Michael Scott | June 21, 2023
Cycle News In The Paddock
COLUMN
TT or Not TT—A Record Year
Huge sigh of relief. The Isle of Man TT is over, with only (only!) one fatal accident.
Writing that sentence, and I imagine reading it, leaves a queasy feeling. But be clear, no disrespect is meant to the sole victim of the unforgiving challenge of the open roads of this rather quaint island. The premature death of Raul Torras Martinez (46) is of course entirely sad. Heartfelt condolences are due to the friends and family of a man who loved road racing, and ultimately gave his life to it.
The 46-year-old Spaniard knew what he was doing. It was his fifth TT week, and his 21st race on the island. That morning, in the Superstock TT, he had achieved a personal best lap of 125.470 mph, no mean feat. He’d finished 20th out of 38 on his Honda CBR1000RR-R Fireblade, earning his 18th Bronze Replica, a statuette awarded to those between 105 and 110 percent of the winner’s time (those within five percent earn a Silver Replica of the Montague Trophy, dating back to 1906).
That afternoon, riding an Aprilia RS660 in the Supertwins TT, he crashed almost halfway around in the last of three laps.
There is a line so often repeated as to have become painfully tired yet irreplaceable: “He died doing what he loved.” The comforting cliché.
This, however, against the backdrop of some 100 riders who didn’t die doing what they loved. Riders who didn’t crash, while riding absolutely flat out on twisting country roads, between hedges and stone walls, houses and haybarns—over a grand combined total of more than 44,000 miles.
And that’s only race miles, and only solo riders, not counting practice days or the sidecars.
There were eight solo races, whose 32 laps made a combined length of 1208 miles. By comparison, eight MotoGP races add up to plus-or-minus 600 miles, and around 12,000 rider-miles. Odious comparisons, perhaps, but interesting all the same.
It was a wonderful year of fine weather and broken records. Michael Dunlop, sole surviving racing member of road racing’s royal family, took his 25th TT win, approaching his late uncle Joey’s record tally of 26. And big-bike master Peter Hickman racked his own growing total up to 13 wins, and set a new average-speed record lap, on an almost standard BMW M 1000 RR.
Hickman’s speed, around the 37-and-three-quarter miles that include one near-stop hairpin, more than one hump-back bridges and a number of giddying jumps was a barely imaginable 136.358 mph.
The word “awesome” has been much devalued, when it might be used to describe (for example) a tasty salad dressing.
Anyone seeking its true meaning need look no further than this classic race, held in the early summer almost every year (wars, pandemics and on one occasion, strikes, permitting) since 1907, in the process surviving the loss of world-championship status in the 1970s, when its obvious dangers ruled it inadmissible.
It is an extraordinary festival of risk and bravery, where fear and admiration combine to create a genuine sense of awe.
It’s impossible not to have mixed feelings about the TT, for it really is absurdly dangerous. Disturbingly so. It is equally impossible not to be overcome with respect for those who take part in it—and not just those superhuman entities like Hickman, Dunlop, Dean Harrison and the rest. The same degree of respect is due to every starter. For all of them know what they are facing. Even if they haven’t read the usual chorus of “Why Do They Do It?” articles in the national press.
Well, why do they do it? And who’s asking, anyway?
The TT has been described, quite effectively, as a “horizontal Everest,” where the price for an error of judgement or even just being on the wrong side of circumstances frequently has fatal consequences.
It is an extraordinary festival of risk and bravery, where fear and admiration combine to create a genuine sense of awe.
But it’s not that accurate a comparison… not least because the death toll of the world’s tallest mountain is very much higher. This year alone, when some 800 people are predicted to attempt Everest, there have already been 13 deaths. The very worst year of the TT has come nowhere close, with a (still sickening) total of six deaths, first in 1970 and sadly repeated last year, the numbers swelled by two tragedy-stricken sidecar crews.
Body counts are distasteful, of course, if inevitable. But they must be measured against achievement and free will. The right to take on the challenge, and to face odds that in the final analysis are actually more in your favor than not.
Personal freedom is increasingly curtailed, politically correct life-choices are ever more limited. It’s important that this paragon of personal choice should exist, and to flourish. A chance for people to do what they love, even if they might die doing it.
Whether other people approve or not.CN