It is the My Bloody Valentine bout. My team has been behind by 20, 30 points through the first half, and even into the second. Back of the second half, in the last fifteen minutes of the bout, we start *clawing* it back.
My line is up. I've told my line up manager, "Give me one of the hats" (make me the jammer (points scorer) or the pivot (backup)). She hands me the pivot, then says, "No, wait" and swaps it.
There is a minute and a half to go, we are down 145 to 130, and I've been told I'm responsible for scoring the points in what is likely the last jam of the game.
Two of the four opposing blockers are in the penalty box at the start of the jam. So it's two of their blockers and their jammer versus me and my full four. On the way out to the start, I told my blockers "Just sit on that jammer. Don't let them score. I'll take care of myself."
I *blitz* the two opposing blockers and make it out. Sprint a lap. Four points. Another lap, the blockers are back from the penalty box. I still manage to grab all four points and break out, sprinting around the track to get back.
Halfway through the next run, I get called on a forearm penalty and have to go to the box for thirty seconds, having only grabbed two points.
My time starts with 45 seconds to go in the game.
Seven seconds later, with 38 seconds left, the opposing jammer picks up their seventh and final penalty and must immediately stop playing. With me in the box, the entire jam is called dead.
The score is 145 to 140. A quick officials conference is called and they decide. One more jam. One more jam, and then the game is done. And my team's jammer is in the penalty box.
Whistle blows, and the pack of blockers *brawls*. They work their way down the track, almost up to where I am before I'm released. I re-enter behind the pack and immediately bust through. Sprint like my life depends on it and get back, grab four points. I can do this. I can do this. Sprint again while my blockers desperately keep the other jammer penned up.
And then I get *locked* inside the pack of opposing blockers. They have me *dead* to rights, and I need one point to tie and two to win. I score a point if my hips pass a blocker's hips.
And I *throw*. I juke. I dodge. I push like my life depends on it. Looking at my coaches, maybe they've seen that I got enough points and can call the jam off. Maybe. Please. One of them shouts "Keep going, you've got this".
Drop a shoulder and try to lever past a blocker. The whistles eventually blow. Jam called for hitting the two minute time limit.
I look at the scoreboard.
I managed to pick up 17 unanswered points in spite of a trip to the penalty box.
This was one of the best games of derby I've ever played in. Would have been even if we'd lost the last jam and thus the game.
I don't have words for how much I love this sport.
Love to both my team and the opposing team for a truly wonderful game. Extra love to my blockers on those last two jams: Byers Remorse, Slaughtermelon, Mazel Tough, and Baddy Long Legs for the first; Loose Cannon, Tricky Nicky, Wrecka Rinka (also an amazing captain!), and Slaughtermelon for a second time!
(Pics by the inestimable Leroy Armistead, and are from the entire bout not just the final couple jams)
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