Archive - 2007 - Race Story

Bittersweet. That, in a word, describes the final MotoGP round at Valencia. Riders, teams, fans and followers, all face the weekend of MotoGP's last race with very mixed feelings. The time and place, Valencia in early November, has a lot going for it. The weather is perfect for racing and spectating alike, not so hot that it melts both bikes and fans, but warm enough that the tires get up to temperature, and fans can sit in the sun all day. The track is fantastic for viewing: located in a natural bowl, you can see most of the track from almost anywhere around the banked seating areas.

Bittersweet. That, in a word, describes the final MotoGP round at Valencia. Riders, teams, fans and followers, all face the weekend of MotoGP's last race with very mixed feelings. The time and place, Valencia in early November, has a lot going for it. The weather is perfect for racing and spectating alike, not so hot that it melts both bikes and fans, but warm enough that the tires get up to temperature, and fans can sit in the sun all day. The track is fantastic for viewing: located in a natural bowl, you can see most of the track from almost anywhere around the banked seating areas.

For anyone who enjoyed the host of apocalyptic disaster movies which appeared at the end of the 20th century, most of which seemed to involve asteroids threatening to destroy the Earth, the atmosphere surrounding the final MotoGP round at Valencia will be instantly familiar. For almost everyone involved, either in staging, racing in, or just plain attending the event, there is a sense that the end of the world is imminent and that they'd better try and cram as much as possible into the weekend, before the endless dark of winter falls.

Is the MotoGP series sport or entertainment?

It is difficult to imagine a greater contrast in climate than the chilly, blustery spring conditions of Phillip Island, which the MotoGP circus has just left, and the slow broil of Sepang, set slap bang in the middle of the tropics, where they head to this weekend. You would think that two tracks, set thousands of miles apart, one probably the closest race track to the equator on the planet, the other one of the most southerly, located on the edge of the southern hemisphere's temperate zone, would be worlds apart when it comes to motorcycle racing.

Nicky Hayden's grenaded RC212V motor is barely cold and we are already talking about next weekend's meeting in the steamy jungles of Malaysia. This may be the only time that one hears the word cold in the same sentence as Sepang as the Malaysian track is synonymous with wretchedly hot and humid weather conditions. Valentino Rossi has done well here in the past as has Loris Capirossi. Recent results haven't much favored one tire brand over another, not that conjecture that one track or another commonly favors one brand or another has much relevance this year.

As objects to look at, motorcycle racing tires are neither particularly impressive nor very interesting. They're round, black, shiny when new, matte when used. Some are wider than others, some are larger than others, some have a taller profile, some have a rounder profile. Some tires are covered in a system of grooves, to channel surface water away from the body of the tire, and allow it to grip, others are smooth as an eight ball.

As objects to look at, motorcycle racing tires are neither particularly impressive nor very interesting. They're round, black, shiny when new, matte when used. Some are wider than others, some are larger than others, some have a taller profile, some have a rounder profile. Some tires are covered in a system of grooves, to channel surface water away from the body of the tire, and allow it to grip, others are smooth as an eight ball.

There's something ineffably romantic about a newly-crowned champion returning to his native soil to be feted in his home race. And at first sight, Casey Stoner would seem to fit that poetic  notion just perfectly: a handsome youngster and his beautiful young bride return home after securing the world title in a tightly-fought battle with a grizzled veteran. But cast anything more than that cursory glance at the situation, and the romance disappears faster than a Ducati GP7 down Qatar's front straight.

The season's over, isn't it? Casey Stoner is the new MotoGP champion, most of the rides for next year are spoken for, and the only interesting thing left is what brand tire will be shoved down the teams' throats in '08. Might as well cancel the rest of the races and give the boys some time off, right?

Wrong.

Crazy, crazy stuff.

Rain and a drying track scramble everything in the land of the rising sun.

Capirossi rolls the dice and comes in early for dry tires. The gamble pays off and Capirex wins his 3rd Motegi race in three years. DePuniet comes in second, his best result ever, then Elias. All the Bridgestone riders went back out on slicks.

Guintoli nearly gets Dunlop on the podium.

Rossi gambles and loses by staying out a bit too long on his wet tires..

For Casey Stoner, this could be the week that was. That is, the week he is crowned MotoGP World Champion. The fact that it could be in the land of the rising sun, the home of the Japanese big 4 manufacturers makes it that much sweeter, if not for Stoner, then certainly for Ducati. The last time a non-Nipponese machine won the premiere class was in 1974, when an MV Agusta piloted by Englishman Phil Read prevailed. 33 years is an awfully long dry spell and it has built an powerfulful thirst for victory.

Viewed strictly objectively, MotoGP is an incredibly repetitious exercise. Every other Wednesday, the whole circus rolls into another race paddock, spends a day transforming empty pit boxes into racing garages, erecting luxury hospitality units and getting ready to race. Over the next three days, a bunch of riders spend several hours riding the same short piece of tarmac over and over and over again, trying to brake at exactly the same spot with exactly the same force again and again, and get on the gas at exactly the same point coming out of the corners time after time.

Viewed strictly objectively, MotoGP is an incredibly repetitious exercise. Every other Wednesday, the whole circus rolls into another race paddock, spends a day transforming empty pit boxes into racing garages, erecting luxury hospitality units and getting ready to race. Over the next three days, a bunch of riders spend several hours riding the same short piece of tarmac over and over and over again, trying to brake at exactly the same spot with exactly the same force again and again, and get on the gas at exactly the same point coming out of the corners time after time.

There is something about the Circuito do Estoril which just exudes drama. Firstly, there's the location: Situated just a few miles from Portugal's wild Atlantic coast, with only a few hills between the track and the ocean, the next stop past the beach is Atlantic City, New Jersey.