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There's no other way to say it: The tests went fantastically well...until about 2 o'clock on the second day. Valentino was testing race tires and rushed into a fourth-gear sweeper with a bit too much speed. The front let go, then caught, breaking the rear loose and tossing Valentino pretty hard. Apart from the usual bruises and scrapes, he had bent his right thumb back against his wrist and despite immediate care, the thumb had swollen to the size of a tennis ball. He had four days to recover before the first practice of the GP weekend. When I left the track to return to Arizona, Valentino was in his motorhome with the team doctor and they were discussing his options. It sounded like he would race, or at least try.
As you can guess, my involvement in this whole project had been kept top secret. Himatsu and Burgess had provided the funding to get me on the bike because the war at Yamaha would have reached meltdown if Himatsu had proposed to bring me on as a consultant. So rather than stay in South Africa for the GP, I flew home with plans to watch the race with my buddies on the big screen.
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| Smile! “Class picture” at Welkom before the start of the 2004 season. Note how Rossi is using his AGV to hide his swollen right hand. |
Himatsu's 3 a.m. phone call shocked me awake, but the ringing of the phone wasn't as startling as the words I heard from South Africa. “Eddie-san, Valentino's thumb is terrible. He can't ride more than three laps in a row. Can you come back to Welkom and race the M1? Please!” Himatsu took the next 10 minutes to tell me of his plan, a plan that I couldn't believe. It was insane...but it might work. “I have a ticket for you at the airport and you must leave now to make it by Sunday,” he implored.
Himatsu met me at the airport at 5:30 Sunday morning and we snuck into the Yamaha pit as the sun was coming up. He hustled me into Valentino's motorhome but the young Italian was nowhere to be seen. Himatsu left and I rested until 9 a.m., when he arrived with my riding gear. Or should I say Rossi's riding gear?
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| The ruse is on: While Lawson does his Rossi impersonation, making sure to keep his dark faceshield clamped tight, the team gets the bike ready for warm-up laps. |
MotoGP warm-up runs from 10 to 10:30 and I stepped out of the motorhome at 10:05, resplendent in yellow and blue from helmet to boots. With my dark faceshield firmly closed, I quickly walked across our pit that accessed the garage, through the garage and slid onto the idling M1. Burgess dropped me off the stand, slapped my back and I idled down pit lane. Himatsu had reminded me to tug and pull on my leathers in strategic places while standing on the footpegs as I cruised down the pit lane and I did my best Rossi imitation. Just before I entered the Welkom front straight I was hit with a moment of panic: I'd forgotten to crouch down and pray to the left footpeg, Rossi's signature pre-ride ritual! I'd have to get that right prior to the race.
Capirossi and Melandri flashed by and my mind was immediately captivated by the difficulties of riding a MotoGP bike at full volume. Twenty minutes later I realized that the last six months of work had built a damn good bike and the #46 Yamaha was listed as fourth-quick in morning warm-up. And better yet, gritting his teeth and riding through the pain on Saturday, Rossi had somehow qualified “us” third on the grid.
The 30 minutes prior to the start of a MotoGP race is a circus, and a big part of that circus involves two warm-up laps. The first is a slow sighting lap, almost a parade lap for the fans to see the bikes and riders at slow speeds, and the second is a true near-race-pace warm-up lap. The problem was the 10 minutes between these two laps when the riders sit on the bikes with their helmets off, doing interviews or simply discussing things with their crews as photographers snap away.
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| The team goes through the motions of “fixing” the misfiring M1, while Lawson waits off-stage, ready to blast down pit lane and into the race. |
While I might look like Rossi in helmet and leathers since we're both relatively tall and skinny, there was no way our little deception could pass close inspection. As the horn sounded to announce the parade lap, Himatsu reminded me to pray to the footpeg and follow his plan to the letter.
