To the victor, the spoils, on motor-cycling’s fast track

Press, 2 June 1989, Page 31

To the victor, the spoils, on motor-cycling’s fast track

With all the pomp and ceremony of a royal visit, the knights of the World Motor-cycle Grand Prix circus roll into Melbourne to sample the delights of Australian hospitality and to try their luck on the centre stage of the Phillip Island motor-cycle racing arena.

The circus followers are a mixed bunch. There are quiet, methodical Japanese mechanics tending to the super-fast mounts of brash young Americans, hot-tempered Italian and Spanish riders keen to show the Aussies just how it should be done, home town boys from Wooliongong and Horsham eager to be first across the line in front of a fiercely patriotic home crowd, cool, calculating team managers trying to make sense of it all as they look after their riders and continue the search for parts lost in transit from Japan to Australia, and, out the back, away from the. plush airconditioned pit lane facilities, the independent “privateers.” Housed in shipping containers or under tents in muddy fields they slog away with meagre resources burning the candle at both ends to meet race day commitments and to have a chance at fame and glory. The glamour and glory of grand-prix racing eludes*most. They haven’t the huge budgets and back-up facilities of factory teams. They cannot afford umpteen dozen sets of A grade racing tyres, supplied by manufacturers to the select few riders. They have to miss qualifying sessions to ensure that a second-rate tyre will last the race distance and the qualifying session of the next race.

stopped producing spares, and riders are now having to nurse engines through races to save hours on the cranks and pistons. It has been nearly three years since the factory supplied spares for the V3s and, with the swing to the more powerful V 4 engines, the days of the RSSOO are, sadly, numbered.

But still the privateers compete. At each race the back of the grid behind the factory teams is full of eager hopefuls, who may have travelled all over Europe chasing a chance at the factory ride and all the fame and fortune that comes with it. Their machines are a patchwork of bits and pieces borrowed from here and there, lovingly maintained with amazing ingenuity in attempts to make old engines go that little bit faster and further.

Teams are made up of friends and family, unpaid and poorly fed. They travel like gipsies from circuit to circuit in Europe, living in small caravans in the hope that one day enough factory riders — and there were 18 at the last count — will fall off or suffer mechanical failure to let them through to achieve sufficient points in the world championship to tempt future sponsors. These riders push themselves and their machines right to the limit as they attempt to make up the speed differences and horsepower shortages they have against the superior factory bikes. However, even the

The main headache for privateers now is where to get parts for their ageing machines. What was the main source of “gofast” parts for the venerable Honda RSSOO has

A behind-the-scenes look at world championship motor-cycle racing is provided by JOHN COSGROVE, who recently attended the Swan Premium Australian Grand Prix, the second round of the present series, at the Phillip Island circuit, near

Melbourne.

strongest will to survive and succeed can only take them so far. The fall-off rate is high.

A crash during practice or the race can seriously affect chances of a decent meal or competing in the next race, but the lure of fame and glory still keeps attracting them to the hard life of the grand prix circuit. At the other end of the scale are the factory riders young and talented, masters of their chosen trade and each with a chance to be the toast of the world and to carry the prestigious No. 1 plate. Victory guarantees fame, fortune and instant recognition from millions of dedicated fans worldwide.

For the factory riders, dollars by the millions in some cases, lavish motorhomes in which to hide away from prying eyes during race meetings and to travel in style between events, extensive worldwide travel first class, hotels and meals paid for, P.R. people to cater to their every whim and fancy, and the choice of leaving the pressures of racing behind. The latter can be done in apartments overlooking Monaco, a la Wayne Gardner, or by following Eddie Lawson’s habit of flying home to California immediately after each race. Lawson hates travelling and staying in Europe. These riders arrive at each circuit in a Mercedes or Ferrari early on a Thursday morning to start practising for the race on Sunday.

Their teams have already arrived and set up the motor-home. Leathers are laid out, helmet visors polished, and team managers hover in the wings with last year’s lap records and notes to study. All this before they slip into the saddle for four days of 300km/h motorcycle racing. There is the sweet success of victory or the sadness of a crash or engine failure. That is all right — there is always the motorhome, and next week-end, another race in another country. As the elite of the grand prix circus travel the world they are wined and dined by royalty. Mayors and prime ministers want to shake their hands and be photographed with them.

reported that they had spent nearly a million dollars so far this year just to compete in the first three rounds in Japan, Australia and the United States. For their money the sponsors get their names on the machines, on the riders’ leathers and, if their support is substantial enough, the team is named after their product.

One of the privileges of being a factory rider is the appeal it has to sponsors. Sponsors offer the riders leathers, helmets, gloves and boots as well as free company motorcycles and in some cases, fast and expensive cars. Gardner’s attire alone costs more than $5OOO a set, and he has four sets on call. These are replaced after each accident and, in some cases, monthly. In return the sponsors demand their pound of flesh.

Organisers lay on everything to make sure they are happy and contented enough to come back next year and keep the paying fans coming. Thousands of people want their autograph. Television channels want them in front of their cameras and in the spotlight. So do the sponsors. The sponsors are the most important part of any team’s organisation. It is their money that keeps the top riders in machines and clothes.

They expect riders to do their best and to win races or to come up with publicity stunts to ensure their company’s name and logo appears in books, magazines and on television.

They pay the wages of the well-organised support teams and provide the advertising budgets to keep the teams in the public eye. The cost is staggering. The Cabin Honda team, sponsored by the giant Japanese tobacco company, Cabin, has been reported as spending more than $25 million this year in forming a new team. This through paying all the expenses and travelling costs for mechanical support from the factories and, most importantly, to advertise the rider and the team round the world.

The Pepsi Suzuki rider, Kevin Schwantz, of the United States, attracts the photographers by standing on the pegs of his motorcycle when he wins races and by always having pretty girls standing next to him.

The crowd favourite, aptly named the “Clown Prince” of the grand prix circus, the American, Randy Mamola, does amazing slides and trick riding on his Cagiva motor-cycle, wears ridiculous hats and sometimes races with brightly coloured Bermuda shorts outside his leathers.

Sponsored riders also have to appear at publicity days, make guest appearances, give interviews and generally appear at the request of the sponsors.

The top teams, Rothmans Honda, Lucky Strike Yamaha and Pepsi Suzuki,