Welkom – 18.04.2004… from a Max fan

The oriental eyes are two slits as they look at the track; today is not just any day, honor, reputation, a very conception of life is at stake.
The elf from Tavullia knows this well; from the front of the line he masks the tension by greeting the camera in his usual pleasant and mocking way.

Then the visors lower, and there is no room left but for the truth.

Let's go!

The engines accelerate angrily, the pilots' fingers release the clutch that harnesses the angry power that pulsates in the mechanical heart.
It's the premier class, the MotoGP, 240hp monsters.

Yamaha number 46 is immediately in the lead; Honda number 3 makes a mistake, goes sideways, but in a couple of corners recovers all the lost ground.
The golden-haired Spaniard, the revelation of 2003, tries to interfere, but is immediately chased back: today there will be no fight except between the two of them, the unfinished champion and the boy who plays.
The two motorbikes attack the track; they surpass each other.
“They're lapping at qualifying pace” shouts the speaker from the TV “it's incredible, how long will the tires last?”
But the two don't slow down; every drop of energy, every mental strength, every fiber of the soul, everything today is at stake, everything is given.
There has never been love between 3 and 46, but today is a special day; the phenomenon of Tavullia is racing to conquer the island of him that is not there, his right to remain a child, not to be classified, filed, humiliated. He will not give in, no matter what.

The oriental eyes that follow the race narrow even more; their former driver, the undisciplined, the impertinent, the one who dared to challenge them... is he at home in command of the GP? It's the bike, the brand that counts, not the man.

For the leading duo there isn't a moment's respite; the boy on the blue motorbike hears the constant, obsessive, omnipresent noise of the yellow motorbike following him. The jewel, the perfect motorbike, the one coveted, envied and cursed by every rider, but which he had the strength to leave behind. And he hears the voices, the accusations, the injustices: "He's crazy", "he's presumptuous", "he won't accomplish anything", "he's always won for the motorbike"..., which make more noise than the motorbike.
The pain, the one that accompanied him in his choice.
But it doesn't do anything.
Today is the day of truth.

With five laps to go the number 3 Honda takes the lead again; even old Max runs today to slap the last years of humiliations, recriminations, regrets. Too many times he felt mocked and mocked by that yellow demon who appeared to ruin his life, too many times he felt limited by a mechanical means inferior to that of his rival. But today the positions are reversed, today he can win.

The attack comes lightning fast with two laps to go: Yamaha number 46 is once again in the lead.
“Come on, come on beautiful, we can do it!” the elf from Tavullia tells her.
The betrayed lover, the motorbike that was one thing with him is behind him.

But Max doesn't fit; he too wants to win today.

“It's not possible, they lapped the whole race at 1,33!” TV commentators can't believe their eyes looking at the times on the monitors.

It's the last lap: the boy dressed in blue talks to his motorbike, encourages it, spurs it on; the old rival behind him doesn't give in, he doesn't want to, he has given everything he had, but he finds the strength for one last, desperate, useless leap.

“VALENTINO IS THERE, VALENTINO IS THERE!!!” screams the TV “BIAGGI, TRACK RECORD ON THE LAST LAP!!!, AN INCREDIBLE RACE!!!”

It happens in a moment.
The moment of truth.
A whole race at an infernal pace, draining all physical and mental energy.
The two longtime rivals find themselves close together and shake hands in a greeting that is good for the soul.
The disagreements of life will return, but the moment in which you are naked in front of the other is the moment in which you have given everything; and today the two gave everything, everything they could.

Then the Champion's eyes become moist; he leans the motorbike against the wall. And he cries.

Welkom, 18 April 2004.
Valentino Rossi on Yamaha wins the opening GP of the MotoGP world championship, beating Giacomo Agostini's previous record with 23 consecutive podiums and equaling Barry Sheene's record of four consecutive victories in four world championship starts.
He also becomes the first rider to have won two consecutive races in the maximum displacement with two different bikes.

It will remain a page of history in this sport. I was there (on television, but I was there)

Mike1964