Niki at Nite: Exploring the depths of "fan-archy" with Roller Derby superfans

The enthusiasm is contagious.

I can't stop hanging over the wall to try and see everything. But there's so much fast action all over the rink — punctuated by a sickening thump and a unified "Whooooa!" or "Oh!" from the crowd — that I always miss something somewhere.

If Joker hadn't explained the rules of the game to me beforehand, I'd think the point was to brutally take down as many skaters as possible and then beat the crap out of them while they're down. But the bouts actually have structure — each team has a "jammer," one skater with a star on her helmet whose goal is to make it through the "pack" as many times as possible while skating around the track. The eight-person "pack" consists of four players from each team (one "pivot" and three "blockers"). Each team in the pack tries to help get their jammer through while preventing the opposing team's jammer from passing. Once a jammer has made it through the pack the first time, she can score a point for her team with each opponent she passes. But the blocking methods can be brutal — players can do everything but grab skaters from opposing teams with their hands, trip them, or throw elbows. Fighting is also against the rules, but a brawl seems to break out every other jam. When the bout started, I began to count the fistfights but lost track somewhere around six.

The bouts tonight have been heated. The doubleheader pits the Bombshells against a new team, the Runaway Brides, and the Coffin Draggers against the Schoolyard Scrappers. Everything leading up to the final 15-minute quarter of the Draggers/Scrappers bout (which the Scrappers ended up winning) has been dramatic.

There was a mini-dogpile in the first quarter of the Draggers/Scrappers match when four skaters careened into the audience, eliciting cheers from the maimed superfans, who seemed thrilled to suddenly have some half-dressed hot chicks landing in their laps. Then, there was the last half of the Bombshells/Runaway Brides match, which had to be stopped due to an injury.

The injured skater is one of the Bombshells and, unfortunately, also one of the women Joker's had coffee with. She's a cute redhead who goes by the name Hippie's Revenge. In the last two minutes of the Bombshells/Brides bout, I hear a huge splat to my left and look over to see a large crowd gathered around a body on the floor. I climb up onto the bench and see that it's Hippie lying there.

Joker is freaked-out. "No, no, that's not Hippie! Tell me that's not Hippie!"

"Joker, it's Hippie. I can see her orange ruffle-butt underwear from here."

Hippie's teammates scream for someone to get her an ice pack, and the announcers call out for an EMT over the PA (the Derby Dames wisely offer free admission for EMTs). Some firefighters make their way down to Hippie and lead her off the rink. The bout is stopped and declared a victory for the Runaway Brides, who were burying the Bombshells in points anyway. Joker has tears in her eyes.

Before we leave for Hazelwood's on Indian School Road (the Dames' official afterparty spot), the Coffin Draggers' Suzy Homewrecker — also one of the founders of AZ Derby Dames, also the hottest rockabilly-goth-punk-art chick I've ever seen — recognizes Joker from other bouts and comes up to say hello.

Joker is literally bouncing up and down in her car seat on the way to the bar. "Oh, my God. Suzy Homewrecker talked to me! Suzy Homewrecker. I think I'm a little wet. I need to take the top down and get some air."

When we arrive at Hazelwood's around 11:30, the inside of the sports bar is filled with frat guys drinking vodka/Red Bulls and singing karaoke. The patio is filled with derby girls and fans drinking Pabst Blue Ribbon and singing along to local artist G.K. Mack's acoustic covers of Sublime and the Violent Femmes.

Hippie's Revenge is one of the first skaters I see, and she grabs my hand right away. "I'm really dizzy," she tells me, as I lead her out to the back patio.

"I got kicked in the ear with a skate," she continues, bobbling a little bit. "And then somebody bumped into me here and spilled half my beer. Dammit."

Aside from being dizzy and without half her beer, Hippie seems to be okay. This doesn't stop Joker — whose dream is "to be a masseuse for the Derby Dames" — from coddling her and offering up her phone numbers in case Hippie "needs anything."

Joker says it's a rule that each of the derby girls must have health insurance, so she hopes Hippie will go to the doctor. She also gives me the entire history of our local leagues in mere minutes, speaking with the speed of an auctioneer and the convulsive energy of an epileptic rabbit. She tells me one of the things she thinks is so cool about roller derby is how the leagues have consistently grown since AZRD was founded in 2003. "I've had to park on the street and jump the wall to get into bouts before because it was so packed," she says. "It's great to see that, though, because most of these girls don't make money from this. They do it for the love of it."