the lowdown

We knew going into the last bout we would be skating short.  Our best blocker, our brick-wall blocker, Former Fearless Leader and our phenomenon jammer (it's her first season and she made the A team) were all going to be either out of town, at weddings, or wouldn't make attendance.

Normally, you have fourteen players on a roster.

We would have eleven.

I didn't know what would happen, at that bout.  I didn't like thinking about it.  How could we go through the whole season, undefeated, and lose the championship?  We could say "our season overall was better", but who pays attention to that?  It's the team whose name is engraved upon that sweet, sweet trophy.

And skating short, without our best players, the fact that I am a pessimist by nature...

Normally the way our lineups ran with a full roster, we'd do five lineups, everyone in two, with a three or four jammer rotation.

This time, we had a three jammer rotation with two lineups, everyone in one.

In lineup #1, the pivot, the leader, the one who's responsible for knowing what's going on and communicating to her packmates, is Coach Superstar - who's been playing derby since 2004, who founded a WFTDA league and was an original member of another WFTDA league, who three years ago was considered "one of the most experienced players" in that second WFTDA league.

In lineup #2, I'm the pivot.

Yeah, no pressure there.

The other members of my lineup and I decide we will call ourselves the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.  I'm Conquest and/or Pestilence.

Our team jackets finally get done Friday evening.  I pass them out at our team bonding session and they are awesome.  We eat, we talk about organ donation and brain donation, we strategerize. 

So Saturday arrives.  Maverick does pretty well at his baseball game, getting a hit, an RBI and making a few sweet plays at second base.  I have Chipotle for lunch.

It is eleventy billion trillion degrees in the venue, even before we skate.  Fortunately I brought the league spray bottles that have been sitting in my garage for the last ten months.

The first bout is our home team that's not in the championship bout playing a compilation away team.  They win, by one point.  It is an awesome bout and we are screamingly happy for them.  But now, it's our turn.

One of our skaters who was questionable will be able to skate in a sub position, if one of us needs a break. But still.

I look at the row of fourteen chairs. At most, we will only need six.

I take the pivot helmet cover and put it on.  It won't be leaving my head all night.

I still have no idea how we're going to do.

And.....we're off!

Strategy, strategy, strategy!  Partnership, partnership, partnership!   One of their jammers gets a major, she's in the box, slow down!  She comes back in, but does it in front of the pack, back into the penalty box she goes!  Holy crap, they're ahead now!  Gaaaaah!  I am not tired at all, though.  Dance on the line, say hey to the chick from the other team who always seems to be out there with me.  Is it halftime? It's halftime.  We're leading, but not by much.

Shortened half-time because it's a doubleheader.  Smile, smile, smile.  It's still anyone's game.  Don't get panicked, play it cool, play it fun.  And we're back out there!

We're winning. We're winning!  I get a few good hits on the various jammers.  I go to hit one, but my timing is a little off and I bobble her but don't knock her down.  When I get back to the bench, our bench manager (Anton Apolo OhHELLno) asks if my leg is okay, because it looked like she skated over it.  I have no idea that that happened.

Five minutes or so left, we decide to run the clock down a little.   One of the players on the other team notices, says, "Oh, so THAT'S how you want to win?" and hits me as hard as she can. (While I'd like to say that I didn't budge, I went sprawling.)

Last jam.  We're leading by, like, eighteen points.  Easily obtained by a killer jam.  Captainness Awesome is our jammer.  She gets through but is not lead.  Our pack holds, and holds, and holds the other jammer.  The period clock runs out.  I start to think "Holy shit, we're actually going to WIN THIS GAME!" They hold, and hold.  With about thirty seconds left on the jam clock, she gets through and is called lead jammer.  She looks at the scoreboard and wearily calls off the jam.

we are a happy crew

So then, after the bout, I realize three things:

1. I did not get any penalties at all (a first);

2. That kneepad that has been giving me nothing but trouble? (I also neglected to mention that when the guy repaired them, he had to cut a slit in the back of the kneepad, which unraveled and the padding in the top started to come out):

methinks I won't be wearing this ever again

3. My shin is starting to hurt from where someone may or may not have skated over it. (Eventually I would end up with a bruise about the size of my pinky.)

At the afterparty, we were all talking, and Captainness Awesome and Coach Superstar mentioned that after practice on Monday, they were riding home coming to terms with the fact that we would probably not win.  But then they were like "Well, Queenie thinks we can win (because I was saying things like "not 'if' we win, but 'WHEN' we win!"), so maybe we have a chance!"

"I was bluffing!" I said.

'Twas amusing.

So yeah, sweet, delicious victory-flavored victory.  Yaaaaaaaaaaaay!