May 10, 1997—Former roller-derby star Joanie Weston, whose immense
athleticism was overshadowed by contests that stressed fan-pleasing fistfights
and hair-pulling, died at age 62 at her Hayward, Calif., home of Creutzfeldt-Jakob
disease, a rare brain disorder.
In the early 1970s, as I grew weary of the
increasing demands of the upper grades in my elementary school (heavier
homework loads, more advanced math), I looked forward to watching our TV on Saturday
mornings. I had moved beyond the still-standard cartoon fare of that time of
week.
But I had inexplicably found a show that, like school, called for more attention (mine) and a higher skill set
(someone else’s) than, say, Bugs Bunny, but which, in contrast with my academic
pursuits, was decidedly entertaining.
Roller derby had attained a zenith from which it would fall
precipitously. It was not only reaching 120 cities through syndication but it
was being mentioned in publications such as Sports
Illustrated (e.g., this classic 1969 overview of the sport by the great Frank Deford), songs by Jim Croce, and
even a film, Kansas City Bomber
(whose reason for being perhaps had less to do with the sport’s inherent skills
than with the anatomical charms of star Raquel Welch).
Leo Seltzer had conceived roller derby as a
continuation of the transcontinental roller-rink “marathons” common during the
Depression—then picked up on rules suggested by the great sportswriter-fiction
writer Damon Runyon to bring about the modern sport. Seltzer’s son Jerry raised
the sport's profile in the Fifties and Sixties by arranging widespread
television coverage.
There seemed no reason why, like football in the same
decades, this rough-and-tumble pastime might not become far, far bigger very
soon.
The sport to which roller derby was compared was
wrestling, mostly because of its inevitable brawls.
But while I could care less
about guys with rolls of muscle alternating with fat thumping each other on the
mat, I was fascinated by roller derby. It was, like ice hockey, all a matter of
speed and movement, and like ice hockey in those years it also had its share of
fights (hello, Derek Sanderson?).
But I loved how the two teams in their helmets and
shorts circled the banked tracks in whip-fast phalanxes, as so-called “jammers”
probed for an opening as they tried to “lap” the opposition. Charlie O’Connell,
lean, strong and disdainful (think of the New York Mets’ Dave Kingman on
skates), ruled the men’s side of the sport. Joanie Weston, as “pivot” (the
controller of the action) of the San Francisco Bay Bombers, was queen of the
women’s side.
Only a year or two after I had started watching it,
roller derby had largely disappeared from the airwaves, a victim of financial troubles. I had gone on to other
things—high school and adolescence—and hadn’t noticed its passing.
It wasn’t
until I picked up Deford’s appreciation of the life of Weston in the New York Times Magazine 14 years ago
that I thought again about the sport, and its great female star.
Away from arenas, Deford revealed, Weston was a sweet, nun-educated,
pretty young woman who, while traveling the exhibition circuit, loved to cuddle at night in one of
those lonely Holiday Inns with a mixed-breed canine named Malia.
But once she
strapped on her skates and helmets, preparing for no-holds-barred action in which
she might block one minute and sprint as the jammer in another, she was something else entirely:
“[O]n the banked track, she was transformed. Hear it
now: No. 38 in your program, No. 1 in your hearts. The Blond Bomber --- 5 foot
10, 165 pounds, strong and agile, as superb a female athlete as ever there was.
She kept her hair strawberry blond and a scarf knotted around her neck to make
her as stylishly feminine as her (wonderfully) tacky orange and black attire
permitted. Never mind. Swirling, pounding, commanding, she looked the best part
of a Viking queen, sallying forth.”
Weston’s prime occurred before Title IX was passed 40 years ago. Who knows how many remunerative athletic doors it might have opened for her?
Weston’s prime occurred before Title IX was passed 40 years ago. Who knows how many remunerative athletic doors it might have opened for her?
One sport other than roller derby in which she was
undisputedly dominant was softball. The story goes that, in one game,
Weston hit eight home runs for St. Mary’s College in Los Angeles—and was ready
to try for another when she was told by the nuns running her school that if she
hit it, she would be excommunicated!
Nowadays, if you want to see a blond Valkyrie wage
uninhibited combat against all comers, you have to catch Laura Ingraham subbing
for Bill O’Reilly on Fax News. What the spectacle gains in decibels, it loses
in dynamic images—a sorry tradeoff, if you ask me.
I understand that roller derby has undergone something of a revival this past decade, only this time playing down the wrestling-like antics. I think Weston would have approved.
I understand that roller derby has undergone something of a revival this past decade, only this time playing down the wrestling-like antics. I think Weston would have approved.
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