I’m a big fan of motorcycle racing, particularly the premiere class of the world stage, MotoGP. I’m also a fan of one of the most successful and popular riders of the modern era, Valentino Rossi.
Or I was.
Rossi has been racing in the premiere class since 2000. He’s currently the oldest rider on the circuit. He’s also currently in the lead for the championship, albeit by a slim margin.
Recently, it seems Rossi has gone off the deep end. He has developed a bizarre theory that Marc Marquez, one of the up and coming young riders, is out to spoil his championship by helping his rival. He came out publicly and said as much. He attacked Marquez in the press on a very personal level – not a pretty sight.
During yesterday’s race, after 6 very exciting laps of he and Marquez duking it out on every corner, Rossi did something I never expected. He got in front of and beside Marquez, ran a wide line while slowing, and essentially punted Marquez off the racetrack. He has since added insult to injury by claiming that the penalty he was assessed was unfair, and that he might boycott the final race of the season in protest.
There are many Rossi fans who are taking him at his word. I simply can’t. I watched the footage from every angle available, in slow motion, stop motion, high-zoom, and every other possible way I could look at it. I’ve listened to the reactions from the other riders. I continue to come to the same conclusion. Rossi played dirty pool.
One of the many reasons I’ve enjoyed years of Rossi fandom is that he’s been fun to watch, and always seemed to play fair, particularly in contrast to Max Biaggi, one of his main rivals in his early career. When he lost, he took responsibility. He didn’t blame the bike, his team, or track conditions. This weekend, that all changed. He stopped playing fair, and he’s blaming another rider for his failures.
Why do our heroes tend to fail?
We forget that our heroes are human, and are subject to the same pressures we are. In sports, they’re probably under even more pressure. Their performance is measured at every instance, from every angle, every time they compete. In MotoGP, even practices are measured. It’s an extraordinarily high-pressure environment.
Some people thrive under pressure, and others buckle. But I don’t know of anyone who thrives under continued, constant, high pressure. No matter who you are, and what your character, you’re likely to be crushed by it eventually, particularly when you see your success slipping away.