COOS BAY - Forget satin dresses. Forget ballroom dancing. And don't even dare think about handing them a pair of toe shoes. These are the kind of women who are willing to get into a scrape. Well, as long as they have a pair of roller skates beneath them.

And with names like Madame Doom, Zombie Trash and Scarlett Hyde, who'd question them?

The women of roller derby have come to Coos County to create a league of their own. It has become a renaissance for the rough-and-tumble contact sport, where women assume alter egos and ram, slam and jam their way through the slower traffic - all while wearing fishnet stockings.

“They're really fast and strong. They wear really tight clothes and you can be a villain or a hero,” said Dolly McMahan.

McMahan, aka “Dolly Demented,” is one of two women who created the Coos County Roller Girls earlier this year. She is also the wife of the league's coach, Jimmy “Bela Lugreasy” McMahan.

“It's like Halloween. You get to be someone else.”

But becoming part of the roller derby phenomenon is more than being a bad ass on wheels for McMahan, co-founder Brandi Jaques, aka “French Wench,” and their teammates. It's a chance to be around like-minded women and to be an individual within a team setting.

“It brings together a variety of different people and that's what we were looking for,” said Jaques, who wore bright red lipstick and a short black skirt over stockings and knee pads.

“It's so much more fun than standing on a treadmill,” added McMahan, admitting she hates going to the gym. “If you don't come, you'll have people calling you. If you don't go to the gym, nobody cares.

“For a bunch of girls, the camaraderie is crazy.”

The sport

Including its founders, there are nine members in this league's one team. A minimum of 12 women are necessary to make a competitive team, and most leagues contain four. But the group only has been together since early February and is working on recruiting “fresh meat,” said McMahan Saturday at the Sunset Middle School Hockey Rink, where the women practice Wednesday and Saturday evenings. She said it may be a year before the Coos County Roller Girls participates in a competitive bout, as the next season begins March 2008.

During practice that night, team members attempted a variety of moves they will use in future bouts, such as squatting and staying together in one group to block an opposing skater from breaking through.

A bout of roller derby is broken into four, 20-minute periods in which five skaters per team are allowed on the circuit track. The five players take on a variety of roles, including the jammer, who scores points for her team by breaking through the pack. For each woman she passes on the opposing team, the jammer earns an additional point. Three of the skaters act as blockers, who use any legal means necessary to prevent the opposing jammer from getting ahead. The pivot, the fifth player, maintains and controls the speed of the pack.

While the skaters do elbow and shove their way around the track, occasionally fighting as they jockey for a better position, McMahan said the sport isn't nearly as rough and tumble as it looks.

“It's a big show,” McMahan said, adding she and her teammates practice mock fighting and prat falls to keep their bouts enthralling. “Girls do get hurt, but it seems they mostly get hurt when they're not wearing their protective gear.”

However, roller derby of the 1950s, '60s and '70s was more akin to a World Wrestling Federation match with canned drama, mock rivalries and predetermined winners, than it is today, she said. Back then, a good and evil team would go head-to-head in a bout, and like most spaghetti westerns, the white hats always won.

“It's more of a real sport (now),” McMahan said. “We don't know who is going to win or lose. It's everybody giving their all.”

According to Wikipedia.com, the “wrestling/circus-like approach doomed all of roller games,” eventually causing many skaters and their fans to desert arenas.

But in 2000, roller derby made a comeback when the Texas Roller Girls founded the Women's Flat Track Derby Association, and brought the sport back to life.

Seven years later there are more than 250 leagues in the nation, and 6,358 participants - including referees, scorekeepers and other officials. Men are allowed to participate as coaches or in other supporting roles, but only women, 18 years old or older, are allowed to roll.

Including the Coos County Roller Girls, there are four registered leagues in the state - in Bend, Eugene and Portland. Teams within a league don't normally compete against each other, except to determine seeding for upcoming bouts with other leagues.

Alter egos

McMahan said the women of roller derby will do nearly whatever they can to get ahead, but no one wants to see another player get hurt. Watching one of her teammates cautiously skate across the rink, McMahan almost immediately realized the pink-tressed young woman wasn't wearing all of her gear.

“Where's your helmet, Alice?!” she asked. “Jumping Jesus on a pogo stick, go put it on!”

While it is a team sport, roller derby stresses individuality, McMahan said. Each player picks a pseudonym that is then registered so no one else can share it.

“We all have alter egos like superheroes,” McMahan said.

Even the uniforms are often a variation of a theme rather than a regimented outfit. For example, the team members in “Guns N Rollers,” a team from Portland, the players all wear 1980s-themed outfits. Whether that means big hair, head bands or other such accouterments, it's up to them.

McMahan and Jaques said their team has yet to pick a name, theme or uniform for its first team. They plan to wait until they have a full group of players to make the decision a democratic one.

Getting started

McMahan, a 26-year-old wife and mother of two from San Diego County, said she would often watch roller derby on television, but she never participated in the sport until this year.

“They didn't have roller derby when I was a kid,” said McMahan, who sported a Bettie Page haircut and magenta streaks that offset her ink-black tresses. “It's kind of subculture and I'm into that. I've never been into team sports.”

After meeting Jaques, the two women became fast friends and McMahan shared her desire to become a roller derby girl. But the turning point for the two women came with a pair of tickets to see a bout in Portland.

“For me it was the personas. I like that,” Jaques said.

They began skating together at Mingus Park and on the boardwalk, and slowly recruited other players through word-of-mouth. They also received advice from “Rocket Mean” the president of Portland's Rose City Rollers, and picked up manuals to bring the Coos County Roller Girls one step closer to becoming a real league. Then, a friend suggested they practice at the roller hockey rink near the middle school.

“It was perfect. A shining beacon in the night, your eyes popping like hearts like that wolf,” McMahan said of the rink with a laugh. “We just started telling people and they just started to show up.”

They recruited Jessica Fromme, a real estate appraiser by day, along with other friends, babysitters and anyone else interested.

Fromme said she decided to join the team because she wanted an outlet that would give her a fun way to exercise while being with friends.

“It's something to do other than sitting at a desk,” said Fromme, aka Kat Pow-er. “I look forward to hanging out with the girls twice a week. It's such a mix of different people that you don't normally get to know and hang with.”

After every practice, Fromme said she may have helmet hair, but she feels as if she's done something good for herself.

“When I get done I have all the energy in the world. My body is tired but I feel very wide awake and crisp,” Fromme said.

Scott Gregory, Jaques' husband, said he first thought his wife was “crazy” when he learned of her roller derby dreams, but he soon learned how dedicated she was to the sport and making it a reality in the area.

“They've got a lot of heart,” Gregory said of the entire team.