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MotoGP race review, Indianapolis
The winds of change
(15/09/2008)
Now the Americans love to dramatise stuff. For example take an average TV show - send it to America and it'll come back with dramatic music and hundreds of 'still to come' clips. Or take an everyday Arabic country - give it to America and suddenly it's harvesting millions of unwashed terrorists and a bucket loads of WMD's on every street corner. Brilliant.
The US loves drama. And why not? So it should come as no surprise that a race that would have been dull and uninteresting in any war-shy European country still manage to force feed an obtuse angle of excitement pie down our unsuspecting necks.
The weekend started and then ended in complete confusion.
Initially the Indianapolis fans were confused with goings on. Right turning motor vehicles? On a race track? Understandably such antics amongst the simpletons were viewed as the movements of the devil himself - or worst still of Hillary ....... herself. (Okay, so that's me mysteriously killed then).
Next up the 'two wheeled Nascars' sounded funny. Nothing like Harley's at all. And the little ones sounded like screaming European kids being force fed snails or whatever they eat over there.
But it was actually even more confusing than that. Why? 'Climate change'. It's worth noting at this point that you should never to call climate change 'global warming' - that's so 2004. For a start, as the UK residents successfully lobbied in Brussels, Britian isn't getting 'warmer' at all. It's just raining a lot more. That's like Kurtis Roberts getting slower and uglier. Or Neil Hodgson poorer. So the word 'climate change' was introduced giving every unwashed halfwit the chance to annoyingly chip it into conversations at the first sign of any non-standard weather.
For America climate change seems to mean hurricanes. And the anal flatulence of hurricane Ike, or whatever stupid name it was given, caught the Birckyard leaving the circuit wetter than a trout's pocket. And this was an important hurricane as this time it wasn't in crappy old New Orleans.
Bed and Breakfast accommodation plus gite 30 mins from le Mans we are a English couple who are into all forms of motor sport we are providing accommodation for people who wish to visit our part of france famous for its race track but there is a lot more to do and see there are out door pursuits including mountain biking of road 4x4 bunggy jumping to name but a few we can provide transport to local bars if you would like a drink or a meal or you can eat with us we look forward to meeting you.
And so the rain came…and thus the crowd were about to be mislead…
In qualifying the overweight crowd were left asking "Who's the Dale Earnhardt Jnr guy on the green bike? He looks good." It was Anthony West - and he was in a class of his own. Usually Anthony's in a class of his own - the 'special school' overspill class for failing MotoGP riders. But wetness means two things to Westy - at night it means his 'wandering bladder' has kicked in again but on race day it means he might not be crap.
And crap he wasn't. Anthony was charging around the track like his World Superbike career depended on it. No one had an answer to his mumbling-Joe questions. Pole was surely his if it stayed wet…
Luckily qualifying was drier than Ellison's trophy cabinet thus transforming Westy from hero to the 'clown at the back'. As they say. Maybe.
Upfront Rossi had finally broken Stoner's seven consecutive pole run. But at least Casey could smile about it…
After drifting off for a bite to eat on Saturday the hurricane was back to play on race day. This excited the crowd - a race run under full course yellows on average takes about two days to run and that's a hell of a lot of grilled meat sandwiches.
But MotoGP is different…and the race was run as if it was a race. The standing water was alarming yet, in a rare MGPN comment, all the riders performed amazingly and stayed upright. Credit where credit's due.
Once the field had become accustomed to the dampness in their joints the upgraded Italian Andrea Dovizioso found himself out front heading the downgraded Nicky Hayden in second. The rest gingerly tip-toed around as visibility was at a minimum with there being more spray around than in Gibernau's vanity room.
It wasn't long before Hayden took the lead. Because there were no need for complicated quarantine forms the entire Hayden family had turned up to give their support and to steal hoarding to patch up the roof on their barn. More condensed inbreeding you'd struggle to find at a Dalmatian convention.
Nicky was out to do well in front of his family and his passport-less countrymen. He was also, crucially, out to stick one up the arse of his much hated employers Honda by thrashing their beloved son Pedrosa. And he did. Result.
This weekend we saw a different Nicky. One that speaks his mind (albeit with the same simple drawl) and doesn't mind letting his employers know. And this Nicky wasn't counting his chickens and so set off into the mist.
Sticking it to the man. Hayden's not just a number.
Meanwhile behind him Rossi was on the move. After a cautious getaway the odoursome Italian was parting the water like Moses' leaf-blower and finally caught Hayden at the dreaded 'one third' (or 'one turd') distance. The Italian suspended the inevitable for a few laps before cruising past, into the lead, and surely onto another drama-free win…
…but this is America remember!
