Bout Day: Bouting and what happens next.

OK, it's a bit late but my mate cancelled on me to be alone with his germs so I have an evening free to write about derby. Yay!

People are going to PAY to watch ME skate around on THESE?

I hit the YMCA at about half two, which is way earlier than I needed to be there but one does not pass up an offer of a lift from the suburbs and if I stayed at home any longer I'd have started unpacking and repacking my bags like a crazy person. Watching all the setup happen and people working hard so that I had a good venue to skate in and that other people could pay to watch me skate was a humbling, bizarre experience.

It wasn't long before the rest of the team started arriving in various states of readiness and the changing room rapidly became a minefield of kit bags, makeup sets, muesli bars and deodorants. Some of us listened to iPods and focused, others made lots of jokes and dicked about, but the atmosphere was pretty tense as the clock ticked down. We got a chance to hit the track for a quick warm up and to get used to a different floor, but after "lock down" it all got a bit serious.

Killie Jo and Tinkerbash getting their warpaint on.

The bout was meant to start by 7pm, but we were left waiting, waiting, waiting..... Eventually we got word that the men's toilets had packed in, quickly followed by the women's toilets, and we could either move out our changing rooms and let their toilets be opened up to the spectators, or they'd have to send everybody home. Not really a choice, was it?

All together!

The upside of this was that both teams were now sharing a changing room. The tension and stress of the last few hours lessened as we saw the Alpha Beta Slammers' new uniform, joked about toilets and applied makeup together. It took my nailbiting stress down a few notches to remember that my rivals on the night were also my mates and people I'd been training with for months, and that we were going to have a great time regardless of the outcome.

......................................................................

Skating out to an applauding, yelling crowd of hundreds when your name is announced is something I am not going to forget in a hurry, or indeed ever. Of the bout itself there's not a huge amount I can really say. We were very focused at the start, lost it a bit towards half time, made an excellent push in the final quarter but just didn't quite make it.

On the pivot line, showing off. Photo by James Yang Photography

When you're on the pivot line, there's nothing but the jam. You forget the crowd, the score, everything but doing your job in those two minutes. Sometimes you do a great job, sometimes you don't. I ended up in the box a few times, nothing hideous (minors! Damn you!). I got yelled at a few times for not being useful, I got pats on the back for doing things right. The whole thing seemed to take about ten minutes, but the high lasted for hours. Losing by ten points was so close it felt like a victory, and the fact I didn't make too big an ass of myself meant I was in a very happy place for the rest of the night. That and all the beer.

So, what happens now? Well, we lost the coin toss and play the mighty Dead Wreckoning on the 18th June. They've won the last three home seasons, and have some of the most fearsome skaters in the country wearing their distinctive skeleton uniforms. If we beat them, we'll make history and still have a shot at the final. Lose, and my Mascara Massacre adventure is over for the year. We're down two players with broken ankles, one with a rotator cuff injury and another is taking a fortnight off with a dislocated AC. There's a lot at stake and we have the odds against us, but we'll fight bloody hard and I've no doubt that we'll give everything we've got.

If you're in Auckland, come along. We sold out before the bout last time, don't let that happen to you! Tickets on sale at Under The Radar from June 2nd or Real Groovy.