The pack of skaters was set. Leggs was on her rubber toe awaiting the whistle. The crowd was going wild. THE WHISTLE BLEW and they were off!
With a determination I had not seen before, Leggs flew through the pack like they were invisible and burst out into the clear. The ref singled she was now a scoring machine and the crowd surged to their feet with a ROAR! I rose to my feet, caught in the ground swell of emotion and screamed, "GO LEGGS!!!! GO!!!!"
But time was running out. 35... 34... 33...
Turn after turn they went. The slow pack waiting like the Germans on the shores of Normandy for the Americans to land and be slaughtered... but we had Leggs!
32... 31... 30...
"GO LEGGS GO!!!!!!!!!!" I was beside myself. She was catching them but would she have time...
18...17...16... She needed to pass all four of her opponents to win the game since they were down by three.
15...14...13... She was one curve away from the peloton which not could feel her coming and was fighting furiously in the straightaway right in front of me... she would catch them but would there be enough time!
12...11...10... The crowd starting counting down. It was deafening.
9... 8... 7... LEGGS WAS INCHES FROM THEIR FIRST GIRL IN THE FAR TURN... SUDDENLY, IN THE BLINK OF AN EYE, SHE WAS PAST HER!!!! ONE DOWN, THREE TO GO.
6... 5... 4... AND ANOTHER!!! ONLY TWO MORE GIRLS STOOD BETWEEN LEGGS AND A TRIP TO THE FINALS IN TWO WEEKS, THE SUPERBOWL OF ROLLER DERBY!
THEY WERE SET UP, RIPE TO BE PASSED, CAUGHT IN A WEB OF FEMALE BEEF, BUT THE TWO BIGGEST GIRLS ON MANHATTAN FORMED A BRICK WALL, LEGGS TRIED TO GO LOW AND PASS THEM ON THE OUTSIDE...
3...2... SHE'S PASSED THEM!!!! SHE'S PASSED THEM!!!!!
No. She's tripped, fallen, and skidded into the front seats.
1....ENNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN the final buzzer sounded.
Un-fucking-believable. "THAT WAS A FOUL" I screamed at the refs but it fell on deaf ears. They had already made their official finding. Bombshells 2. Mayhem 0 on that final jam. We had lost by 1. 70-69
The teams hugged it out. They seemed to truly have love and respect for each other though it was clear Brooklyn was heartbroken. Friends and family came out of the stands to congratulate and console their derby loved ones. I milled around on the sidelines contemplating my tact. I realized the track wasn't off limits anymore so I made a b-line for Leggs.
She was surrounded by 5 people, two teammates and three twenty something guys with scruff and ink sleeves. Two of the guys seemed like friends, the third a possible suitor. He had the same slightly awkward hand-in-pocket-trying-to-look-cool-when-really-feeling-scared vibe that I had. But was doing it in Elvis Costello glasses and with twenty less years of practice than I. The downside being he didn't pull it off as well as I did, the upside being he didn't because he was twenty years younger. There wasn't going to be an opening unless like the bold Jammer Leggs was, I battered my way through the scrum and scored with my own guile and gumption and sheer will. In the middle of a teammate telling her how great she was I made my move.
"Oh my God! That was ridiculous! You SO won that game! That was a total foul!"
She looked at me with a polite, slightly shy smile, or did she hate me. I couldn't quite tell.
"Thank you. I know. Did you like the game?"
"Oh my God, it was amazing. You were amazing."
"Thank you." More fans came over and grabbed her attention. I tried one last time...
"So I may be dating myself but I used to go to the Garden and see the original girls in the seventies." She only half heard that. "Oh really?" She wasn't into me. Especially now that by telling her I used to watch roller derby before her parents had even met, I had busted my own youthful appearance as being a myth, the truth being I was old. I waved and said, "See ya around." She waved and smiled again, politely.
I found Ginger Snap. "I don't think she likes me."
"Awwww," she said sympathetically. "Come to the party. We have lots of other single roller girls."
"I don't know. I love Leggs. I don't want to stand around getting rejected in a bar full of people who all know each other."
"Alright. Well. I tried."
"I know. Thanks a lot. You're sweet." And with that, I headed for the exit. But then my will to win came back and I thought I might be being a baby and that maybe Leggs had just been overwhelmed by the situation or shy or who the fuck knows. So, I decided to give it another chance. I got my "I heart Leggs Luthor" sign and scribbled a note on the back telling her about this website and telling her she should call me and we should have a tea sometime and that I would be writing about her here. I found Ginger Snap and gave her the note to give to Leggs and then left.
I called Donny and my friend Alison but no one was around. It was a beautiful cold fall Friday night. My favorite. Hundreds of happening people all hung out in front of Hunter College making hip plans for cool things to do with each other. I started sliding into a deep depression. Fucking high school all over again, where even though I had lots of friends, I always felt like I didn't or they didn't really like me. Like alone they could, but in a crowd weren't allowed to admit it. I walked West toward Madison Avenue. I pulled my hoodie over my head and got really really sad.
When the fuck would a girl I liked, like me back. That's all I ask for. Why couldn't Leggs have given me a stronger hand shake when I introduced myself. ( I forgot to tell you, before I made the "I used to go to the old roller derby" comment, I had introduced myself, "Hey. I'm Eric," I said. "Leggs," she said and gave me a limp handshake as her friend caught her attention by saying, "Hey Dana, you were great. I'll call you."
Dana? Her real name is Dana and I get Leggs? What, her stripper name? Now I'm such a loser fan that I can't even know her fucking real first name? Anyway, so that was that)
So I walked north on Madison and just felt like shit. Why couldn't "Dana" have grabbed me by the arm, no matter how bummed from just having lost the game and said, "Come to the party." That's all. She knew I liked her and thought she was cute, why couldn't she like me and think I was cute and want me around to see if we'd hit it off. Is that so fucking outlandish to want? I have met a couple really hot, amazing, smart, sweet women lately and had a lot of fun with them and deeply value knowing them but the mutual chemistry hasn't been there. That isn't anyone's fault so I guess this is that again... But it just feels so exhausting sometimes.
I don't know why this was affecting me so much. I realized it wasn't actually about Leggs, I didn't even know her. But it was the dredging up of a lifetime of wounds set off by the whole night, and the death of the hope of love once again. Tears flooded my eyes and made the lights in the store windows glow like a kaleidoscope. I wanted to drink. I wanted to drink and shoot heroin. I've been sober for 23 years and I have never before, in all those years, wanted to get fucked up like I wanted to get fucked in that moment. If I was down at that after party drinking and snorting heroin with Leggs and her friends, she'd be mine, and if she wasn't, I wouldn't care less. Maybe I should go down there. I was scared. This wasn't good. Maybe I would get fucked up tonight.
To be continued...
Posted by Eric Schaeffer at 10:53 AM