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... ciao Sic ...

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sfPM77TsGaA&NR=1
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lboSRZT2 ... e=channnel

da motogpnews


Do two negatives make a positive? Not always. Take the French. Snooty yet cowards. Do these two strong garlic-infused traits make the French a loveable set of cheeky chaps? No of course they don't. Nor will it ever.

But with steely determination we had to play the 'double negative' game.

Negative 1: The 2008 MotoGP season.
The earliest known record of any racing season dates back to sometime in BC when Henry the Eighth, bible in hand, bet William Tell during the battle Agincourt that his twig could float under Hadrian Wall's bridge faster than William's. William lost the race but claimed Henry had had a home river advantage and that there should be a rematch in the river Aire next to Stonehenge to make things even. Sadly William lost that race too. And later that day got an arrow in his after trying to fend off the Vikings…meanwhile Henry's son, Captain Cook, was about to invent America.
Since that first championship there have been many, many crap seasons of racing in all disciplines. With NASCAR taking a fair slice. But maybe, even including NASCAR's 'racing in a circle all day' formula, nothing has ever been as dull as the 2008 MotoGP season.
Worse still this particular race was missing Thumbelina Pedrosa - a rider so dull that his featureless expression can remove the gloss from bathroom paint - making viewing even less appealing. When Dani 'sit for your position' Pedrosa is needed to liven up proceedings you know you're in trouble. Or in Sweden. Or possibly both.

Negative 2: Laguna Seca
Everyone loves Laguna Seca…or at least they think they do. But in actual fact it's been a shite circuit for MotoGP continuously delivering us all the drama and excitement of a rambling holiday with Kimi Raikkonen.

So could these two negatives give us a positive? The insomniacs believed not. Those unfortunate percentage who failed to get some sleep whilst watching the Formula 1 earlier in the day were now settling down with a warm, milky drink expecting the MotoGP borefest to shut down their brain and finally close their bloodshot eyes.
But it wasn't to be. Instead we were to have an epic battle. Instead we were to have an epic battle. Instead we were to have an epic battle. Instead we were to have an epic battle. [Has it sunk it yet? Let's try it a couple more times…] Instead we were to have an epic battle. Instead we were to have an epic battle.

Before the race began Australian sulker Casey Stoner was so dominant that it looked as if he'd have time to grill a couple of tins of Fosters in pitlane after the race before the next man would arrive home. Fastest in all practice sessions and then easily fastest in qualifying it wasn't looking good for any rider that wasn't a sour-faced 12 year-old look-a-like. It didn't look good for us the viewer either.

From the off Casey led the way like he was captaining the First Fleet. But a certain yellow Italian wasn't about to let the Australian make him look stupid - his haircut was doing that. Into the infamous corkscrew section for the first time a fired up Valentino Rossi made his move and took the lead from Stoner. And so the epic battle began…

Knowing that Stoner had a) a face that looked as if it had just been doused in lemon juice and, more importantly b) a faster overall package Rossi wasn't about to let the son-of-a-convict get away. For every time Stoner made a sensible pass on Rossi the Italian was ready to counter it with a daring manoeuvre. Many of these manoeuvres skilfully used Casey's leg as a brake marker.
However things really turned nasty after Rossi, yellow, once again dived under Stoner at the corkscrew with all the grace and subtlety of a drunk Aussie at a royal banquet dinner. The amazing manoeuvre forced Rossi off the track and onto the sandy sand before randomly finding the tarmac and, amusingly, collecting Stoner for a brief off-track candlelit dinner. Rossi continued unaffected followed by an enraged Australian.

The pairing continued to race at a truly unbelievable pace. Despite tearing strips off each other they were so far ahead of the following pack that after they'd passed the overweight crowd could nip out for a few cheeseburgers and an IBS tablet and return to their double-sized seat before the third placed rider would even come into view.
And so it went on. Stoner was clearly the fastest. He also had the biggest teeth. Whether or not this was connected couldn't be proven at the time. After making a slight mistake and dropping back over a second Stoner was easily able to catch the basil odour of Rossi within a lap. We, and he, knew that to win he only had to make the break at the front.
But that was prove easier said than done. Especially if you have dysprosody.

Despite trying his very hardest Stoner was no match for the legendary skills of Rossi. This was to be proven strongest when Stoner put a pass on Rossi, clearly having the inside line to overtake, only for the fury Italian to ride around the Australian. It was to be too much, and in the end Stoner cracked like a sparrow's skull.

With ten laps remaining a desperate Stoner left his braking too late and, unlike Uccio, was forced to avoid the rear of Rossi running off the circuit. Whereas Rossi has the skill to ride at 100mph on the sand Stoner found at 3mph the Laguna beach too difficult and down he fell like a sack of unwanted cork-hats. Some of the impartial marshals cheered. Some of the others put down their chilli dogs and waddled over to the scene of the accident. The ambulance was then called, not for Casey - he'd gone, but for the many hyperventilating marshals. By the time the 'safety' staff made it to the scene of the accident the AMA Superbike support race was on - and Laguna was praised for its above average, all-American response time.

Rossi had won. And he totally deserved it.
Meanwhile Casey, bent boomerang and all, was still so far ahead of the third placed rider that he had enough time to gesticulate and then remount for an easy second.

Afterwards an enraged Stoner refused to shake Rossi's hand claiming the Italian had used violence instead of finesse to succeed. But as this was coming from an Australian everyone just laughed.

