Roller derbies sound like fun even when described in the barest of details. Women roller-skating around in circles. A rough-and-tumble competition of speed, skill, and strategy. Live music. Fishnets. So it didn't take much to convince a few friends to come along last Saturday, when the Roc City Roller Derby held a sold-out inaugural match at the Genesee Valley Sports Complex.

The majority of the crowd looked as badass as the players: lots of black, lots of tattoos, lots of beer. As we took our seats in the bleachers, the announcer introduced the team, one by one. They even explained the rules, but for the first 30 minutes I still didn't know what the hell was going on. By halftime, my friend Tom had it all down, and explained it to the rest of us.

Each half of the game - called a "bout" -- is a series of two-minute "jams," in which a "jammer" (the player with a star on her helmet) makes her way from the back of the pack to the front, scoring points for each opposing player she passes, and for each time she laps the group. She can end the jam by touching her hands to her hips, which ends up being this hard-to-miss spastic motion from hips to head to hips and back. There's more to a bout, but if you know that much, you can sort out the rest. And it's nice to at least know who your eyes should follow.

The bout itself wasn't as aggressive as we'd sadistically hoped. My guess is it's because the brawl was for charity, and involved a split Rochester team, rather than Roc City versus a team from another city. But it was still a thrill to watch. And each time one of the players took a tumble - which happened a lot -- the crowd never failed to illicit a sympathetic cry.

We also had our eyes on a small pack of young girls that bolted up and down the ramp in front of us - possible future contenders for the sport? -- and later, a group of  boys doing the same thing. They were full of energy, unlike my friends and I who were tired just watching the derby girls roll around in circles. We wondered if they were dizzy.

Next time we go to the derby, we'll splurge for suicide seats (folding chairs on the floor), where you can be closer to the action, and maybe actually be able to hear what the announcer is saying. Plus, they played some cool music, but I couldn't make out most of it (though I did recognize Dick Dale's "Miserlou").