THE BEST OF JODY’S BOX: “HE WHO EXCUSES HIMSELF, ACCUSES HIMSELF!”
By Jody Weisel
Team managers, mechanics and those close to you are tough. They have seen it all and don’t suffer fools easily. When someone supports your racing career with everything they’ve got, they deserve a lot of the credit. They take care of all the details so that you can concentrate on your riding. Even the lowest privateer has someone who keeps him on the straight and narrow. And, I am no different. I owe a lot of my success to the people who stand behind me every week.
Take last week’s race as an example. I was excited to call after the race and report how I did.
“Hey, guess what? I won,” I yelled into the phone.
“You weren’t cherry picking again were you?”
“No,” I said. “It was my regular class against all the good guys.”
“How muddy was it?”
“It wasn’t muddy. It was sunny. What makes you think it was muddy?” I asked.
“Oh, nothing. I just thought that the track conditions must have been quite unusual if you won.”
Jody and the Field Marshall, Ed Scheidler.
“The track was perfect. I dominated both motos,” I said.
“How many people were in your class?”
“I don’t know, 15 or 20,” I replied.
“Which one? Fifteen or 20?”
“More like 17,” I said. “It was all the good guys.”
“How did Crazy Dave do?”
“His bike blew up in practice, but I would have beaten him if he had raced. I was gone in both motos,” I said defensively.
“What about Jimmy Floyd?”
“He had to go to a wedding,” I said meekly. “But I beat his brother Monte, and he’s almost as fast as Jimmy.”
Roger and Jody.
“How about Jimmy Mac?”
“I beat him bad,” I said proudly.
“Stumpy Phalange?”
“I lapped him. I lap him every week,” I said.
“Don’t be a bad winner. Show respect for your competition if you want them to show respect to you.”
“I like Stumpy, but he is the slowest guy in the class. I never see him after the gate drops,” I said.
“Who got the holeshot in the first moto?”
“I did. It was beautiful,“ I said.
Jody and Lovely Louella.
“Did anyone go down in the first turn?”
“I know what you’re implying,” I said, “but, no one got to the first turn in front of me, nobody fell. I was a bike length ahead and I was never challenged.”
“How long was the moto?”
“It was 20 minutes,” I said.
“How many laps?”
“Eight,” I replied.
“What were your lap times?”
“About two minutes,” I said.
“That only adds up to a 16-minute moto. What did you do in the second moto?”
“I got a bad start and worked my way up to second place before the end,” I said defensively.
“I thought you said you were gone in both motos.”
“I did dominate both motos,” I said. “I came from the back of the pack and caught the leader, but I didn’t have to pass him because he had finished sixth in the first moto. My 1-2 was good enough for the overall. I could have passed him, but I didn’t need to.”
“That is a very poor attitude to take into life.”
“It was smart strategy,” I said.
“To me, it sounds like you settled for second best. I don’t want to hear about you taking the easy route in the future. If you ever want to amount to anything in life, you need to give it everything you’ve got. Giving less than 100 percent is cheating yourself.”
Tom White and Jody.
“But, I won!” I said.
“On paper, but deep down inside you know that the winner of the second moto was better than you and, because you didn’t pass him, he knows it too.”
“He’s not better than I am,” I said. “This was the first moto he has won all year long.”
“Wasn’t this the first moto that you have won all year long?”
“Yeah, but I had the flu for a couple weeks, my clutch slipped while leading two months ago, and I got passed on the last lap back in January,” I said.
“He who excuses himself, accuses himself.”
“Okay, but I think I’m at the start of a winning streak,” I said.
“I’ll be surprised if you win again, but I’m happy for you.”
“Thanks, mom,” I said.
