I’m supposed to be answering reverb11 prompts; but, I am completely distracted. Yesterday, I took a deep breath, screwed up my courage and fired off an email to the Desert Dolls Roller Derby league. The subject line? “I Wanna Be a Desert Doll!
I wasn’t sure what to expect, and with crazy work days, time with family and Christmas bearing down on me like a truck, I promptly forgot about it.
This afternoon, I got a response. It was simple…they’ll be sending out an informational email right after the first of the year, and I’m on the list. I know. I know. That doesn’t mean anything more than that I’m “on the list.” To me, though, it’s a huge step.
Suddenly, this is more than just talking about it or writing blog posts about a pipe dream. Now, it’s a matter of putting on the skates and doing it.
Derby has become a bit of an obsession with me. I find myself daydreaming about it a lot…every part of it. I wonder if I can actually be tough enough to take a hit, what I’d have to wear (fish nets DO seem to be a part of the uniform,) what I’ll call myself. I wonder what it would be like standing up, conducting an enrollment meeting with a black eye or a cast on my leg.
Jesus. What if I really do break a hip?
Then, I get past all of that and think about actually skating. I’ve always loved sports…both watching and playing. As a kid, I liked being part of a team. I’m really looking forward to competing, cheering teammates on, the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat.
This obsessive tendency isn’t new. As a kid, I was really disgusted when I learned that girls couldn’t play for the Phoenix Suns. (This was before the WNBA.) I wore my Youth Basketball Association tee-shirt as many days a week as my mother would let me, carried my basketball everywhere and was always practicing “the perfect lay-up” in the driveway. I was the only girl on the block, and you could always find me, pigtailed, freckle-faced and sweaty, playing guard with the boys. We kept medical tape and clean popsicle sticks in a drawer in the kitchen for those times that I’d come running in with a jammed finger.
This year, I’m pretty sure that Santa is bringing new skates. I asked for a pair that’s a recommended brand, but not the high-end skates. I’ll save that for when I actually get drafted to a team.
I posted something on Facebook about the league email, and my mother’s reaction was, “Oh, my God! This is happening!” When I talked to her later in the day, she said that she gets a big grin on her face, as she sees that this is more than just talk. I think that she’s excited. She likes the idea of being a Roller Derby Mama. Knowing my mother, I will have plenty of glitter and sparkles on any uniform that I end up in, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.