At practice Thursday night their names are Amanda, Carrie, Emily, Jenna and Rebecca.

When the Charlotte Speed Demons play their roller derby home opener Saturday night they will still be Amanda, Carrie, Emily, Jenna and Rebecca. They might be one of only two roller derby teams in the United States (the other is in Richmond) that disdains fake names and costumes.

They don't want to be professional wrestling. They don't want fans to think their sport is fake.

USA Roller Sports is pushing roller derby as a candidate for the 2020 Olympics. Two sports will be added in 2020 and others will be dropped.

Is there room in the Olympic Village for a jammer? If I were a speed walker, I'd be looking over my narrow shoulder.

"Roller derby can be like racing," says Craig Bailey, president of the Speed Demons, one of the owners and a NASCAR fan. "You're on the edge of your seat because so much is happening so quickly and you don't know what will happen next."

Everything I know about Roller Derby I learned from Raquel Welch in "Kansas City Bombers," a 1972 film that is considered by many, or at least one, to be her finest work.

"Oh my God, that has to be the worst movie ever made," says Jenna Klauk, a Charlotte attorney and a blocker for the Speed Demons.

It might have had a couple flaws.

Based on the Speed Demons' practice Thursday night, the sport has evolved in the 40 years since Raquel. Moving around the flat concrete rink are 21 women. Some were hockey players, some speed skaters, some soccer players, some gymnasts, one a boxer and one a skating waitress

The skating waitress was racing a co-worker in the Sonic parking lot. Presumably she was winning.

The Speed Demons don't get paid, but they don't pay to play.

Bailey makes an interesting point. Many women have to give up contact sports when they leave college.

Rebecca Bailey, a blocker who is married to Craig, went to a doctor's appointment. The doctor saw the bruises on her arm and was concerned about their origin. She explained, quickly, that they came from contact with teammates, opponents and concrete.

In the game are three blockers, one pivot (captain) and one jammer. Jammers have the best job. They start behind the others and move as if unleashed, picking up a point for every opponent they pass.

Carrie Hanson, 40, is a Speed Demons jammer, and she's fearless. She flies around the track Thursday, putting on moves and rarely breaking stride when she gets hit.

"I love it," she says. "It's kind of like playing chess on skates with a little bit of violence. For jammers it's like a racing game of chess with violence."

Hanson works in emerging technology for Bank of America and has a son and two daughters. She grew up a gymnast, has boxed and practiced martial arts, and is training for a half-marathon. Her kids (12, 9 and 6) will hold signs tonight, wear team shirts and cheer for their mom.

The game against the Appalachian Roller Girls will be at 7 at Metrolina Trade Show Expo, 7100 Statesville Rd. Tickets for adults are $10 in advance, $14 at the door, $10 and $12 for kids. More information: charlottespeeddemons.com.

Roller derby began in the 1930s and thrived before eventually fading. Sports do that. Do not blame Raquel.

The sport was resurrected in Texas in 2001 and took off faster than any jammer.

According to Roller Derby Worldwide there are 693 leagues in the United States.

North Carolina has 21 teams, South Carolina nine and Charlotte two - the Charlotte Roller Girls and the Speed Demons.

Klauk, 44, is the oldest player on the Speed Demons. Five years ago she accompanied her daughter, Taylor, to a birthday party at a skating rink.

"I hadn't been on skates for 25 years," Klauk says. "And I got out there with her and it all came right back. I was one of those kids that lived at the rink on weekends and practiced with the guys' speed team."

She heard about the Charlotte Roller Girls and became Sybil Action, which you have to admit is a pretty good name for an attorney.

"Sometimes at work I get the fatherly concerned hand on shoulder," says Klauk, and she puts her hand in a fatherly manner on mine. Couldn't you get hurt?

She asks: "If I was a guy playing indoor hockey or soccer, would we be having this conversation?"

At practice the Speed Demons skate and bump and drop low and change directions, laugh, shout, fall and sweat profusely. Drills are repetitive. Players are joyful.

Out here, they're professional athletes. And that, they will tell you, is the only name that counts.