I'm still flying high from last weekend's inaugural Albany All Stars roller derby bout. Everyone, team, guest referees & wonderful volunteers, went above and beyond expectations. We had 1200+ people attend with the line for tickets around the block.
Here are a few clips of the action:
Email me if you want to become a sponsor because I have noooo problem at all hitting up people to support activities in which I wholeheartedly believe.
So other than blatant promotions (buy tickets early on ticket master for March 29 bout, doors at 6pm, action at 7pm. All the cool kids will have signs indicating love for referees), what's the epilepsy connection?
I can't be a rollergirl because of the epilepsy. It's not so much the risk of seizure mid-jam, though interrupting game play would be rather rude. The real risk is expanding the hole in my brain or at least exacerbating it.
My neurologist was very strategic in convincing me that continuing to hit and get hit might be a poor decision in the long term. He didn't say "you can't" to which I would have responded, "watch me" channeling my most petulant teenage self. Instead, he said "having fun now might leave you severely damaged later."
My greatest fear is being trapped in my own head with something like Alzheimer's or paralysis. Presented with the risks and the ability to choose, I had the space to think through what letting go of an activity I love might mean. Nothing is certain (after all I could fall down the stairs, get hit by a meteor in the head or go nuts without help), but I can avoid looking for opportunities to cause damage.
But the sacrifices that come hand in hand with this transition to admitting that I'm an epileptic suck. I was sulky this week because I hadn't been hitting my friends on the track. I miss pounding the crap out of myself and others. It's fun.
I haven't given up derby by any means--I became a referee and coach. Now instead of hitting, I get to use my words. In loud, expletive laced, non-conflict-resolution-why-don't-we-get-long, bossy terms. I'm a referee. The outfits is much more iconic with black and white being a timeless color combination. I get to hang out with lots of guys and make off color jokes. Afterall, now I'm a Penilizer.
It's a trade off-I don't get to hit but I do get to yell. I don't get to be part of the action but I do get to influence the game. I didn't have to throw in the sweat soaked towel just because the brain wigged out. It's not better or worse, just a different role. And you better get your butt there to see it.
Here are a few clips of the action:
Email me if you want to become a sponsor because I have noooo problem at all hitting up people to support activities in which I wholeheartedly believe.
So other than blatant promotions (buy tickets early on ticket master for March 29 bout, doors at 6pm, action at 7pm. All the cool kids will have signs indicating love for referees), what's the epilepsy connection?
I can't be a rollergirl because of the epilepsy. It's not so much the risk of seizure mid-jam, though interrupting game play would be rather rude. The real risk is expanding the hole in my brain or at least exacerbating it.
My neurologist was very strategic in convincing me that continuing to hit and get hit might be a poor decision in the long term. He didn't say "you can't" to which I would have responded, "watch me" channeling my most petulant teenage self. Instead, he said "having fun now might leave you severely damaged later."
My greatest fear is being trapped in my own head with something like Alzheimer's or paralysis. Presented with the risks and the ability to choose, I had the space to think through what letting go of an activity I love might mean. Nothing is certain (after all I could fall down the stairs, get hit by a meteor in the head or go nuts without help), but I can avoid looking for opportunities to cause damage.
But the sacrifices that come hand in hand with this transition to admitting that I'm an epileptic suck. I was sulky this week because I hadn't been hitting my friends on the track. I miss pounding the crap out of myself and others. It's fun.
I haven't given up derby by any means--I became a referee and coach. Now instead of hitting, I get to use my words. In loud, expletive laced, non-conflict-resolution-why-don't-we-get-long, bossy terms. I'm a referee. The outfits is much more iconic with black and white being a timeless color combination. I get to hang out with lots of guys and make off color jokes. Afterall, now I'm a Penilizer.
It's a trade off-I don't get to hit but I do get to yell. I don't get to be part of the action but I do get to influence the game. I didn't have to throw in the sweat soaked towel just because the brain wigged out. It's not better or worse, just a different role. And you better get your butt there to see it.
3 comments:
I think I would like the yelling better. That is a trade-off I could live with.
I plan on telling stories about the legend of Miranda Wrights. Your exploits, many you have never experiences, shall become legend.
I might even go so far as to say, with your Penalizer outfit selections, you ARE the sexiest Zebra in the wild kingdom of the All Stars mid-track.
(And you KNOW I find a different Zebra sexier off the track...)
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