Roller brawl

Andrew Mathieson
FLUORO dyed hair, skull earrings and tights, enough body piercing to blow a fuse in a metal detector …the veteran Geelong roller derby chicks make a pretty tough statement.
And that’s just their casual look away from the vicious circle of the skating rink.
Including leopard-print tops or army fatigues, the colourful “boutfits”, as the girls describe their uniforms, are a warning that broken bones, not nails, are on the line.
One of the game’s combatants, Demonique Deluxe, is home-bound nursing a broken wrist.
“This is the worst injury our league has,” she says, pointing down to her cast.
“We’ve had little niggly injuries – mostly a few knees, little tendons and ligament strains.
“They get lots of bruises and what we call rink rash from fishnet tights, which comes out in the shape of fishnet holes and feels like an irritating burn.”
Demonique’s cast is emblazoned with messages from well-wishers – but mostly allies.
‘Keep smiling – smash em up, Deluxe’ and ‘Revenge will be sweet’ are written like orders for the next roller derby battle.
Bumps and bruises are also a badge of honour.
“It’s like I’ve put in the hard yards and look what I have got out of it,” she smiles.
“You’re proud of that stuff.”
Demonique Deluxe in the real world is really Monique Schwidlewski – a 37-year-old sign language interpreter and Belmont mother of two hearing-impaired boys.
But family life and first names are quickly forgotten in the roller derby inner-sanctum.
“You can call me Deluxe,” Monique winks.
Nicknames with a twist are all a part of their tough-talking image.
Clifton Springs girl Sarah Agterhuis is known as Riff Raff Saff or just Saff for short.
“Nobody who knows me calls me by my real name, anyway,” the 26-year-old says.
Their duo’s names tame in comparison.
Some, like Mary Poppinskulls, Betty Bamalam and Anita Destroy, are about clever play on words rather than intimidatation.
“I was looking at the kind of tougher names because I went into derby thinking I’m going to be a blocker,” Saff explains.
“I’m not that agile and my speed wasn’t there but I can smash people.”
Blockers are the proverbial bodyguards for speedy jammer teammates skating around the track.
Points are scored when jammers work their way through the pack and pass their rivals.
Good hits are greeted with a nod of approval, maybe even a smirk from opponents.
“You smash people and you love doing it but there is no animosity,” Deluxe insists.
A popular retro American sport, roller derby is undergoing a revival.
Animated hits and fake fights have been replaced by strict fitness regimes and training drills.
“It’s so hard to skate as fast as you can, get knocked down 10 times, get up, keep skating and not get puffed out,” Deluxe reckons.
She bumped into a couple of local girls floating around an empty roller rink two years ago before the “first borns” formed Bloody Marys to compete against Melbourne’s three derby sides.
The word has spread and hugs have been replaced with hits in Geelong Roller Derby League, with the Bloody Marys splitting into Psychotics and Atom Bombs.
They’re now in search of a “fresh meat intake” to learn the rules and take the falls.
“When we used to go to training we didn’t have a coach,” Deluxe recalls.
“We used to research drills on You Tube and we all have to bring it to training and teach each other.”
Saff, on the other hand, was visiting the US when she began partying with some Texas roller derby girls.
The first day back home she to spotted a Geelong roller derby promotional flyer.
It’s proven more bruising than playing junior footy for this resilient girl.
“The boys were getting annoyed because I was knocking them down harder than they could knock me,” Saff brags.
“Then I was told to play netball but that was a disaster.”
The first bout – Malice in Wonderland – of the inaugural Geelong season starts tomorrow night at Corio Leisuretime Centre.