| December 1, 2016
I have loved and followed all types of racing for as long as I can remember and 2016 was a very good year for people who love racing. It’s not only the actual racing that I enjoy; I’m also fascinated by the personalities and mindsets of people who become champions in their chosen discipline.
I am a huge fan of Formula One and was stoked to watch Nico Rosberg win his first World Championship on Sunday, beating his Mercedes teammate, Lewis Hamilton, by a handful of points. Rosberg did what he had to do and it was refreshing to see the outpouring of emotion by the German rider, who always maintains a sort of humble coolness, no matter the circumstances. Reigning champion, Hamilton, the winner Sunday and winner of the last four races, did an admirable job of hiding his disappointment, especially in light of the fact that he was leading the series in October, before suffering an engine failure in Malaysia.
It was also interesting to compare the attitudes of Jensen Button and Felipe Massa on the last day of their long F1 careers. Button didn’t even seem bothered when his McLaren DNF’d early on with suspension problems, while Massa was all smiles as he talked about being extra careful not to wreck his Williams racecar during the final laps on Sunday. Two weeks ago, he was awash in tears, having crashed out of the Brazilian Grand Prix at Interlagos, his home race. The team at Williams rebuilt the car and gifted it to Massa, one of the humblest. I think having your F1 racecar hanging in your man cave would be a nice touch when telling stories to your grandkids.
In MotoGP, there were nine different winners over the 18-race 2016 season, an unprecedented number. In fact, I cannot recall any individual sport with that kind of parity, other than golf. Actually, parity probably isn’t the right word, because in reality we have Marc Marquez, Jorge Lorenzo and Valentino Rossi, and then there is everyone else. Going into any given weekend, the odds were pretty good that, barring some sort of unforeseen circumstance, one of those three riders was going to take home the win. Yet, somehow six other riders managed to beat the superstar trifecta and pull off a win. Interestingly, not all of them were due to unforeseen circumstances, or even inclement weather. They simply stepped up and elevated their game to another level. I’ve seen it happen a few times and I have even been that guy a couple of times during my motocross-racing years—not quite to the level of passing Valentino Rossi at a MotoGP race, but hey!
Sadly, the country that once gave the world Kenny Roberts, Eddie Lawson, Freddie Spencer and Wayne Rainey has no one contending at the highest level of road racing. No, Nicky Hayden does not count; he hasn’t been competitive, or even bothered to make it look like he’s trying to be, in years. Given the current state of road racing and the lack of interest here in the USA, Hayden might be the last American MotoGP World Champion for quite a while.
Chad Reed served notice that he is still a force to be reckoned with by winning the 2016 Australian Supercross Open in Sydney, sweeping both nights in front of his fellow countrymen. Reed looked lean and mean, riding with aggression and beating Cooper Webb, Justin Brayton and some guy named Ryan Villopoto. Rumor has it that this Villopoto guy used to be fast and was lured out of his recent retirement by a dangling $200,000 start-money carrot, airfare not included. Here’s hoping that Reed shows up at Anaheim 1 as healthy and hungry as he was in Sydney; that would be a season to remember, with Roczen, Tomac, Anderson, Dungey, Musquin, Seely, Webb, Canard and Reed battling it out all the way to Vegas!
While we are on the subject of old guys, I would be remiss if I did not mention how incredible it is that Greg Hancock won his fourth Speedway World Championship in 2016, nearly 20 years after winning his first one back in 1997! The feeling and sense of pride he must have inside has to be tremendous. Well done, Grin!
On a personal note, 1997 was a year I also will never forget. I was recently divorced and shared joint physical custody of our beautiful daughter, Gabriella. I met a woman and being mammals, we “did it like they do on the Discovery Channel” (I know, a cheesy attempt at humor to divert attention from how personal this really is). She got pregnant, and, as a single parent with two kids already, she chose to put the child, a boy, up for adoption through the LDS Church. I wanted to raise the child, but rights were few and my protests were in vain, while she made what she felt was the best decision for our child. She wanted to see him raised within the LDS Church and believe me, the Mormons are set up for it, with their own adoption service.
She interviewed dozens of prospective couples, and settled on a couple from somewhere in NorCal. My only option was whether or not I wanted to meet the people who would be raising our kid. I chose to meet them and they seemed nice. They had an adopted daughter already and were super grateful and appreciative. The dad even had motorcycles and promised me my son would have the opportunity to ride if he wanted to. They assured me that he would have access to my information on his 18th birthday, and I felt about as good as I could about it, given the circumstances.
Flash forward to a month before his 18th birthday. My daughter has always wanted a sibling and was waiting as anxiously as I was to possibly hear from him. I contacted the folks in Fountain Valley and gave them my current contact info; they said “things had changed within the church,” but they would pass my info to the right people. His birthday came and went—crickets. We were disappointed and I was especially sad for Gabriella, who is in her senior year of college back East.
Three weeks ago I got a voicemail from the child’s mother. He had called her, and he wanted to know if he could contact me! We spoke a couple hours later and it was an indescribable experience. One of the first questions he had was about his sister, I gave him her number and they talked for two and a half hours the next day. She flew home from Boston, he flew down from NorCal and they both stayed at my house Wednesday and Thursday night.
Steve certainly had many reasons to smile this Thanksgiving—at least two of them.
It was a fantastic Thanksgiving and the question that keeps popping up in my brain is the obvious one: What kind of bike should I start my boy out on? He’s 6’2” and skinny as a rail, so I’m thinking a PW50 might be too small. Any ideas? CN
BY STEVE BAUER
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