At the end of my past life, I earned the right to be the first flat track derby announcer with the Texas Rollergirls.
What follows is a very old, very unauthorized, and very unedited version of the document I produced describing my experiences during the genesis of flat track derby. It would be some of the last moments of my past life.
Enjoy.
What follows is a very old, very unauthorized, and very unedited version of the document I produced describing my experiences during the genesis of flat track derby. It would be some of the last moments of my past life.
Enjoy.
LOUDMOUTH: Confessions of a
Flat Track Derby Announcer
By
Bowie V. Ibarra
Copyright 2007 Bowie V. Ibarra
Dedicated to every flat track
derby announcer in the world, and the three fans who actually listen to us (not
including my mom <who, in reality, has never been to a single bout I‘ve
called [Thanks a lot, mom]>).
My name is Bowie V.
Ibarra. I was an agent with the CIA for
ten years. This is my story….
OK. Not really.
My name is Bowie V. Ibarra. I
feed the homeless and work as a diplomat to for the United nations. This is my story…
Um. No.
Alright….
My name is Bowie V.
Ibarra. I was the first ever flat-track
derby color commentator who eventually came to be the most misunderstood and
reviled man in the Texas Rollergirls organization. My downfall coincided with some of the worst
times my life would ever see….
This is my story….
“When thou shalt be dispos’d
to set me light
And place my merit in the eye
of scorn,
Upon thy side against myself
will fight
And prove thee virtuous,
though thou are for-
sworn….”
Excerpt from Shakespeare’s
Sonnet LXXXVIII
Introduction
“Since the Dawn of time, man
has always wondered which roller derby team is the most bad ass….”
And so began the first ever flat track derby championship
bout. Tonight, the Hustlers were taking
on the Hot Rod Honeys in what was to be a historic bout. Being recorded on video to be set to DVD, the
bout would potentially be seen around the nation and, perhaps ultimately, the
globe.
Les “MotorMouth” McGehee was in fine form, as
always. I had known Les for close to
five years when I was performing improvisational comedy with ComedySportz in
San Antonio. He played for the Austin
team, a team I always envied and admired for their comedic grace and
intelligence.
I had only called two games before this outstanding
finale, and I already had favorites.
Dinah Mite was an amazing physical specimen and outstanding player at
all positions. Vendetta von Dutch was a
spunky blocker with a penchant for the dramatic. And my absolute favorite, White
Lightnin’: a rough and ready all-around
player that had no problem taking out opponents while jamming.
The sport was extremely appealing to me as it was a
chance for me to do what I believe is every man’s secret dream. No, not sit around drinking beer watching
some of the sexiest women in Austin skate around a track and smash into each
other on a rink that was open to the public just a few hours before. Gawking spectators, who were rattled and
confused at the sporting aspect of the spectacle, cheered and had a good time
supporting their favorite team. Their
mouths kept nice and moist with Lone Star tall boys.
But
my secret dream to announce, to be the official voice of a sporting event, had
reached a new high. One of what I hoped
would be many, a sweet milestone. With
Whiskey L’Amour and “Motormouth” McGehee, we were voices that would become
familiar with the new fans joining us on the first Sunday of every month. No one had seen this sport in years, much less
this new sport sans the antiquated ramp, so the job was monumental.
But,
man, was it fun!
I was still trying to figure out the names of the
positions. Jammers were in the jam? The pivots scored points? Blockers were jamming? I had never paid too much attention to Derby,
even in my youth. My most distant
memories of it was a woman clad in a brown business suit commanding her minions
from the middle of a banked track. For
some reason that my young mind cannot remember, the announcers were emphasizing
her role, getting her over for a for a reason I did not care about at the time
or probably didn’t understand, kind of like a dog watching American style
football. It knows there’s something
important going on, but can’t quite comprehend what or why.
But that was in the distant past. I was not only a part of this historic event,
but about to make history in my own personal life. I was soon to be married, with the wedding,
itself, just around the corner.
I was also two years away from turning 30 and was given a
peculiar prediction by a close friend and former public access TV figure named
Chris Athanas. He told me once that at
the age of 30, the stars of the zodiac cause a monumental change in your life,
something to do with one of the planets reaching the end of its 30-year journey
around the sun, marked on the day I was born.
It was a reshuffle, the universe preparing for another 30-year
trip. This ending and beginning signaled
a radical shift in every aspect of a human’s life.
As the whistle blew to begin the first jam of the first
ever flat track roller derby championship bout, I somehow knew things would
never be the same.
In fact, it would change my life forever.
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