First Person/Opinion

By Nick Ienatsch/ChampSchool

At a recent ChampSchool dinner, two of our instructors introduced an interesting subject that began with a question: Why are some track-day riders and coaches such A-holes?

Both of these instructors have enormous and proven talent when lapping a motorcycle, matched with the humility that comes from crashing yourself out of the lead of a race, and being beaten by a better rider on inferior equipment. Both have a lot of spine, a lot of pride, but it is carried quietly and only pokes out when the faceshields close.

They are blindingly fast, metronomically consistent, and let their riding (and winning) do the talking.

I would describe them as “humble,” but let’s not kid ourselves: They are self-absorbed because risking your health on two wheels is best done with focused self-analysis, introspection, and continuous evolution based on that analysis and introspection. Racers leave the crowded pit and are alone with only their physical skills and mental approach. It is all about “you” out there. To succeed, you must be selfish.

An Answer

My answer to their question was, “Every time I witness the attitude you’re talking about, I think to myself, ‘That guy hasn’t raced at a high enough level.’” They laughed. They agreed.

The more you climb the racing ladder, the more soundly humility is beaten into you, bringing the lasting realization that you are not God’s gift to motorcycle racing. You are smoked by riders who are doing a better job setting up the bike and circulating the track.

Measurably the Best

Motorcyclist magazine hired me in 1984, smack-dab in the middle of American GP dominance. In the ensuing years, I met world and national champions. I liked all of them and saw that the thread of quiet confidence was woven through each man.

You would never know that Eddie Lawson was the 500cc World Champion four times if you were alone with him at lunch. Scott Russell and Freddie Spencer have enormous back bone, but are consistently gracious and cordial to anyone they meet, both instructing our sport with unselfish joy. They were the best in the world, but from my observation, they don’t feel they are better than anyone else.

I said that at dinner, the whole table agreed and the discussion moved to fabulously fast motorcyclists who were full of racetrack fight but equally full of humility. Blake Davis, a two-time MotoAmerica national champion (so far) sat quietly at the end of the table, taking part in the conversation but not being a know-it-all.

And the comparison was starkly made. A 20-year-old national champion versus track-day “big fish in a small pond” participants and coaches who complain about slower riders in the Advanced group, forgetting that they were the slowest only two years ago. Riders whose lap times make them feel superior to anyone slower. Riders who spend big for the latest and greatest, looking down at any lesser machines. Coaches who look down on anyone not keeping up, getting angry at mistakes, instructing negatively. These are riders who could mentor, lead, help slower riders but are in a small kingdom of their own making, high above the plebes who are not as fast.

This personality is opposite of every world or national champion I have met. Every Big Fish simply needs to study America’s winningest AMA/MotoAmerica rider, Josh Hayes, for the definition of quiet, humble confidence. Super fast, enormously successful, not flapping his lips about his greatness or the weakness of others. He’s the same humble, amiable person whether winning, losing, or crashing. That’s what we call “good for the industry”.

Change and Grow

I write this because all ships will rise in our small sport-bike industry if we adapt the humility of the best riders I have ever met. Rookie riders arrive at the track nervous and unsure, so Mr. Big Fish’s haughtiness and dismissiveness is just one more reason to quit this expensive hobby. Mr. Big Fish’s personality can rub off on those around him, creating a class of elitism that poisons the entire paddock, moving away from mentoring and instruction and understanding and help and fun to one of “you suck because you’re slower”. Big Fish coaches devolve into delivering negative and derogatory feedback with no idea of the delicious “compliment sandwich” that will inspire while correcting. Who wants to spend money and time in an endeavor that doesn’t welcome and encourage?

Going racing will create that change, but so will awareness…and a good memory. Any of us who are getting a bit full of ourselves need to think back to the struggles and mistakes we made. Remember how difficult riding well is. Give grace to those around you when they are less than perfect. And know that, in our experience as instructors, nobody is making mistakes on purpose, they are simply at the edge of their physical and mental talents for that corner and that day. Help is the answer, not scolding.

Remember your past. Give grace. Grow our sport. Find the champion’s balance of confidence and humility. Be a positive influence. Or go racing at a higher level: Humility will find you.

-Nick Ienatsch