Roller Derby Revivin'

A sport from the past just keeps rolling along.

CBS News Correspondent Lee Cowan reports that roller derby is back, as dizzy, and dizzying as ever.

There was a time, he notes, when roller derby ruled the rink, when fans stacked the stands, and cheered 'til their throats went raw.

Roller derby was, by anyone's account, an event.

There was "roller radio" back in the '40s.

And by the time TV had turned color, the increasingly rowdy roller derby was drawing near sellout crowds to arenas such as the Oakland Coliseum and Madison Square Garden.

It was even making the silver screen: Remember Raquel Welch in "Kansas City Bomber"?

The sport had found a following, or a following had found it, Cowan observes.

Either way, people were coming for more than just slams and jams. They were coming to see the stars, such as San Francisco's Ann Calvello, of the Southern Stars, who was known as "the meanest mama on skates."

Today, she's in her 70s, and as feisty as ever.

When Cowan asked whether she was getting hit in a particular play in the late '60s, Calvello responded, "Well, we're not playing tiddlywinks!"

Over the course of her seven decades of derby, Calvello suffered 12 broken noses, four broken elbows, a broken collar bone, broken tail bone, cracked ribs, and a host of things that, at age 75, she'd rather not think about.

But boy, was she good.

"I jumped," she tells Cowan, "from the floor at a dead standstill and landed on (an opponent)."

"You landed on her?" Cowan asked.

"Well," Calvello responded, "I knocked her down, and if she didn't get out the way, too bad. If it was me, I'd be under her! What do you think this is, marbles?"

But, as popular as she was, as popular as the sport was, roller derby was one of the casualties of the '70s, Cowan points out.

"I said then," Calvello recalls, " 'roller derby is over. It had its run, and no matter who tries to start up or any other leagues or anything, it's not going to be the same.' "

There were various roller reincarnations, Cowan says, like one in the late '90s, called Roller Jam. It was fast paced, flashy, even sexy. But it, like the others, went the way of the four-wheeled skate.

But, Cowan says, Derby fans are diehards and, where there's a rink, there's resolve.

Now, roller derby is being brought back with a twist: no men allowed, in all-women's roller derby in Austin, known as the Texas Rollergirls

It's a sport heavy on tattoos, and light on lingerie, uncensored and undignified, on purpose.One fan, Corey Underwood, describes it to Cowan as "getting to see girls rolling around fighting, having a blast. The whole thing's pretty good."

But, Cowan comments, pretty raunchy.

"My mom thinks I'm insane, and my dad thinks it's kinda cool, actually," reveals Texas Rollergirl "Electra Blue."

As in the original roller derby, Cowan explains, players score points by passing members of the opposing team and, like the original, it can get pretty brutal.

Believe it or not, Cowan says, there are rules, although they're hard to figure out. And if you break those rules, you also get punished, believe it or not.

That punishment? A roll down "Spank Alley," where paddle-wielding fans rule the penalty box, one paddle, one victim at a time.

Brenda Delaney, a first-time spectator visiting from Laramie, Wyo., wasn't quite sure what to make of it all, admitting it probably wouldn't fly in her hometown.

Sociologists would have a field day with roller derby, Cowan asserts. It's a great case study in alter egos: Every roller queen has a rink name, and a rink persona, which are usually worlds apart.

Take Virginia Evans, a lab assistant with a degree in biochemistry who was looking for a way to blow off a little steam: "I do get a lot of my aggression out, and it's better than over here...keeping it on the rink."

There, she's known as "Cheap Trixie," not a name her mom might be proud of, but a perfect one for a sport where we're talking fishnets, not hairnets.

"I'm kinda more toned down in the lab," Evans concedes. "When I get here, I can really be myself, an extreme, extreme Virginia kinda thing."

Then there's Theresa Pappas, a buttoned-down network administrator who spends most of her days in relative solitude: "As a woman in this position, I try to be as professional as I possibly can."

But on the rink, she's known as "Betty Rage."

Says Pappas, "Anything where you physically assert yourself gets your aggression out, but this is even more fun. 'cause you get to knock people down. Imagine it was your co-workers or whatever, ya know!"

None of them get paid, Cowan points out. Only bruised. And the bouts, complete with fights, can as dirty as the thoughts they conjure up.

"I kinda have that mantra in my head when I get out there, like, 'Be mean, be mean! Hit people!' " admits Annie Buchanan-Clary, who normally works for an AIDS organization. But in the rink, she's known as "Dirty Deeds" on skates.

With a name like that, observes Cowan, perhaps it's not surprising that she's been sidelined with a detached retina.

"Ya know," Buchanan-Clary says with a laugh, "such is life when you play a sport where you get the crap beat out of you, right?"

It's all action fans are willing to pay to see -- and not just in Texas. There are more than 20 new leagues all across the country, bringing roller rinks much needed revenue, and even respect.

And like before, Cowan notes, it's the stars who bring 'em in the door.

Skaters such as Amy Sherman, AKA "Elektra Blue," make no apologies for their conduct, dress, or attitude.

"I think," she says, "it's very ladylike. Actually, I find it very empowering as a woman to be strong and athletic."

Adds Pappas, the star who goes by "Betty Rage": "I'm a lady most of the time, but I can be a kick-ass woman on the track on the weekends."

There are whispers of the past from a sport that was hardly ever quiet, Cowan says.

"You're not supposed to be ladylike out there," Calvello contends.

"I'm not out there for that, (or) I would have went into the Ice Follies," she said with a chuckle.

And no one is beaming more broadly than Calvello: "Each one of these young ladies that are doing this now, got a little bit of me in 'em."

So, sums up Cowan, say what you will about the fights, the fans, and the fishnets: However you look at it, roller derby still seems to be a sport with legs, in more ways than one.