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dragonlady7Don't have time to say all I want to say, at present. Drove out to my folks' place with 13 people, mostly Dollies, to see the Albany Allstars' first home game. Their two teams, the Skateomasochists vs. the Department of Public Hurts, duked it out in the Washington Ave. Armory. Close bout; the first period, the Skatos dominated (har), in the second period things were a bit more even, and then suddenly in the third period the DPH got some kind of fire lit under their ass, and started capitalizing on the other team's mistakes and also their jammers suddenly got a whole lot scrappier. Desperation? Motivation? The fact that all the QCRGs were shrieking at them to pack it up and hit those girls?
Somehow most of us wound up rooting for the DPH, despite the fact that the Skatos had the same uniform as the Dollies. Everyone loves an underdog? I dunno. The DPH turned out to be a collection of sweet-natured girls, to be sure; though I'm sure the Skatos were nice too, I didn't speak to any of them at length. The afterparty was akin to a tin of sardines only larger, darker, and with more alcohol and, well, more people and fewer fish. I fetched up next to one of the refs, and spoke to him for hours. It was fascinating.
I had recognized his name and wondered how it was that I knew of a ref in a league who's never bouted before. Hambone. Hambone? Why do I know Hambone?
Oh. He refs for Gotham.
He and a couple of his cohorts there have made it their mission to travel to other derby leagues and ref as many games as they possibly can. They bragged, in that happy way that geeks brag of geeky things, that they'd reffed in dozens of states, hundreds of games, every start-up league on the East Coast, etc.
"You've never been to Buffalo," I said.
They looked thoughtful.
We're a very isolated league, I realized.
I was also shocked, shocked to hear that while Gotham isn't quite struggling, they are having a much harder time than most leagues at getting sponsors, local recognition, and a consistent fan base. They consistently sold out their small venue and moved to a larger one in a less-nice neighborhood, only to find that their so-called fans weren't willing to venture into Harlem, and so they languished at half-capacity. Seriously, they were only drawing six hundred people. Yo. We did better than that in Buffalo as a start-up. In North fucking Tonawanda.
I was somewhat bummed to hear about this-- dude, it's fucking Gotham-- but, I mean, oh well. I was also encouraged; I mean, here he is, this roller derby celebrity, and he's super psyched to come visit Buffalo and he's thinking yeah we should play and he's volunteering to bring their sport court skating surface if we hold an invitational in a venue in Buffalo that doesn't have a suitable floor. I mean, how nice could he have been?
And I'm all, man my league is so isolated, what's wrong with us, why don't we reach out to the community at large more, who is responsible for this, and then I looked at my business card as I was handing it to him, and said... Oh. I'm the fucking Public Relations manager. What's my fucking deal?
I don't know.
So anyway. I've got to start reaching out to the community at large more, duh. And also? Gothamites? Support your local roller derby team. Do I have to say it??? They're #5 in the nation and have never played any of the teams ranked above them, except a weird bout with Carolina a while back in which neither did very well, Gotham because of a complete lack of a practice space and Carolina because of a car accident that injured their three best players... So yeah. Awesome team, huge city, little support. I'm ashamed, as a former area resident.
Also apparently they're super nice people.
In other news it was nice to see my mom and dad, and Roon and Ginger, but Snick... Snick is nearly 20 years old. Late last week his consumption of food dropped sharply. He became much less active, and would insist on tottering down the stairs to go sit under the side porch with the kitten, Ghost. Finally Saturday morning he could not walk, but was sitting in a chair and could do no more than raise his head. I petted him when we arrived that afternoon, and he was like a skeleton with fur. His breathing was somewhat labored, but consistent. Ginger snuggled with him a bit. Mom and Dad took him up to their room for the night, and he survived and they brought him back down this morning. Mom managed to get him to drink a bit of heavy cream, and some water, but he had trouble even with that, and could not manage the cream cheese she offered.
If he were a young cat, they would have rushed him to the vet on Friday afternoon when his gait became unsteady, but as it is, the vet with whom they are comfortable (the other one was horrible about Snick being uncooperative at taking pills; pills are Snick's one sticking point, but he is agreeable about all else) does not work on weekends, and what will they find out anyway? He is twenty, and has been steadily declining for several years, slowly but surely. They will take him to the vet tomorrow, and see then. He does not seem to be suffering, but has always been an active and outspoken cat; it is unlikely that he is happy to be unable to get up or speak.
I petted him and kissed him this morning; I could not tell, as he raised his head to regard me, what he thought. He did not lash his tail, as he had always done whether in annoyance or pleasure. Perhaps the vet will say, he is merely dehydrated or needs this thing or that thing, but it is unlikely. He is very old, his muscles have all wasted away with age, and he has spent the last week revisiting his favorite places and having silent slow conversations with his fellows, Ghost and Roon and Ginger and the barn cat. He no longer hisses or growls at the barn cat, but sat companionably beside him for hours on Thursday. It is likely that it will soon be his time to depart, at least this life.
