Sunday. Race day. Clearly, the racing gods are pleased with our behavior. It was one of those invigorating mornings where the grass is still wet and the skies are having a battle between the clearing clouds and the unstoppable sun. This battle was over by 10:00 a.m. and the sun set its rays beaming across Massachusetts with the clarity of an angel’s voice. Today’s arrival was completely different. This time, 15,000 people joined me as they gave birth to the wonderful crowded chaos of vendor's row. As I walked through the mass, I smiled and those words ran through my mind once again. “Motocross is alive and well.”
On what I consider a perfect day, there was of course the pinnacle of the experience. I had spoken with Kyle Chisholm’s mother earlier that morning and she nervously talked to me about young Kyle and his blossoming career. I have known the family for almost a decade, and it is such a reward to see kids make as far as guys like Kyle, Matt Goerke, and Zach Osborne have. When the gate slammed down and I saw #732 grabbing gears in the lead, my heart just pounded with amazement and satisfaction. It was a really, really powerful personal moment. Motocross is alive and well. Be that as it may, it was my second-favorite experience of the day.
Ricky Carmichael and James Stewart had once again engaged in combat. Ricky dogged the young Stewart relentlessly and the crowd’s noise of approval grew, as did the ferocity his attack. Ricky finally made his move, and as he did, I took a look out across the track and took in the sound and the fury the legion of roaring, arms-raised fans emitted. Big smiles. I looked down at my watch to see how much time was left and noticed a group of kids sitting around a hand-carved rendition of a motocross track in the dirt. The kids weren’t even watching. They had a race going on of their own.
Motocross is alive and well.
Thanks for reading, see you next week.