Again, I stormed out of the motorhome fully dressed and walked right to the bike, remembered to crouch in front of the footpeg and moments later was funneling down pit road right next to Hopkins and Roberts on the Suzukis. With about three turns to go on the parade lap, I started to thumb the bar-mounted kill switch and everyone around me could hear the M1 cutting out as I looked down at the engine and made a show of being distressed. Instead of lining up in my grid spot, I took the sputtering Yamaha back onto pit lane and pulled to a stop in front of our garage.
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| Says Lawson, “I tried to ride 'like' Rossi, though here I'm not doing a very good job.” |
Burgess grabbed the bike as I jumped off and walked into the garage where Himatsu had placed my chair just around the corner. Everyone could see my legs and feet, but my upper body and head were hidden. You can imagine the amount of attention this apparent problem received and I just sat quietly sipping some water through a straw while Burgess and crew made a show of tearing the M1 apart.
As you may have guessed, Burgess found the “problem” just as the second warm-up lap was signaled and Himatsu gave me the sign to go. We had both agreed that the footpeg prayer would have to be skipped because there were just too many people swarmed around the bike, even though security was blowing their whistles to clear the area. I basically ran to the bike and the moment my butt hit the seat Burgess pushed me off. I caught a glimpse of Himatsu's face and he appeared to have aged 10 years in two days, but he gave me his trademark wink and smile.
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| Lawson had more M1 laps around the Welkom circuit than Rossi and it showed in the race. Try as he might, a frustrated Max Biaggi could not get past. |
I'm sure you all saw the race, saw me and Biaggi going back and forth, touching a few times, both of us riding right at the limit. If Biaggi had been on anything besides a Honda I wouldn't have pushed so hard to beat him, but I knew that Yamaha's future literally depended on beating Honda. As the laps wound down I hoped that this bike was still good on abused tires, and sure enough it was. How I felt at that moment is almost indescribable because I could see Max struggling and I knew my Yamaha had him covered. I snuck away from Biaggi to take the win—and that's when things got tricky.
Two things helped formulate the final part of Himatsu's plan. First of all, South Africa is a poorly attended race and secondly, Rossi likes goofy after-race celebrations. So here's what happened: On the cool-down lap I pulled over to the upright for the pedestrian bridge just out of Turn 6, way at the back of the circuit where the track dips into the valley and is practically invisible to everyone...except the TV cameras. I caught neutral and leaned the idling M1 against the bridge support and couldn't help but give the #46 a great big hug and a kiss, Rossi-style.
Then I jogged across the grass, uphill away from the corner-workers' station to where a cluster of portable toilets had been assembled for the safety workers. Himatsu had told me to look for the blue porta-potty and I saw it as I trotted over. Sure enough, a red and white Out of Order sign was plastered on the door. So far, so good.
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| Watch that hand! The real Rossi back in the paddock post-race, embracing his fans. |
I crowded against the door, flipped up my faceshield a half inch and said, “Vale, it's Eddie.” I heard the lock flip open and Rossi practically pulled me through the door, grabbing and shaking my shoulders in glee. “I listened to the whole race...you won, but better yet, you beat Biaggi!” There we were, hugging each other in a South African porta-potty, dressed in identical leathers, helmets, gloves and boots. Certainly the weirdest moment of my career, but also one of the most memorable.
Rossi's outfit was identical to mine, except for a Superman cape, some kind of weird orange scarf and a Yamaha-blue crown sitting on top of his AGV. He double-checked his crown and squeezed past me through the door, headed to the victory podium via our great M1. I took the only seat in the house to listen to the podium celebration over the PA system, knowing that Himatsu would pick me up in several hours after the track completely cleared. If you watch the tape you'll see how Rossi holds the trophy only in his left hand and his right glove never comes off.
So there you have it, the shocking, incredible, never-been-told story of “Rossi's” first win on the Yamaha YZR-M1. Oh, there is one more thing I should mention at this time: Happy April Fool's Day!!!
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| Many thanks to Eddie Lawson, Valentino Rossi, Jeremy Burgess and Yamaha for being good sports. With the exception of some historical data, this story and the incidents portrayed are a complete fabrication. |
Back to Part II
Back to Part I
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