The Tale of Coacheena
by Justice of the Peach
Coacheena Joy Rodrigo Consuela Constanza y Rodolfo Mildred Puto Electra Montcalm was born to a family of sheep herders in a small village in the Pyrenees Mountains. One day- sent from guarding her flocks in the sloping green vales of her family’s small hold fast- she headed into the local village to trade some ewe kidneys for the life sustaining twine her family needed to sheepshank their beasts, affix shingles onto the family hovel, and occasionally bind the unwary traveler for ransom money to pad their income. Through the dirty window of the taverna, on the screen of the town’s only television set, Coacheena saw the music video for Phil Collins, “Land of Confusion,” and decided then and there that she must go to America to become a backup dancer for the great man.
Coacheena’s world and dreams were rocked though when, upon returning home, her father announced she had been affianced to a local land baron, swarthy, rich and evil, who coveted her soft and demure ways and childbearing silhouette. This posed not a few problems. Not only had Coacheena JUST found her destiny like, 4 hours ago, she had also begun to experience some unsettling feelings whenever the local postmistress passed by on her bicycle, with the homespun linen of her uniform climbing up her thigh.
That night, as the moon scaled the ridge of Vignemale, Cheena decided it was time to pull a swift Irish goodbye and wriggled out the window of her room. Cropping her dark and lustrous locks close to her head in her now signature Johnny B spikes, Coacheena kissed her sleeping sheep goodbye, tucked her Saint Tupac medal under her tunic, and caught the fastest mule cart out of town, headed for the fishing port of Motril where she stowed away aboard a tramp steamer.
Unfortunately, “Tramp Steamer,” was not a designation of a type of boat, but rather a description of the cargo. Coacheena had unwittingly hidden herself amongst a crew of hurdy gurdy girls bound for the States. Nevertheless, surrounded as she was with silk and sequins, Coacheena soon won herself a spot as the dance troupes’ bouncer when she knocked a seaman unconscious with a loaf of stale bread as he made unwanted advances upon one of the women.
Upon reaching the States, Coacheena stayed for a time at the Golden Cheese Curd, in Madison, Wisconsin the club where her new friends were bound to be employed. She took names and busted heads with her bat dubbed “The Morale Improver,” a branch forged from a lightning struck peach tree and lovingly shaped by the robust bouncer. In time though, Coacheena, never forgetting her goal, headed West towards California and, she hoped, Phil Collins, a sack of prime rib slung on her back.
But it was not to be.
Surviving untold dangers, side tracks and an amusing instance where- trying to circumnavigate a particularly boring chunk of land- she agreed to ride in a biplane, whereupon she become so violently airsick over the side of the plane’s wings into a corn field she inspired the pilot, Lt. Harold R. Harris, to invent crop dusting- she finally made it as far as Colorado.
Exhausted, hair spikes drooping in defeat, Coacheena rolled into Denver. Falling asleep under a handicap ramp, the Morale Improver cradled in her arms like a suckling babe, she was awoken by a strange sound, as of a thousand bees or ball bearings roaring overhead. Groggily rubbing her head fuzz, she ambled up the ramp and peered through the window of a double door into a warehouse full of what looked like flying women. Coacheena stared in amazement, her nose pressed snub and porcine like against the glass.
Never in all her travels had she seen the like. Women in pads and helmets zooming past and whaling the snot out of each other. Coacheena pressed her face harder, breath fogging the glass, Phil Collins fading into a distant memory. Never had she felt such a hunger, except maybe that one time the butcher shop in Wisconsin had caught fire next to the Golden Cheese Curd and she’d eaten so much rib eye she had the meat sweats for 3 days.
When someone opened the door, Coacheena fell through it with a crash and landed at wheeled feet. All those confusing feelings she’d experienced with the postmistress suddenly made sense with a roaring intensity. She looked up into the eyes of a chesty, curly headed goddess named Chi Chi Chong, and knew she beheld her true destiny.
“Hi!” Said the skater helping her up, “Is that your club or are you just happy to see me?”
Coacheena made a sound that approximated a jelly fish being run over by a riding mower.
Undaunted by this, the skater continued to hold her hand, feeling the iron grip of someone who could single handedly wrassle’ an entire ram.
“Welcome to the Rocky Mountain Rollergirls!” Said the damsel.
“I’ve traveled a long way,” Said Coacheena taking the fair beauty’s hand.
“Well,” Replied Chi, “You’re home now.”
And it was so.
Coacheena and Chi Chi were married later that same day in the handicap stall of the men’s room, and Coacheena stayed on to coach every level of her newfound people, her skills at herding sheep becoming an instant asset.
She became beloved on Project Mayhem, grew her wings on Contenders, and stood strong and proud like the mountains of her homeland on Fight Club. Though a dedicated Coach to her spicy spouse’s home honchos the Dooms Daisies, she has stood in for all the Rocky Home Teams (except where she has illustrated a regrettable lack of taste, and unforgivable breach of etiquette by not appearing with fellow Mayhem coach Pool Boy, and The United States Pummeling Service.)
Coacheena’s willingness to grow alongside her skaters, her fathomless dedication, and her always up for it attitude has made her a much loved figure at RMRG. Whether picking a bar fight with a waitress at an away came in California, giving the side eye of Just-Wait-Until-I-Get-You-Alone-And-You’ll-See-How-Funny-You-Think-This-Is-Then to two members of her team (which has certainly never been her wife and the author) while brandishing the Morale Improver (which is real), or giving words of encouragement to a new player, Coacheena is steadfast, dauntless and good humored, like 84% of the time. RMRG is more than lucky to have her as part of leadership, part of the team, and part of the family.