I wrote a creative non-fiction piece for a Penn State University writing contest for alumni. Enjoy. I hope.

LOVE & GUTS ON EIGHT WHEELS

Damnit.
My laces were torn again. They don’t seem to last more than a couple weeks before I have to replace them. They should make it through tonight’s practice if I don’t fall – they have to. It was the Port Authorities' last chance to practice together as a team before the Coastal Carnage bout.

“Pappy, I don’t know how to skate,” I fussed. Why was he so dead set on taking me to Faywest Roller Rink?
“Sure you do,” he said as if I’d been skating in past lifetimes and motioned me into the car. His widely optimistic tactics were not going to work on this eight year old. I’m smarter than he thinks, and I’ll show him I how I can’t skate, I assured myself.

“Punchy O’Guts, let’s roll!” Killer Quick shouted to me. It was scrimmage time, and I hadn’t sorted my lace situation. To hell with it – they would hold. I skated to the left of the rink where my team had assembled. Killer handed me the Pivot helmet cover – known as the “panty” in the roller derby world and indication to what position I was playing for that jam.
In the pack, eight girls, on the tips of our toe-stops, waited for the whistle to signal our take off. The Mom Bomb, playing the outside position, lowered her head motioning with her eyes that she’d join me up front to hold back the opposing team. We would build a wall by skating shoulder-to-shoulder, low, and with a wide stance to keep the opposing team from passing. This was our favorite strategy – one that proved a reliable obstacle for opponents.

“I can’t fight this feeling any longer. And yet I’m still afraid to let it flow.” REO Speedwagons’ latest hit, a song I knew all too well, was playing as Pappy paid for my rentals. Right then and there I decided I would like roller skating. There was loud music, a disco ball with lights, a concession booth, and tons of people whizzing by. “What started out as friendship has grown stro-ah-ongerrr. I only wish I had the strength to let it show.” I sang the lyrics in my head barely allowing the words to escape my lips as I slipped my foot into a skate probably worn by hundreds of children.
All laced up, I walk-skated along the carpet to wall-barrier between the rink and lounge to watch the skaters. I needed a moment to see what this skating was about before I dared enter the rink.
What I saw was the most magical, romantic scene in all history of my eight years – couple skate-dancing. Two adult couples were floating and spinning, esoterically linked through their arms and gaze. True love, something I’d never seen, just skated passed me. True love existed on roller skates, I decided, and I was never taking mine off.

“Trouble & Strife is right-friggin-behind you!” The Mom Bomb shouted. With her guidance and a quick step to the right I laid a shoulder block to Trouble’s chest and sent her flying off the track. The Mom Bomb laughed. Trouble, a fierce contender on the Nautical Knockouts team, called off the jam as she landed square on her tailbone. She was right back up skating over to congratulate me on my hit.
“I got some air on that one, Punch,” she grinned and hugged me tight.
Not but thirty seconds later we were back on the track ready for the whistle. We really had to pull it together for our bout. With just one week until game time, there was far too much strategy to develop in one practice. “Killer,” I shouted with my mouth guard still in, “can we work on that ladder move?”
Having both mastered the art of communication with mouth guards, her muffled reply was clear. “There’s no point. We really need to work on hitting harder. And looking around. Olive Spankins is clearing the pack too easily. We’ve got to stop her before she scores anymore points.” Our captain was right. If we were going to win the bout, we would have to lay more effective blocks that would knock the other team on their fancy, skirted asses.

I was in love for the first time at the age of eight. In love with the sheer power of eight wheels. I’d fallen hard and fast. I was going to find someone to skate with me like that one day. I would soar on skates in a delicate embrace of magical bliss. But first I needed to learn to skate. Before the couple skate was over and I could even step onto the rink, I turned quick to Pappy, “Can we come every week?”
“Sure thing,” he winked and tickled under my chin.
Several weeks of Thursday nights at Faywest saw my skating abilities excel. I was crossing over around corners, skating backwards, and shooting the duck with the local pros. Pappy would stand by the rink, cheering me on with big-eyed smiles. Every couple skate, I would stand next to Pappy. Sighing and longingly watching the skate-dance couples, I wished so hard I would one day find love on the rink.

The rest of practice we spent following our captains orders, smashing our shoulders into our opponents’ hips and upper arms. By the end, I was feeling more confident my team had bonded – even if my laces hadn’t – and the Port Authorities were ready to take on (and maybe even destroy) the Nautical Knockouts.
“Olive, wait up!” I called after her. “You’re little juke move is near impossible to block.”
“Oh, thank you,” she gushed and wrapped her skinny arms around my neck. “I just love you girls to bits, and I absolutely can’t wait for the bout.” Her beautiful, toothy smile was a striking contrast to the grrr-face she makes just before she pummels you. “We all are kicking so much ass,” she skipped away.
I couldn’t help but grin. These girls – whether on my team or not – are my sisters through and through. Good lord, do I love them.

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