A group of officials — some on skates, some off — make roller derby bouts go
 Skating referees listen to The Star-Spangled Banner at the Tsunami Sirens’ roller derby bout against the Redding Angry Beavers on June 23. Six skating referees award points and assess penalties over the course of a bout. Del Norte Triplicate/Bryant Anderson They operate under pseudonyms — “Oliver DePlace,” “El Tronco Del Mono,” “Lotsa Rage.”
They wear the same basic uniform, taking individual stylistic liberties as they see fit. Some have numbers on their backs.
“They’re the team that never loses,” Cayce “Red Eye Jedi” Harris, emcee for the Tsunami Sirens roller derby team, tells a crowd at the Del Norte County Fairgrounds on June 23. “The zebras!”
Skating officials, as the six men and women in black and white
stripes are called, restore order to the controlled chaos that is a
roller derby bout. They are volunteers from all over northern
California, contributing to a sport they’ve grown to love.
All six serve specific functions: Two jammer referees keep track of
the points scored by the two jammers on the track, and four pack
referees watch the other eight skaters for illegal contact or activity.
“One of the largest aspects is calling a safe game,” says Michelle
Dudley, head referee for the Sirens’ June 23 bout against the Redding
Angry Beavers. “People want to have a good time.”
Dudley skates under the nom-de-roller derby “Kiss My Axe,” a
reference to her bachelor’s degree in forestry from Humboldt State
University. She began skating in November 2009, while pursuing a
master’s degree from Purdue University in West Lafayette, Ind., and
refereed her first bout in April 2010. “I didn’t make a call the whole
hour and a half,” she recalls with a laugh.
 Skating referee Frank “Reff Gordon” Isaacson holds up five fingers, indicating that a jammer has scored five points, during the Tsunami Sirens’ roller derby bout against the Redding Angry Beavers on June 23. “No matter what call you make, you’re going to piss off the crowd,” he says. “You have to have thick skin.” Del Norte Triplicate/Bryant Anderson The head referee has three special privileges: Dudley can talk
directly to the skaters (other referees are forbidden from doing so),
she can call for official reviews and she can eject players, coaches and
fans. Ideally, Dudley uses that power as a last resort, but “it’s
happened before. People do things, intentionally or unintentionally.”
Dudley, who lives in Eureka and works for a lumber company, has
applied for referee certification through the Women’s Flat Track Derby
Association (WFTDA), whose rulebook is used by the Tsunami Sirens and
their opponents in bouts. Certification enables both skating and
non-skating officials to work on high-level WFTDA bouts; skating skills
and performance are evaluated as part of the application process.
“There are no certified referees (living) between the Bay Area and
Oregon,” Dudley explains. “It means you’ve mastered the game.”
Pack referees are looking for illegal blocks above the shoulders or
below the knees, grabbing and holding onto opponents, and any contact
occurring outside the boundaries of the track. Most illegal contact
falls under the purview of minor penalties; intentional or severe
examples of illegal contact can draw major penalties.
“No matter what call you make, you’re going to piss off the
crowd,” says derby referee Frank Isaacson. “You have to have thick
skin.”
Four minor penalties add up to one major penalty, at which time
players are sent to the penalty box. Major penalties call for one minute
in the box; penalties carry over between jams.
“The directive of a skating official is, be 100 percent certain
you’re making the right call,” Dudley says. “If you think it had a major
impact but you’re not sure, it’s downgraded to a minor impact. If you
think it had a minor impact but you’re not sure, it’s downgraded to no
impact.”
Jammers, the point-scorers, are not exempt from the rules; on three
occasions in the June 23 bout, both the Sirens’ and the Angry Beavers’
jammers occupied the penalty box. (In those instances, both penalties
are nullified and play resumes.)
In the middle of the action — indeed, in the middle of the flat track
— Andrew Bascochea oversees the execution of penalties, points and
other minutiae — “Pretty much everything that makes this thing a
sport,” he says.
Not unlike football, basketball and baseball, with statisticians and
clock operators and other support personnel, roller derby requires a
number of non-skating officials: two scoreboard operators, two penalties
trackers, three penalty box supervisors, two lightboard operators (to
relay calls from pack referees), two lineup trackers, and a whiteboard
operator that lets the teams know what exactly is going on.
Bascochea, who lives in Crescent City and works “for the
government,” was inspired to volunteer with the Sirens by the 2009 movie
“Whip It,” starring Drew Barrymore and Ellen Page as roller derby
players.
“I thought, that was cool,” he said. “Then I watched a bout. The next
week was boot camp. That was two years ago.”
“I go with the girls to away bouts,” adds Bascochea, known as
“Pork-Chop Express” (referencing the 1986 Kurt Russell movie “Big
Trouble in Little China”) at bouts. “It’s great fun to go out, meet the
teams, go somewhere else. At the end of the day, we go to the
after-party.”
That sense of camaraderie attracted Isaacson to roller derby.
Isaacson, who works in information technology in Redding, got divorced
in 2008 and was looking for a way to meet new people.
“I wanted to get back in shape (as well),” Isaacson says. “I wanted
to be involved. I got really involved. Roller derby sucks you in. It
becomes, like, a lifestyle.”
Isaacson plays with North Coast Men’s Roller Derby (pseudonym: Alec
Brawlwin; the facial resemblance is uncanny) in addition to refereeing.
As an official, he goes by “Reff Gordon” and wears number 24; both
NASCAR driver Jeff Gordon and Isaacson hail from Vallejo. “I just threw
it out there and it stuck,” he says.
The Sirens-Angry Beavers bout starts off well for the home team, as
the Sirens jump out to a 91-27 lead. The six referees are constantly
moving, constantly waving their hands and shouting out calls amid the
din of popular music and physical contact.
In the second half, the Sirens nurse their big lead as the Angry
Beavers ratchet up the physicality. The game gets rougher. Players dish
out more big hits and are sent to the penalty box more often.
Never once, of course, does the game get out of hand, even as the
Sirens cruise to a 146-75 victory. The officials, skating and
non-skating alike, strike a delicate balance in the middle of and above
the fray.
Reach Robert Husseman at
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