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Roller derby with L.A. twist

As the sport resurges nationwide, the Derby Dolls pack a full house in Filipinotown.

OUT THERE

June 13, 2008|Scott Gold, Times Staff Writer

The hipsters have taken to calling it "Hi-Fi," but long stretches of Historic Filipinotown are quiet after dark. Even on a Saturday night, the only sound is the purr of the cars passing overhead on the 101; the only action is an old man pushing a shopping cart, a child's pinwheel stuck in the end of his bedroll.

You've been told this is the place, so you turn in, off Temple Street. There is no sign. It's a dingy warehouse where they used to manufacture ice cream cones; now it's choked with graffiti and encircled with shredded tarps. Step inside, though, and there's little question you're in the right spot. The first thing you see, after all, is a glorious, mirrored disco ball hanging from the rafters, in the shape of a roller skate.


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The crowd, in overalls and bustiers, some with purple hair, some with no hair at all, is feverish. It's so loud you can barely hear yourself drink. One woman is in a full Mardi Gras headdress; her date is wearing a Cookie Monster costume. The VIP section is cordoned off with yellow police tape.

The heroes here are all women. Their uniforms are ripped stockings and knee socks. Their names are Eva Destruction and Tara Armov. Their passion is roller derby, which -- long after being swept into the dustbin of kitsch, alongside Evel Knievel and that movie where Clint Eastwood is pals with an orangutan -- is back.

Riding a national resurgence, the L.A. Derby Dolls have been building momentum since holding their first event in 2004. The league has held its events on a roof in Chinatown and inside a mall in Little Tokyo but exploded in popularity after moving into this warehouse, northwest of downtown Los Angeles, in October.

The move doubled the crowd capacity to about 1,700, and every event held here since -- there is a match every month or so -- has sold out, said one of the founders, league president Rebecca "Demolicious" Ninburg.

"At some point it's like: Who wants to go watch a bunch of millionaires? The crowd can relate to us," said Else "Evil E" Duff, 38, who recently became the match announcer after breaking her ankle while playing. "Tomorrow, all these girls will be back here cleaning up. When you put your heart and soul into something, it shows."

The Dolls are one of the best-known of the 275 or so roller derby leagues that have sprung up around the country in the last few years, but like virtually all of them, this one was founded on gritty, do-it-yourself spirit.

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