Race Pace
Sunday began much like Saturday, just a little earlier and with the same wonderful, greasy breakfast sandwiches, the same excitement from Bowen as we passed the underground prison and the same driving by Southwell. But when we got to the track, the vibe was completely different. It was more business, more serious. Just before Sunday's practice started, team owner and manager Paul Lindsay arrived. He's usually in town on the Friday before a race, but this weekend some personal obligations kept him from the race until Sunday. Lindsay immediately went to work. And as I listened in on the team's chatter on the headsets, I found out there's a lot of thinking that goes into these races. Lindsay was all over the place Sunday. First, he was behind the starting gate talking to Southwell, Karl "Gunsee" Gunderson, Timmy and Bowen about which gates would be best. Then he was at the finish line picking out fast local riders. Gunsee was checking the local speed as well. Since he's a Connecticut boy, he knew some names to watch and suggested that Timmy pull in his rider and have him follow around one of the speedy guys.
When the races finally started, the anticipation was killing me. I had lived with the team for a little more than 24 hours, but I was pulling for them like they were my personal friends and coworkers. I guess it's because I saw all the hard work that everyone put in and I wanted them to get something worthwhile out of it. Woody was already out of luck, but we had two more 250Fs on the line and a 450 with a whole lot of momentum. David Vuillemin had been, up to this race, the surprise of the series. Sitting fourth in points after two rounds, the friendly French import was turning a lot of heads once again in American motocross. He welcomed my foreign presence gracefully, as did all the riders and crew, and that undoubtedly had an effect on how much I was pulling for them. My role on the sidelines of the race was simple. I wasn't instructed to do anything, so I figured I would wave a towel, scream as our riders went by and be the best damn cheerleader in the mechanics' pit. I waved my towel. I screamed like my brother was racing, and when the riders fell, my first step was in their direction.
Listening in to the headset radio chatter was, by far, my favorite part of the weekend. And I truly wish everyone could hear what it's like to be inside the mind of the race teams during the events. I heard betting odds, why competitors' bikes were blowing up, how many laps are left in the race and jokes about the rookie on the team-me-(and I wondered why they gave me the headset that wouldn't talk back). Also impressive was the organization of the team. Trucker was spotting from up high on the track; Lindsay was at the finish line doing the same and was astoundingly aware of every rider on the track. Southwell was in charge of lap times, and when the mechanics needed one, he'd have it to them almost immediately. The mechanics, with me eavesdropping, would listen in for positions and lap times and get ready to communicate it to the riders via the all-important pit board. It was so much fun, as a fan, to be inside the world of the race and to truly be a part of it.