Up until this point the track had being drying out but Hurricane Halfwit was about to 'take it to the max'.
First the rain came. Not just heavy rain but the kind of rain that makes you contemplate building a gigantic boat in your garden. And then came the wind - 'end of the world' kind of wind. It gusted and blew at speeds that Kurtis could only dream of achieving at a circuit and with it created utter chaos for the riders.
The crowd, still confused to the whereabouts of the food-course yellow flags were, continued their eating habits of dropping their litter on the floor safe in the knowledge that some lucky Mexican would get the 'only in America' opportunity to clean it up. A win-win situation. But not this time as the hundreds of thousands of fast food packaging items began blowing across and around the circuit like it were in the 'Crystal Maze'.
At the two-turds race distance the organisers found themselves with a headache worse than anything even George Chandler has had. Should they red flag the race as it was alarming dangerous? Or should they let it run a few laps longer so more fast food could be sold?
Option two was initially preferred until Jorge Lorenzo, in third and catching Hayden at a rate of two seconds a lap, moved in to overtake the American. This wouldn't have gone down at all well so the race was immediately stopped.
So, with the race stopped, the rules state a sprint race is run if the weather improves. The weather did improve. But Dorna had other ideas…or should that be 'no idea'? There aren't that many rules in MotoGP but it seems the few that we do have aren't at all understood.
Despite the weather improving and the rules clearly stating otherwise the race result was left to stand. Rossi, big cheese that he is, decided it was up to him to decide….forgetting the time he beat Gibernau in similar situations.
Not many understood why the race was declared a result. Even fewer cared.
In a half-baked attempt to not look like utter chumps Dorna cancelled the 250 race in a 'see I told you it was bad' move. No one cared about that either. The crowd by now were wet and tired and hated two-strokes at the very best of times.
Interesting there's a yard of bricks running across the Brickyard's circuit. This would never work in the UK. EU regulations would state it would have to be the 'BrickMetricMetre' or even maybe the bricks should be removed completely as it disrespects other cultures.
He has more than four, therefore can't
Recently Jorge Lorenzo has picked up the habit of starting slow and getting faster and faster as the race progresses. No matter what the situation. Kenny Roberts Jnr had also a similar trait - although his was said to be due to kinetic energy.
MotoGP race review, Indianapolis
The winds of change
(15/09/2008)
Now the Americans love to dramatise stuff. For example take an average TV show - send it to America and it'll come back with dramatic music and hundreds of 'still to come' clips. Or take an everyday Arabic country - give it to America and suddenly it's harvesting millions of unwashed terrorists and a bucket loads of WMD's on every street corner. Brilliant.
The US loves drama. And why not? So it should come as no surprise that a race that would have been dull and uninteresting in any war-shy European country still manage to force feed an obtuse angle of excitement pie down our unsuspecting necks.
The weekend started and then ended in complete confusion.
Initially the Indianapolis fans were confused with goings on. Right turning motor vehicles? On a race track? Understandably such antics amongst the simpletons were viewed as the movements of the devil himself - or worst still of Hillary ....... herself. (Okay, so that's me mysteriously killed then).
Next up the 'two wheeled Nascars' sounded funny. Nothing like Harley's at all. And the little ones sounded like screaming European kids being force fed snails or whatever they eat over there.
But it was actually even more confusing than that. Why? 'Climate change'. It's worth noting at this point that you should never to call climate change 'global warming' - that's so 2004. For a start, as the UK residents successfully lobbied in Brussels, Britian isn't getting 'warmer' at all. It's just raining a lot more. That's like Kurtis Roberts getting slower and uglier. Or Neil Hodgson poorer. So the word 'climate change' was introduced giving every unwashed halfwit the chance to annoyingly chip it into conversations at the first sign of any non-standard weather.
For America climate change seems to mean hurricanes. And the anal flatulence of hurricane Ike, or whatever stupid name it was given, caught the Birckyard leaving the circuit wetter than a trout's pocket. And this was an important hurricane as this time it wasn't in crappy old New Orleans.
Bed and Breakfast accommodation plus gite 30 mins from le Mans we are a English couple who are into all forms of motor sport we are providing accommodation for people who wish to visit our part of france famous for its race track but there is a lot more to do and see there are out door pursuits including mountain biking of road 4x4 bunggy jumping to name but a few we can provide transport to local bars if you would like a drink or a meal or you can eat with us we look forward to meeting you.
