So for the past three bouts, I've made the transition from score booth jockey to microphone jockey, breaking in my announcer voice with assists from visiting announcers Mary that Motha OH GOD (from the Dutchland Rollers), Jimmy Sharter (from the East Penn CrushBunnies), and Juliette Lewdness (from the Lehigh Valley Roller Girls).
The third time must have been the charm, because this past weekend the nervousness subsided and it finally hit me that I was right in the middle of the action! After experiencing the isolation of the score booth, it was like comparing Blu-ray to Betamax.
Here are some of the sights and sounds I experienced during our last bout against LVRG:
- The "Whoop!" sound Doom Hilda makes when she feels like her feet are getting ahead of her.
- Seeing the determined grimace of Hell Razin' Hussy, up close and personal, getting back on her feet after a painful-looking hit.
- The *smack* a Special Vixen's kneepad made when it collided with Lawless Lizzie's helmet. (This left me speechless when it happened, but Lizzie just shrugged it off and dove right back into the pack.)
- The mischievous smile on Bozie Banger's face while jamming against Chicana Bruzya and giving her the Bozie Booty Block.
- And of course, the non-stop stereo soundtrack that anyone standing between the penalty boxes gets as skaters slide in, shrugging and asking, "Why? What did I do?"
Did I stumble over a couple of calls? Sure. Did I mangle someone's derby name at some point? Probably. Have I feared for my bones because there were skaters colliding inches away from my face? Absolutely. But would I rather have some safer seat in the house?
What, and give up show business?
Special thanks go out to Ivy Illegal and Pyro-tech-nix for manning the booth!
(Photos courtesy of Jeff Boyce.)
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