THE BEST OF JODY’S BOX: SECOND IS THE SAME AS FIRST IN THE FIRST MOTO

BY JODY WEISEL

“Second is the same as first in the first moto,” said Jimmy Mac as I threw my goggles into the back of the Jodymobile. I was mad at myself. I could have won, but instead I dogged it on the last lap — content to let Fred Phalange win the first moto because I too knew that “second is the same as first in the first moto.”

Who makes up these homilies? Second isn’t the same as first, even though mathematically it is (if you make up for it by winning the second moto). The logic of a 2-1 beating a 1-2 is more oxymoron than hard fact.

EVERY TIME SOMEBODY BEATS YOU, IT MAKES THEM THINK THAT THEY CAN BEAT YOU—EVEN IF THEY CAN’T, THEY DID AND IF THEY DID, THEN THEY CAN.

“You’ll get him the next time,” said Jimmy Mac as I threw my helmet on top of my goggles.” I stopped and glared at him. How does he know I’ll get Fred the next time. If I had gotten him this time, I’d have some reason to believe that I could repeat it in the second moto, but I hadn’t and I wasn’t so sure anymore that I could. Second place, first moto or not, means that somebody beat me. It’s a confidence booster for him and a downer for me. Every time somebody beats you, it makes them think that they can beat you—even if they can’t, they did and if they did, then they can.

“Don’t worry about it,” said Jimmy. “It’s a one-line track with no place to pass. You’ll get the start in the next moto.” I ripped off my left glove and threw it on top of the my helmet and goggles. I knew that the Mac was only trying to be supportive, but Fred Phalange had passed me on that one-line, no-pass track. It was no comfort knowing that I had holeshot the first moto and got beat.

Lots of racer’s mechanics and frriends believe that they are Svengali’s. They think that a pep talk, a few trite phrases and a pat on the back will inspire their buddy to go faster. I wanted to tell Jimmy Mac to put a cork in it, but as I threw my chest protector on top of my goggles, helmet and gloves I realized that he meant no harm.

“Look at the first moto as a learning experience,” said J-Mac. “Take what you learned and smoke him in the second mode.” I looked for something else to throw into the back of my truck, but instead, bit my lip and sat down in a lawn chair. I pulled a towel over my head and tried to figure out what I had learned. (1) Never tell yourself not to wheelie off the gate, unless you want to wheelie off the gate. (2) Don’t tell yourself that second is the same as first in the first moto. (3) Pit farther away from Jimmy Mac next weekend.

I race in a class where I am far from the class of the field, so I don’t really expect to win, but when the opportunity presents itself, it would be a shame to squander it. I can beat Fred Phalange. Over the course of racing against him I had beaten him on a Honda, Yamaha, Kawasaki, Suzuki, ATK and KTM. Unfortunately, I’ve lost to him on all those brands (and a few that aren’t in business anymore).

WHEN THE GATE DROPPED, FRED AND I WENT AT IT! IF I KNEW WHAT HAMMER AND TONG MEANT, I’D SAY THAT’S HOW HARD WE RACED, BUT I’LL JUST SAY WE WERE TOOTH AND NAIL.

“Just ride your own race,” said Jimmy as I pulled my chest protector, gloves, goggles and helmet on for the second moto. I smiled and nodded, all the while asking myself what that meant. I had planned on riding my own race — it was race three on the day’s program. “And remember,” he said. “second is the same as first in the first moto.”

When the gate dropped, Fred and I went at it! If I knew what hammer and tong meant, I’d say that’s how hard we raced, but I’ll just say we were tooth and nail. He dove in front of me at the Mechanic’s turn, but I stuffed him in Rattlesnake Gulch. At the top of the Freeway, he refused to shut off and pushed me onto the bank. I tore down 50 feet of track banner, but used the outside berm at the bottom of the downhill to blow by him. For 12 laps we dueled and diced (and even Julianned). It was an epic battle that saw us come through the pack like were were super-glued together. As we blasted into the woods for the last time, I knew that if I blocked him before Devil’s Drop, I’d beat him to the checkers. We brushed elbows just before the Drop (except it was my left elbow brushing his left elbow). That was all it took. I coasted across the line — the victor in my personal duel with Fred Phalange. I was elated.

“Jimmy,” I yelled as I threw my bike on it’s stand. “You were right. I didn’t need to worry. I learned from my mistakes, rode my own race (which just happens to be dirty by nature) and proved that second is the same as first in the first moto. Why the glum look?”

“Second is only the same as first if you win the second moto,“ said Jimmy quietly. “It was a great race, but you and Fred were racing for second and third. Crazy Dave got the overall win with a 3-1.”

“What do you mean?” I asked incredulously.

“Don’t quote me,” he said, “but I turns out that third is the same as first in the first moto.”

 

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