Lacing up for a beat down

Excuse me. Pardon me. Sorry. This is rather humiliating. While I struggle to find the skating rhythm, the derby girls pass me left and right. Again and again. Mere minutes after lacing up my outdated roller skates -- with awesome neon-green wheels -- I've become frustrated with my inability to contend with my skating comrades. Gut-check. Time to show all the Flatliners that I'm a journalist who can fly just like they can.\nEntering a straightaway on the squad's makeshift track at the Bloomington SportsPlex, I violently pump my legs to gain speed -- and end up at a blistering five miles per hour. At this speed, everyone's attention is beginning to turn to this rookie phenom on the track.\nI try not to lose speed as I approach a turn. My quadriceps burn as I stay low to the track.\nYet somehow, I experience that split-second loss of balance. My body tenses up as I squirm uncontrollably, awaiting the crash landing. Fully extended, I plant myself on the hard wood. Thud. \n"Stupid rookie," the Flatliners are thinking to themselves.\n"Nice fall," says Truly F Obvious, the most intimidating woman I have ever encountered in my life. Her vintage Rec Specs remind me of Kareem Abdul-Jabbar.\n"True," as the skater has been deemed by her teammates, is a co-founder of the Bleeding Heartland Rollergirls roller derby league to which the Flatliners belong. The league is associated with the Women's Flat Track Derby Association. The league was launched in August 2006 and still is composed of only one team, but the skaters are optimistic that the sport's growing popularity will allow for expansion.\nAfter being informed that I would practice with the Flatliners, I surfed the team's Web site to see what all the hype was about. Reading the skaters' names -- "Molly McFracture," "Hell No Kitty" and "Badd Mudda Trucker" -- made me laugh at first, but my amusement soon turned to terror. The team's photo gallery devoted to various injuries had me imagining how my hospital bed was going to feel.\nBefore practice, I have the opportunity to calm my fears by conversing with a few skaters before hitting the track.\n"Are you ready to get your ass kicked?" asks one skater. I chuckle anxiously and introduce myself to lighten the mood. "Hi, I'm Joe."\n"I'm Sue Cidal," she says.\nOh my God.\nBetti Rampage, the team's volunteer coordinator and a soon-to-be mother, lends me skates for the day, and we begin talking about the obscurity of roller derby. The excitement and intensity of the sport brings audiences of roughly 700 fans to the Flatliners' home bouts, Rampage says.\nA bout is composed of two teams, each team having a lineup of five skaters: a jammer, a pivot and three blockers. The blockers and pivots make up the pack -- the group of skaters closely crowded together. The jammers, indicated by stars on their helmets, start off behind the pack and attempt to pass the blockers and pivot on the opposing team. Each legal pass is a point for that jammer's team. The object of the blockers and the pivot is to help advance their respective team's jammer while prohibiting forward progress by the opponent's jammer.\n"The whole roller derby spectacle is just bizarre," Rampage says.\nI take a couple of laps around the track, trying desperately to regain the roller-skating skills I once had in my youth. After a few wipeouts, referee Epic Brendemic decides to show me basic falling techniques, my favorite being the "rockstar," where you put both knees to the ground as you kill that electric chord. \nBecause of liability issues, I'm unable to participate in the team's 20-minute scrimmage. I'm a little disappointed about not being able to experience some real action, but my shoulder welcomes the break. During practices like this, when the squad has an upcoming match, hitting is limited to upper-arm checks and booty bumps. The physical nature of the sport is evident nonetheless.\nUnfortunately for this spectator, there are no bone-jarring hits to gawk at today, just winded faces and fatigued bodies. \nI head back onto the track, assuming I will get some time to hone my abysmal skills. Brendemic helps demonstrate the "slingshot." In order to pull off a slingshot, the jammer grabs the outstretched hand of a teammate, who pulls the jammer forward, increasing her speed. This maneuver can allow for easy passing and a significant point boost.\nAs I get whipped around a bend, picking up considerable speed (which is probably only seven miles per hour), out of the corner of my eye comes True, who denies me the inside pass by cutting off my angle and lowering her shoulder into my waist. That little nudge while going at top speed (for me) means only one thing -- I'm going to the ground once again. \nTrue is a veteran who demands the respect of everyone that steps on her track. I admire that, and I show her my respect by sneaking up behind her and trying to knock her onto her ass. With a mischievous grin on my face and rage in my heart, I slammed my shoulder into her massive arm. WHAM!\nShe doesn't budge an inch. My shoulder begins pulsing again.\nA few members of the team have me try to pass them on the track. (It is a common misconception that the object of roller derby is to deliver as much physical punishment as possible to the opposition.) This is perhaps my most disheartening stunt of the entire evening. I try passing inside; they "booty block" me there by sticking out their butts and not allowing me to pass. On the outside, a shoulder check denies me access. I try faking outside and cutting in -- I'm on the ground once again. Calling it quits.\nAs I roll off the track, I ask coach Sylver Maximum how the team will fair at its next match.\n"We're gonna win. And we're gonna kick their asses."\nIt wasn't just the words themselves that were threatening; it was the sincerity in her tone of voice.\nCall the paramedics.