The excellent Chris Vermeulen made it two podiums in two - casting off his 'wet weather specialist only' riding tag and reinforcing his 'wet weather and Laguna Seca specialist only' riding tag.

Losers.

The biggest loser, for certain, was Antony West. After a season of being rubbish on the Kawasaki the Aussie reject took his dire performances to a whole new sub-plateau and was comprehensively beaten by the AMA pensioner Jamie Hacking riding as a wildcard. It was Hacking's first ever ride on the Kawasaki. Or a MotoGP bike. Ever. Yet the AMA rider was just 16 seconds away from lapping West.
It was remarked later that it was fortune for Anthony that the Laguna circuit is run anti-clockwise as if it were to have run clockwise he probably wouldn't have had enough speed to climb up the corkscrew.
At least West means there'll never be three Aussies on the podium this season.

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Lo Zio Tazio

"Io vi daró tutto ... basta che non domandiate nulla!"

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Lo Zio Tazio

"Io vi daró tutto ... basta che non domandiate nulla!"

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METEOROLOGO E CONSULENTE CINOFILO

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BRIVIDI A 300

di

ROMA - «Kevin, ma cosa hai fatto? Hai dimenticato che questo per noi è un gioco? Il nostro patto e la nostra amicizia finiscono qui». Hockehneim, 26 maggio 1991. Kevin Schwantz e Wayne Rainey filano carena contro carena per tutto il Gran premio di Germania. Duello tra due fuoriclasse, due campioni del mondo, icone sacre di Suzuki e Yamaha, americani dell’Ovest tutti e due con in comune tante storie, ma soprattutto l’amore per le sfide e per le motociclette. Cowboys veri. Wayne è davanti a Kevin, ultimo giro, siamo all’ingresso del Motodrom. Wayne sceglie la traiettoria stretta e chiude, Kevin gli piomba addosso dall’esterno con la Suzuki tutta di traverso per un centinaio di metri. E’ uno dei primi, grandi traversi della storia del motociclismo su pista. Una manovra che allora sembrò rischiosa a tanti e soprattutto a Rainey: forse immaginò l’incidente di Misano ’93, che da allora lo tiene su una sedia a rotelle.
Il motociclismo è sport di squadra, come diceva Cadalora, ma con un alto contenuto individuale. Per questo è anche una storia di grandi duelli, che si accendono gara su gara, ma si spalmano anche nell’arco di campionati se non addirittura nella durata di una vita al manubrio. Prima Agostini-Hailwood-Read, poi Sheene e Roberts, Lucchinelli-Mamola, Lawson-Doohan e Rainey-Gardner, Biaggi-Doohan e poi Biaggi-Rossi e adesso Rossi-Stoner.
Ognuno ha la sua bestia nera. Quello che lo fa soffrire. E’ una questione tecnica e psicologica, fisica e caratteriale, e si allunga anche su alcuni lati umani, tipo buono o cattivo. Ettore e Achille usavano la spada perché non c’erano le motociclette.
Guardando indietro, le epoche del motomondiale sono caratterizzate da grandi campioni e altrettanti vice campioni. Una volta le classi erano sei, dalla 50 alla 500, si cominciava a correre alle otto di mattina e si finiva alle cinque del pomeriggio se non c’erano i side. Mick Hailwood poteva consumare le sue rivincite nella 250, dove non c’era Giacono Agostini, ma anche contro Ago, Mick the bike, non partiva certo battuto. Agostini però non temeva Hailwood, e lo rispettava per il coraggio, la sincerità e quel modo strambo di vivere le corse: era velocissimo, ma alle gare non si è mai dato completamente. Come del resto Loris Reggiani rispetto a Cadalora. Ago invece non sopportava Phil Read: lo trovava sospettosamente silenzioso, lo sentiva sempre in agguato, era veloce e cattivo.
Marco Lucchinelli, campione del mondo della 500 nell’81, poteva vincere titoli a manciate se non avesse incontrato Spencer. Quando dopo il titolo lasciò la Suzuki per la Honda, l’allora team manager gli disse: «Marco, ti spiace se come compagno di squadra ti affianco un giovane americano? Mi sembra si chiami Freddy, Freddy Spencer». E’ lì che si incrociarono le carriere di Lucchinelli e Spencer, il primo che guidava rotondo e pulito, l’altro che invece introdusse lo “spigolamento”, vale a dire dividere alcune curve a segmenti, piegare molto per poco tempo, tirare su la moto e dare subito gas. Cominciò l’era Spencer, ora di Rossi e Stoner.
Freddy trovo sulla sua strada Eddie Lawson, si divisero i punti ma Spencer gli lasciò più segni. Lui e Lucchinelli avevano qualcosa in più di Mamola e Uncini, che tuttavia vinse il titolo nell’82. Ma il corpo a corpo per definizione fu ad Assen nel 1979: Virginio Ferrari e Barry Sheen, ultimo giro fatto di carena contro carena fino a spaccarle, primo e secondo.
Una storia infinita, che passa anche per Biaggi-Doohan a Suzuka nel 1998 e poi Doohan-Biaggi al Mugello (Max aveva la mano sinistra con i chiodi per tenere le fratture). E poi ancora Biaggi-Rossi: rivali per definizione, anche se i risultati premiano Valentino. Due campioni contro e un po’ di veleno. E’ la corsa perfetta, come domenica a Laguna.

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Lo Zio Tazio

"Io vi daró tutto ... basta che non domandiate nulla!"

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Lo Zio Tazio

"Io vi daró tutto ... basta che non domandiate nulla!"