Thursday, July 22, 2010

The fruits of labor of from my couch cushion neighbor, Dread continues to rock

Almost a week has gone by since this happened:
Can't see what's going on? Then read below and know you missed out on a gripping, emotional moment where the video sets the tone and you are only getting a fraction of the experience.


The doubleheader at Shriners contained some of the greatest plays we have seen from our home team and Massacre skater skaters this season.  In front of nearly a thousand fans, four teams gave it their all in the mercifully air-conditioned auditorium. While the Cosmonaughties won the bout, the Nutcrackers were able to staunch the bleeding and keep pace with them. However, the person who kept pace the most was the missus. That's right, Dreadnought, who was able to race after players and suck them back into the pack like the angry tentacle of a pink-hued, primordial kraken. My wife, whose ass and shoulders are already a forced to be reckoned with at home and on the track proved that she's a LOT faster than any of us imagined. Including herself.


It's been a long road for Dread on the track. Her first season with the league, she didn't even skate. Injuries sidelined her and slowed her progress while members of her fresh meat class went on to soar among the veterans that had inspired all of them to join. It was tough as sin for her, but she did not give up. She trained harder, listened to feedback, and worked until even I was fatigued. You cannot stop Dreadnought when she's decided to do something, as I have found out in countless, frustrating non-derby moments. Here, that stubborn will is an asset.

Over the past year, after the Nuts' Championship win, it's only gotten more impressive. Dread's gotten leaner, meaner and speedier. Saturday's MVP win (bet you wish you watched the video) was proof that effort and perseverance brings victories that are better savored than success right out of the gate.

It's not just her skating. The roller derby quilt is nearly finished and she's working on getting a book published about it. A lesser, pettier writer would be jealously guarding his medium from his wife's incursion, but she let me invade the world of the flat track. I'm also not a jealous dude. See how I was able to give myself thumbs up in an article about her? That's awesome. Thankfully, she's not writing an autobiography, as someone's already beaten her to it:

Yeah, you better be Dreading me.



To think, were it not for that A&E series, the desire to hit ladies with her butt would never have been realized. Now if only we could find something on television as challenging for this little lady:

  She knows the remotes are important, and that they bring horses into the house through that stupid box.

Saturday, July 17, 2010

Husband of the Fresh Meat Mama = Derby Stepfather? A confusing interlude of Povich proportions

The season has only three more doubleheaders (two after tonight)  and flyers are already circulating around the Metro Boston area for the Fresh Meat skate clinics. Bad Person, part of the 2010 class of Wicked Pissahs, posed for the recruitment flyer and it looks pretty sweet:

She wants you to play so bad, because she wants to hurt you.

Around my house, this time of the year is magical. Dread loves try-outs and really goes out of her way to help the new girls learn skills, ride out tough criticism, and meet up with the right skaters who can help them take their training to the next level before the home team draft. Our apartment becomes a flurry of activity, and strange women, with whom I have never had any interaction, invade my home to socialize and share a dream of becoming a Boston Derby Dame. As Dread has gone by the term "Fresh Meat Mama" for two seasons, it's not been lost on me that my marriage means I meet a lot of these potential skaters faster than some of our skaters. Although some of those introductions can feel a little jarring for me, as Dread does foster a level of social intimacy and warmth in these ladies that often transfers a bit onto me. It's like having Maury Povich drop a bombshell in my lap that these ladies in my house are due a lot of respect and affection already, though I don't even know them:



 Pelvis Costello, you ARE THE FATHER!


Our former apartment was a tight, bunker-like command central. Dread would spend long summer and fall nights emailing folks, helping orchestrate pairings of veteran skaters and potential fresh meat called "skater sisters," and talking to me about how excited she is about this or that girl. It's cool, if somewhat repetitive. The only issue I had with this blessed event in the old place was there was no place in the apartment I could sequester myself to meet deadlines without being interrupted with news about this-or-that-lady, any standout interviews (both good and bizarre),  and descriptions of how people are skating at the clinics. However, in the tree house of our new digs, I can now escape to the loft and write with my headphones on, uninterrupted and oblivious to both the merriment and the eventual emotional crash when it's over and not everyone makes it in. Sort of like a real Stepfather, without the added flavor of deviant creep.

Getting ready for it again, I am hoping that Dread still has the same excitement and that the competition for the limited space on the league is both fun and fierce. Now to go do some vocal exercises before the double header tonight.