Roller Derby Report 3 : In Which BRD Do Something I Have Never Seen Before
Before I tell you about the match between Bridgend Roller Derby and Central City (where?) Roller Girls, I need to make a disclosure in the manner of a documentary film maker. They always say that you should be careful about being too close to your subject and I should tell you that between the last match report blog and this one, I have met many of the Bridgend Roller Derby team.
It was a social occasion in Pencoed and I have to admit that I spent some time trying to match up people to what they would look like if they were wearing a helmet and looking like they were about to knock over the opposition. For the recent match, I was kind of doing the reverse, trying to match up those on the track with those I had met in Pencoed.
The real story about the night in Pencoed is about how I almost became stranded there and had to try to prove to a taxi driver that I was the 'Liz' that he had been called to pick up. A woman also waiting for a taxi did help by confirming my identity to the taxi driver with, 'He's Liz and he's a legend' but this is really not relevant to roller derby.
What I do remember from that night is that every time I said to one of the team, "I don't really understand the rules", she would reply, "Neither do I". I started to imagine that roller derby conformed to Bill & Ted's summary of Socrates - Socrates says that a wise man is a man who knows that he knows nothing. We know nothing. Therefore, we are wise. Truly my ignorance could mark me out as an expert.
At this point we move to Neath to see BRD take on Central City (where?). Okay, I am little sceptical about Central City because there is no 'Central City'. Does it refer to the English Midlands (or Newtown getting above its status and name?) or to the geographical centre of the UK, which is somewhere near Stockport (we had to find it in Physics GCSE once - my school days taught me something, therefore stopping me being wise?) No, I much prefer a team that is out and bold about its geographic origin, like Bridgend ... who were playing in Neath. Last time I saw an open match, they were playing in Swansea. I can only assume that it is a clever psychological feint designed to keep the opponents wandering around the car park at Sarn tapping their satnav and muttering, 'we're in Bridgend but it says that there's still ten miles to go, that can't be right!' Myself, I have learned that the way to find the location of the match is to look for the burger van.
I was running late, so I did not have long after spotting the burger van to find a seat and settle down. There was a new style programme with QR codes instead of an explanation of the rules, so I spent some time pointing my phone at the programme hopefully before the match began. I have to say that when I did manage to download a list of the referees' signals, it did not help as much as I had hoped. At one point a Central City player was penalised for 'cutting' and all I can say is that it is a sad state of the game when the opponents resort to bringing knives. I may need to read up more on the rules, I think.
I chose a front row seat to the left of the aisle down the centre of the seats. After a while others came to join me but then someone asked me, 'Is that the start line?'. Clearly I look like I know things now, but I had no idea where the start line was. She then said that we were in the wrong place and moved to the other side of the aisle. I intended to follow her and, to be fair, the other side of the aisle was busier. However, it then intrigued me to wonder why the left side is the wrong side. I decided to sit and watch for a while.
I see the point of sitting to the right of the start line. The match takes place in an anti-clockwise direction so you see more of the initial skirmish if you sit to the right of the start. However, if you sit next to the start line you see the teams square up and work out what their tactics are going to be. Also, in a long jam (period of play for those who do not read the first blog - there is a two minute time limit on a jam I also learnt this time), you see a lot of action anyway as the players are coming round to the start line again.
I have noticed before that some of the players talk as they are settling in to position at the start. I have wondered what they say. I did see jammers from opposing teams sharing a joke this time, but I wondered if there was the roller derby equivalent of what the Americans would call 'smack talk' and the Australians would call 'sledging'. What does roller derby sledging consist of, I wonder? "Hey you, your mother has no sense of balance!" "Yeah, well, your mother has small unobtrusive tattoos!"
The teams came on to the track as their names were announced. Other than a brief moment of thinking "Oh, 'Roll Darl', I get it now it is said out loud!" we were off ...
At first, Bridgend and Central City were pretty evenly matched or rather, there were points being scored here and there and I was not too worried about Central City being in the lead. However, as the match went on, it became pretty clear that Central City were, how can I put this, better. I had come to expect BRD to win everything because that is all I had seen them do, but Central City were immensely nimble on their feet, sturdy in the blocking and able to get around BRD with more agility than I had seen before.
The scores were being read out periodically and I started to jot them down. Hopeful thoughts of 'well, it's only a twenty point lead' became a thirty point lead and then a fifty point lead. This did not look good. Perhaps if I shouted, 'Your mother has no sense of balance!' at the start line, it would put them off?
It seemed as though this time more of the jams went on for the full two minutes. This did mean that I saw more of the action around by the start line (indeed, I forgot about moving). Two moves stood out. The Central City jammer was coming around the bend and had a BRD blocker to pass. The blocker waited for her and at the moment when I thought that she would block her, she did nothing. In the moment after this, I wondered what on earth she was doing. I had perhaps a split second longer to start to despair of BRD when WHAM! the blocker checked the jammer with enough force to push her off the track. Timing is absolutely everything and, though BRD were losing, they were still getting in good blocks.
The second move was not quite so honourable. The Central City jammer had just done the move which I think of as having the technical name 'f**k this for a laugh' where she kind of jabs her hand diagonally towards her hips to end that jam and start a new one. Just after she did this, the BRD blocker knocked her off the track. Doubtless the BRD argument would have been that the move was already taking place and the momentum carried the BRD player forward. It looked more like annoyance carrying her forwards ... which is exactly how I felt at that moment too!
BRD did fight back and not long after the break / interval / half-time, seemed to be scoring again but every time they scored five, Central City scored ten. As a BRD fan of many years (to be confirmed) standing, it was hard to both cheer on the team and also acknowledge that Central City were just outplaying them. To give credit to BRD, they did not give up and were trying to score right to the end and even when the difference in scores was too much to close. It was just that every time they blocked left, the opposing jammer went right and vice versa. I still have no idea why some particularly vicious moves are legal and some people are sent to the 'sin bin' for seemingly innocuous challenges, but it was clear that BRD were throwing everything they had at Central City, but it was just not working.
I had another appointment to go to afterwards, so I was not able to stay and see if there was any analysis of the tactics. However, on the way out I stopped into the sports centre toilets. A man came in wearing an 'NSO' top and asked how I was finding the match. I replied that it was good, but that BRD were being outplayed, sadly. He told me that he was a scorer but that it was his first time at a roller derby match. Luckily, there was a woman in the scoring team who was keeping things on track. I replied that she was the 'Head Scorer', thinking back to a conversation I had with her over the buffet table in Pencoed Social Club.
He said that he was finding some of the challenges quite violent and I had to agree, though secretly I wondered if he would go to a rugby match and say the same. I was impressed that he was already on the scoring team.
"I don't really know how it all works," he said.
"I don't really know anything," I said.
And I think that it was at this moment that he realised that I was a wise man indeed.
