It's All in the Angle

        We’re stripping soggy pads off after practice and considering who was getting too generous with elbows in the last drill.  One skater (I’ll call her Boomer in the spirit of changing names to protect the innocent) is reminded that she has no idea why she kept getting called for major forearms in the last bout.  She was hitting clean!
        Oh, I’ve got this one.  I’ve skated with her and I’ve reffed a bout she played, and this one I can explain.  You see, when Boomer hits, the force starts somewhere near her ankles and gets magnified on the way up, exploding into the lucky recipient through Boomer’s shoulder.  It’s a good, hard, clean hit.  But I’ve also noticed (while tumbling sideways to land on the infield) that Boomer’s forearm travels along with me for a bit to see me off.  It’s not really adding any force; it’s just barely touching, so Boomer doesn’t even notice the contact amidst the chaos.
        From the ref lane, what one sees is “Jammer falls over while in contact with forearm of Blocker” (usually with a big grin on Blocker’s face).  Unless the ref is paying particular attention to what part of Blocker is making contact when Jammer begins her trajectory, it looks exceptionally like Forearm, Major.
        The dual perspective, having experienced the hit and having watched the hit with the zebra’s eye, helped me understand what was going on – and now gives Boomer what she needs to know to reduce her one minute vacations.  Rostered skaters and zeebs see the same action from different angles, and each one can inform the other.  Plus, it’s just interesting to see how the other half lives.  In short, it’s worth going out of your way to take a look at derby from the other side of the fence.
        If you’re a rostered skater, take a night and skate a ref’s position during a scrimmage.  C’mon, you know those ribs aren’t going to heal right unless you give them a little time off anyway!  The first time I just watched a bout after beginning to ref, I was amazed at how much easier it was to see the action…….as a spectator.  Apparently that whole thing of watching while skating at high speed backwards and sideways and every which way, mohawking several times a minute, dodging jammers being blocked into your path, shouting and gesticulating to indicate penalties, and having returning miscreants whizzing by to get back to the pack ends up being a bit distracting.  However, each ref position does have a few particular things that ref is situated to see better than anyone else.  Skate them, and understand what the ref’s seeing.
        For refs, it becomes a little more complicated.  Some of us have on-track skills that put most rostered skaters to shame (ok, I’m using ‘us’ loosely there).  Others of us aren’t all amazeballs, but are fine to step into a scrimmage and get the point of view.  Those elbows don’t feel like ‘no impact’ when they’re impacting your ribs; maybe that’s why people are always screaming at you about them.  Some of us don’t bout skate and shouldn’t scrimmage…but it would still be valuable to play in a ‘positional blocking only’ scrimmage, or put on a bright yellow ‘don’t hit me’ shirt and skate in the pack as an inside observer (call it a spy if that gets your juices flowing!).
        It’s a different world, a world that impacts your normal haunts, and it’s right there…why not take a look?  If we were all that fond of staying in our little boxes, we wouldn’t be in derby, right?

[Disclaimer … this post does reveal one of the purposes of this blog; to encourage mutual understanding across the zeeb/skater fence.]

The Wholly Trinity

The Wholly Trinity

        The ninety-pound jammer – maybe her name is Bugsy – rounds the corner and darts toward an opening on the line.  At the last moment the blocker – Wind Shield I think her name is? – steps over to close it. SPLAT!! as Bugsy slams Wind Shield from behind.  I draw in a lungful of air as I bring my whistle up, thinking “That’s a …….” … The whistle drops and lungs soundlessly deflate as I finish the thought.  “…..no impact.”  Wind Shield has a feral grin on her face, but her skates roll right along as if Bugsy was in another state.  “Can’t you SEE that back-block? Really?” screams an indignant voice from the crowd.  I sure did see it (it looked kinda painful for Bugsy in fact), but 2/3 of a foul is not a call.
        Later on in the same bout, I turn from reporting a call to the outside white-board NSO to see a jammer flying sideways in the air and landing heavily.  She’s twenty-five feet in front of the pack and the only skater near her is the opposing pivot, who is turning back to return to the pack as she watches the jammer hop up.  I keep my eyes on the action.  Another shout from the crowd, maybe the same voice, “Are you SERIOUS?  Did nobody see that??”  I feel for the shouter’s frustration – I have a very strong suspicion the pivot just got away with an Out of Play Major --  but I make no call.  I don’t have The Wholly Trinity.
        Initiation.  Action.  Effect.  All I ask, my very first head ref told us, is that if I get questioned on this call you can tell me what was going on when it started, what happened, and what the outcome was.  The Trinity has been preached at every ref briefing I’ve been to since, and I am a confirmed believer.  If you don’t have all three, you don’t make the call.
        I know it means the refs make less calls, and skaters get away with things that madden their opponents.  Yeah, I see that front wall holding on to each other, but the jammer is hunkered down hiding behind them and I can’t see where she is to know she’s being impeded. The jammer complains that they’re linking elbows in the middle of the pack so she can’t get through and I believe her … but I also can’t see it among the shifting horde of bodies.  Good old Bugsy made a major, top quality hit smack on Wind Shield’s backside, and I don’t blame Wind Shield for getting tired of that as it happens again and again over the course of the bout; but as Wind Shield’s rolling along undisturbed, it’s a No Impact back block.  Yes, some players make intentional use of it, knowing what’s hard to see and taking advantage when they’re shielded inside the pack.  One blocker even admitted she scouted the blind spots in a venue with pillars blocking the ref lane’s line of sight and systematically used her elbows just in the blind spots.  All I can do is keep my eyes peeled, and hope I catch enough of those sneaky moves to make the players judge them to be too expensive.  And of course, be glad that if somebody’s going to be that mean-spirited, she’s playing derby against tough women who can stand up for themselves instead of being off kicking helpless puppies somewhere.
        Really though, would we want it any other way?  I remember how indignant it made me when a jammer slammed me from behind (I am a rostered skater on my own team, and ref for others as needs and availability match up) so I plowed into the blocker in front of me.  The opposing blocker and I went down in a heap, the slippery agile jammer danced away, and I got sent to the box for a major back block:  Oh, the injustice of it all! 
        Derby is chaos.  The zeebs are never going to catch it all, and missing potential calls is better than making unjust ones, so long as safety isn’t compromised.  Therefore I remain a disciple of the gospel:  Initiation, Action, and Effect; or no call.