The clouds parted, the sun shown down, the angels sang, I had found a love for sports again. Here was a sport where I didn’t need to look out for the smaller girls. They better look out for me. Here was a sport that every body type could do. Here was a level playing field for me to try again.

I asked someone who looked like they were involved how I would go about training and trying out for roller derby. She directed me to a local rec league, called PFM (Potential Fresh Meat). I saved my money for gear and signed up the next month. I still remembered the basics of skating from when I was a kid but in addition, I learned to fall, lateral movements, how the game is played, how to work within a pack, etc. The one thing I was having trouble with, though, was my knee jerk reaction to look out for the smaller girls. My sports past was back to haunt me. At the very beginning, when a skater who was smaller than me came up behind me, I actually moved out of her way rather than try to block her. Fine if she was my jammer. Not so good if she was on the other team. At the beginning, I had to scream at that little voice inside my head that said, “Be careful of the smaller girls, you don’t want to hurt them” and tell that voice to fuck off. My instinctive reaction was to “play nice”, and as you know you can’t play derby and play nice.

Thankfully, I was smart enough to go to a derby boot camp. Not only did it push my level of fitness and agility, but I was able to share my “nice girl” issue with the other skaters. I got a lot of suggestions.

1. You’ve got to take that nice girl, mothering thing and put it in a box before you come to practice. Put it in a box and leave it at the door. You can pick it up again when you leave, but you can’t have it in here. You can’t have it on the track.
2. Make a list of all the times you were screwed over. Write out what happened and how it made you feel. Keep that list in your skate bag. While you’re gearing up get it out and read it. Then bring those feelings out onto the track.
3. You aren’t doing anyone any favors by being nice. You aren’t learning how to hit at your best when you’re worried about other girls. And other girls aren’t learning how to take a good hit. You are robbing yourself and your sisters of being a better player when you come on to the track with fear. Get over it. Get over yourself.
4. Um, whatever, grow a pair.
5. You think that some random bitch on another team or another league is going to give a shit about you? You ain’t that big. You certainly ain’t that tough. You better figure out a way to get tough or get rolled over. Those are your choices.
6. Ask someone to slap you. Open handed and hard. That’ll change your outlook.
7. You don’t need to be everone’s friend. You are here to do a job. Do your fucking job or get off the court. Knock bitches down or go sit in the audience. It’s your choice. You can play nice and have beers after the bout. Until then. Hit, hit, hit.
8. Yeah, I had that too. And then I broke a bone. I don’t have that issue any more.
9. You remember that boss or that ex or that instructor who totally fucked you over? They’re all playing on the other team. Now’s your chance. Use that.
10. I don’t talk to anyone before a bout. I imagine the hits. I go over drills and imagine doing them perfectly. Every girl here knows the risks of the sport. You aren’t so important that you are going to effect whether a girl gets hurt or not. You don’t have that power. Learn to play the game as well as you can. Worry about you and let them worry about them. Just play the game.

I’m not sure if many other skaters have ever had this issue. Perhaps I’m the only one, but if they have, if there is anyone else out there that’s not innately hyper aggressive, but still has a love for this sport, know that this can be over come. Eventually, you’ll have a break through. Eventually, you’ll get knocked down enough times or pissed off enough to go after someone. One day that “play nice” pill so many girls have forced down their throats will lose its potency and cease to be an obstacle.

A couple months back I got a chance to see the Derby Brats skate at the Wild West Showdown. All I can say is the day that those girls turn of age, the sport will change. I was amazed at their ability and agility. I was so impressed with their natural aggressiveness. I was jealous that I didn’t have junior roller derby as a kid. I’m sad that my coaches held me back rather than pushed me harder. Because of that experience and of seeing the area women’s flat track skaters coaching those girls, those athletes, I look forward to the day that TTRB starts our own banked track junior derby league. I want to be able to do for those girls what my coaches should have done for me; push me harder and let me succeed.

I’m glad I found roller derby and I had the guts to jump into it at 39. It’s better late than never. I’m glad I’ve overcome the crap laid on me as a kid, that I didn’t even know was a problem. I look forward to the day when I can encourage young skaters to push more and play harder. And hopefully, that determination, aggression, athleticism and power that comes with playing a sport, and specifically roller derby, will lead them successfully through their lives.

Corny? Maybe. But I live by the idea that it’s better to bring others with me on my way up, then step on their heads as I climb. Unless you’re on another team, and then I’m hitting and I hope I knock you down. More >