Random Derby Wisdom

Derby wisdom comes at odd times and places.  Like sitting on the floor after a scrimmage, sending snarky #FML texts to our strength and endurance coach. Here’s the thing: I don’t enjoy scrimmaging.  I love derby, don’t get me wrong. I love watching it, talking about it, playing and practicing whatever there is to practice. I don’t mind getting hit or getting knocked down, and I love knowing that those sore muscles and bruises came from really hard work. But I’m not consistently effective in a scrimmage situation, and I don’t completely know why, other than inexperience. And it’s hard not to let it get to me; hard not to let the memory of suckage carry over to the next scrimmage, no matter how much I try to pump myself up.  This is one of those I-never-played-a-team-sport things, I’m sure, and it might have as much to do with sports psychology than skills, but walking out of a scrimmage feeling like the Queen of Suckistan makes for a very snarky Snarker.

Yeah, so the cure is more scrimmaging, right? Bring it on, yo. Whatever. It can’t get worse, and I’ll take that.

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