A sad leavetaking, but not premature. And perhaps it is just dehydration or constipation or somesuch. We will know soon.
Somehow most of us wound up rooting for the DPH, despite the fact that the Skatos had the same uniform as the Dollies. Everyone loves an underdog? I dunno. The DPH turned out to be a collection of sweet-natured girls, to be sure; though I'm sure the Skatos were nice too, I didn't speak to any of them at length. The afterparty was akin to a tin of sardines only larger, darker, and with more alcohol and, well, more people and fewer fish. I fetched up next to one of the refs, and spoke to him for hours. It was fascinating.
I had recognized his name and wondered how it was that I knew of a ref in a league who's never bouted before. Hambone. Hambone? Why do I know Hambone?
Oh. He refs for Gotham.
He and a couple of his cohorts there have made it their mission to travel to other derby leagues and ref as many games as they possibly can. They bragged, in that happy way that geeks brag of geeky things, that they'd reffed in dozens of states, hundreds of games, every start-up league on the East Coast, etc.
"You've never been to Buffalo," I said.
They looked thoughtful.
We're a very isolated league, I realized.
I was also shocked, shocked to hear that while Gotham isn't quite struggling, they are having a much harder time than most leagues at getting sponsors, local recognition, and a consistent fan base. They consistently sold out their small venue and moved to a larger one in a less-nice neighborhood, only to find that their so-called fans weren't willing to venture into Harlem, and so they languished at half-capacity. Seriously, they were only drawing six hundred people. Yo. We did better than that in Buffalo as a start-up. In North fucking Tonawanda.
I was somewhat bummed to hear about this-- dude, it's fucking Gotham-- but, I mean, oh well. I was also encouraged; I mean, here he is, this roller derby celebrity, and he's super psyched to come visit Buffalo and he's thinking yeah we should play and he's volunteering to bring their sport court skating surface if we hold an invitational in a venue in Buffalo that doesn't have a suitable floor. I mean, how nice could he have been?
And I'm all, man my league is so isolated, what's wrong with us, why don't we reach out to the community at large more, who is responsible for this, and then I looked at my business card as I was handing it to him, and said... Oh. I'm the fucking Public Relations manager. What's my fucking deal?
I don't know.
So anyway. I've got to start reaching out to the community at large more, duh. And also? Gothamites? Support your local roller derby team. Do I have to say it??? They're #5 in the nation and have never played any of the teams ranked above them, except a weird bout with Carolina a while back in which neither did very well, Gotham because of a complete lack of a practice space and Carolina because of a car accident that injured their three best players... So yeah. Awesome team, huge city, little support. I'm ashamed, as a former area resident.
Also apparently they're super nice people.
In other news it was nice to see my mom and dad, and Roon and Ginger, but Snick... Snick is nearly 20 years old. Late last week his consumption of food dropped sharply. He became much less active, and would insist on tottering down the stairs to go sit under the side porch with the kitten, Ghost. Finally Saturday morning he could not walk, but was sitting in a chair and could do no more than raise his head. I petted him when we arrived that afternoon, and he was like a skeleton with fur. His breathing was somewhat labored, but consistent. Ginger snuggled with him a bit. Mom and Dad took him up to their room for the night, and he survived and they brought him back down this morning. Mom managed to get him to drink a bit of heavy cream, and some water, but he had trouble even with that, and could not manage the cream cheese she offered.
If he were a young cat, they would have rushed him to the vet on Friday afternoon when his gait became unsteady, but as it is, the vet with whom they are comfortable (the other one was horrible about Snick being uncooperative at taking pills; pills are Snick's one sticking point, but he is agreeable about all else) does not work on weekends, and what will they find out anyway? He is twenty, and has been steadily declining for several years, slowly but surely. They will take him to the vet tomorrow, and see then. He does not seem to be suffering, but has always been an active and outspoken cat; it is unlikely that he is happy to be unable to get up or speak.
I petted him and kissed him this morning; I could not tell, as he raised his head to regard me, what he thought. He did not lash his tail, as he had always done whether in annoyance or pleasure. Perhaps the vet will say, he is merely dehydrated or needs this thing or that thing, but it is unlikely. He is very old, his muscles have all wasted away with age, and he has spent the last week revisiting his favorite places and having silent slow conversations with his fellows, Ghost and Roon and Ginger and the barn cat. He no longer hisses or growls at the barn cat, but sat companionably beside him for hours on Thursday. It is likely that it will soon be his time to depart, at least this life.
A sad leavetaking, but not premature. And perhaps it is just dehydration or constipation or somesuch. We will know soon.
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no subject
Date: 2008-02-25 06:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-25 06:22 pm (UTC)