Merby Madness

Somehow amongst all the different activities I’ve undertaken in the last few months (Women’s Roller Derby reffing, filming music festivals and starting a rather time-consuming film production job) I’ve also somehow been absorbed into the world of Men’s Roller Derby, Merby, mainly at the behest of my girlfriend, Carrie and platonic Derby ‘wife’ Gareth.

So yesterday I pottered on down to the open air Lidl that is Stoneybridge (North East London meets Sarajevo) to attend my first session with Southern Discomfort – the men’s off shoot of London Roller Girls.

Now for those who don’t know roller derby it is, in my mind at least, a counter-culture sport that combines elements of F1, rugby and roller skating. The idea is to essentiallyfor twelve people to bomb around a track in an anti clockwise direction knocking people over with your arse.

Now the reason I got into the sport, other than the hot women (always a Brucey bonus), is that it seemed to be the absolute antithesis of most mainstream sports. Everyone was enthusiastic, eclectic, slightly bonkers, covered in tattoos and did it for the love of the game -not money. In short I dug the attitude, the people and vibe.

Nothing much has changed on that note, I still go because of the people and have made some grade A friends in the process but there is something about the game itself that is niggling at me. I’m not sure what it is yet, it could be that there isn’t a ball and that factalone is still spinning my internal compass all over the shop or it could be the elephant in the room that the sport is overly complicated. I’m not sure, but currently I feel like the one member of the cult who is vegan and doesn’t want to sacrifice the lamb.

(Note: Having kicked a basket ball in roller skates and nearly killed myself I’m not for a moment suggesting introducing a ball to proceedings however I still want to cross the game with Gladiators. I can see why punching and elbowing are outlawed but puglil sticks on skates? THINK ABOUT IT)

So yesterday I spent two hours in close proximity to my Derby ‘wife’ Gareth (quote of the month from my mate Chris: Why don’t you two fuck already? I think Chris is jealous) getting battered and bruised by a group of 10 men and 3 women on the Merby court. We did drills, did pack work and learnt to hip block each other – which is the first time I’ve been on the other side of the action.

All in all I survived it. I’m knackered, feel on my shitty hip about a dozen times but didn’t disgrace myself. Admittedly I need better glasses which don’t fall off every other second, a belt for my shorts (LOOK  UPON MY ARSE) and a better fitting gum shield. (I had to keep taking it out mid practice to drink out the excess saliva, or ‘lung butter’ as Sutton Impact described it.)

Anyway shortly after proceedings I got:-

a) Asked if I wanted to pay monthly to receive a discount

b) My official photo taken, where I look like a bearded rapist with a gum shield, soon to appear on the official website.

c) Asked twice if I’d like to bout in our official first match of the season against Croydon in September. So it looks like I’m here for the long haul and should train my arse off.

To quote the oft used poker saying: I’ve fingered so I might as well fuck.