And so the rain came…and thus the crowd were about to be mislead…
In qualifying the overweight crowd were left asking "Who's the Dale Earnhardt Jnr guy on the green bike? He looks good." It was Anthony West - and he was in a class of his own. Usually Anthony's in a class of his own - the 'special school' overspill class for failing MotoGP riders. But wetness means two things to Westy - at night it means his 'wandering bladder' has kicked in again but on race day it means he might not be crap.
And crap he wasn't. Anthony was charging around the track like his World Superbike career depended on it. No one had an answer to his mumbling-Joe questions. Pole was surely his if it stayed wet…
Luckily qualifying was drier than Ellison's trophy cabinet thus transforming Westy from hero to the 'clown at the back'. As they say. Maybe.
Upfront Rossi had finally broken Stoner's seven consecutive pole run. But at least Casey could smile about it…
After drifting off for a bite to eat on Saturday the hurricane was back to play on race day. This excited the crowd - a race run under full course yellows on average takes about two days to run and that's a hell of a lot of grilled meat sandwiches.
But MotoGP is different…and the race was run as if it was a race. The standing water was alarming yet, in a rare MGPN comment, all the riders performed amazingly and stayed upright. Credit where credit's due.
Once the field had become accustomed to the dampness in their joints the upgraded Italian Andrea Dovizioso found himself out front heading the downgraded Nicky Hayden in second. The rest gingerly tip-toed around as visibility was at a minimum with there being more spray around than in Gibernau's vanity room.
It wasn't long before Hayden took the lead. Because there were no need for complicated quarantine forms the entire Hayden family had turned up to give their support and to steal hoarding to patch up the roof on their barn. More condensed inbreeding you'd struggle to find at a Dalmatian convention.
Nicky was out to do well in front of his family and his passport-less countrymen. He was also, crucially, out to stick one up the arse of his much hated employers Honda by thrashing their beloved son Pedrosa. And he did. Result.
This weekend we saw a different Nicky. One that speaks his mind (albeit with the same simple drawl) and doesn't mind letting his employers know. And this Nicky wasn't counting his chickens and so set off into the mist.
Sticking it to the man. Hayden's not just a number.
Meanwhile behind him Rossi was on the move. After a cautious getaway the odoursome Italian was parting the water like Moses' leaf-blower and finally caught Hayden at the dreaded 'one third' (or 'one turd') distance. The Italian suspended the inevitable for a few laps before cruising past, into the lead, and surely onto another drama-free win…
…but this is America remember!
Up until this point the track had being drying out but Hurricane Halfwit was about to 'take it to the max'.
First the rain came. Not just heavy rain but the kind of rain that makes you contemplate building a gigantic boat in your garden. And then came the wind - 'end of the world' kind of wind. It gusted and blew at speeds that Kurtis could only dream of achieving at a circuit and with it created utter chaos for the riders.
The crowd, still confused to the whereabouts of the food-course yellow flags were, continued their eating habits of dropping their litter on the floor safe in the knowledge that some lucky Mexican would get the 'only in America' opportunity to clean it up. A win-win situation. But not this time as the hundreds of thousands of fast food packaging items began blowing across and around the circuit like it were in the 'Crystal Maze'.
At the two-turds race distance the organisers found themselves with a headache worse than anything even George Chandler has had. Should they red flag the race as it was alarming dangerous? Or should they let it run a few laps longer so more fast food could be sold?
Option two was initially preferred until Jorge Lorenzo, in third and catching Hayden at a rate of two seconds a lap, moved in to overtake the American. This wouldn't have gone down at all well so the race was immediately stopped.
So, with the race stopped, the rules state a sprint race is run if the weather improves. The weather did improve. But Dorna had other ideas…or should that be 'no idea'? There aren't that many rules in MotoGP but it seems the few that we do have aren't at all understood.
Despite the weather improving and the rules clearly stating otherwise the race result was left to stand. Rossi, big cheese that he is, decided it was up to him to decide….forgetting the time he beat Gibernau in similar situations.
Not many understood why the race was declared a result. Even fewer cared.
In a half-baked attempt to not look like utter chumps Dorna cancelled the 250 race in a 'see I told you it was bad' move. No one cared about that either. The crowd by now were wet and tired and hated two-strokes at the very best of times.
Interesting there's a yard of bricks running across the Brickyard's circuit. This would never work in the UK. EU regulations would state it would have to be the 'BrickMetricMetre' or even maybe the bricks should be removed completely as it disrespects other cultures.
He has more than four, therefore can't
Recently Jorge Lorenzo has picked up the habit of starting slow and getting faster and faster as the race progresses. No matter what the situation. Kenny Roberts Jnr had also a similar trait - although his was said to be due to kinetic energy.
