Roller Derby sees a resurgence of popularity in Sand Springs
By Jenny Redden, Staff Writer
Published: Saturday, August 1, 2009 11:40 AM CDT

It's Tuesday evening, and Cheap SKATES Night is wrapping up at the rink in Sand Springs.
The final song ends and the lights come on, cuing the exodus of young girls in sparkle bracelets, glitter nail polish and glow-stick necklaces. Their departure makes way for a new set of girls on the rink.

Members of the Tulsa Derby League, Sand Springs' flat track roller derby team, take over the floor to the intimidating tune of Marilyn Manson's “Beautiful People.” These girls are older, but they exude the same youthful energy.

The dozen or so women are wearing enough padding to keep a football player safe during tackles. Ages 21 to mid-40s, they glide across the rink, both graceful and fierce.

They say roller derby is making a comeback. The off-beat “sport,” notorious for its no-rules, anything-goes brutality on skates, was a TV sensation in the 1970s but had become virtually extinct years ago.

Why are people suddenly interested in derby again? And why would otherwise sensible women be willing to participate?

An intrepid reporter, I decide to don some skates — and plenty of pads — to find out for myself.

I enter the rink as the team huddles for a strategy talk with SKATES owner and derby coach Court Collier.

With the intensity of any dedicated coach, Collier reviews notes from the recent scrimmage against the Green Country Roller Girls.

“We just need to get out there and hit harder,” he says. He wants to be sure his team is ready for the first bout of the season Aug. 23.

Team captain Kimberly Cooper adds, “Don't apologize to your teammates (during practice) because the other team won't apologize to you.”

And with that, practice begins. I'm terrified.

Because I haven't skated in at least a decade, I'm paired with Susan Kickham – or Summar Cyclone as she's known on the rink – a great teacher and a relatively tame skater, I'm assured.

Kickham, a friendly 48-year-old, got into skating two years ago to lose the weight she gained after crushing her hand in a dough roller on the job at Mazzio's.

Her skeletonlike build makes it easy to believe she dropped 25 pounds. Still, I know she could knock me to the floor with one quick hit.

Before anything else, she teaches me to trust my pads. Kickham shows me how to fall, first to one knee and then to both, called a rockstar. Feeling quite unlike a rockstar, I next learn to fall to knees and elbows, called a superman.

“Keep your hands in a fist,” Kickham warns. “Wheels hurt fingers.”

I'm surprised by how much shock the pads absorb. It instills a mild confidence. Mild but better than nothing.

Next, I work on skating technique. I learn to cross over, to cut away, to lean into turns.

“The lower you are, the better,” my teacher explains. Center of gravity is important.

About the time I start thinking this isn't so bad, two ominous, people-sized pads come out. It's time to practice hitting.

Collier sets up a cone course. We are to weave through the cones, looking over our shoulder at each turn, and then slam into the pads. A skater is holding the first pad, but the second one is freestanding.

“Just plow straight through,” he says.

Tiffany Bougher is up first. I met her on my way into the rink. She showed me her bruises, two of them, apparent trophies from the scrimmage. I didn't know it at the time, but she's called JalePAINo on the rink – and I see now for good reason. Yikes.

With athleticism and control, Bougher swings around the cones and crashes into the pads, one after the other.

“Good hits,” Collier encourages.

One by one, the teammates file through the course. When they have finished, it's my turn. Gulp.

My already-mild confidence waning, I take off. I come to the first cone but am unsure which side of it I'm meant to be on.

“It's OK,” I hear Collier call out.

With the first pad looming feet ahead, I decide cones are the least of my worries. I pass by and focus on hitting.

I bend my knees to brace myself and BAM. The skater holding the pad is knocked back a few feet. It feels good, so good in fact I completely forget to weave through cones on the second half of the track.

This, however unintentional, allows me to pick up speed. I'm poised for an even bigger hit on the second pad.

With every bit of strength I can muster, I smash into it.

The pad hits the floor just seconds before I do the same.

The team cheers for me. I did it.

After my hitting debut, I opt for a drink and a rest. On the sidelines, I meet Penelope Daniels, who is sitting out this practice. She's not feeling her best after breaking her pinky at the scrimmage. Her finger got tangled in someone else's T-shirt.

“That's why you don't grab,” she says. “I learned my lesson.”

Daniels, 30, has been part of the team for four months and says she has shed 30 pounds. She shows me a colorful tattoo of a grinning Buddha on her upper arm. The art inspired her derby name, Budapest.

“I'll hit you with a smile,” she says, patting the tattoo.

As other teammates come off the rink for a water break, I learn more about the players themselves.

Many are here to lose weight, some to relieve stress. All of them are here for fun.

They practice three times a week and cherish the sisterhood that kind of teamwork fosters.

Cooper says the girls are always recruiting and looking for local sponsors to help pay for bouts. Experience isn't necessary, she adds.

After a few minutes, the rest of the girls return to the rink, but I decide to end on a high note. Sweaty and tired, I remove my pads.

I feel empowered. If nothing else, I survived.

Editor's Note: The Tulsa Derby League practices Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday at SKATES, at 401 E. Broadway Court. The team's first bout is Aug. 23 against the MoKan RollerGirls. For more information, visit www.derbystrong.com .