CRT Heroes

May 14th, 2012


This, race fans, is Danilo Petrucci, one of the brave souls trying his luck on the future of MotoGP hardware, in his case the doggedly underpowered Came IodaRacing Project machine. Not on a (relatively) zippy Aprilia ART, or a Honda-powered FTR, Petrucci qualifies on the same grid as Casey Stoner and Jorge Lorenzo, and brings to this gunfight a knife that packs a whopping 185 bhp, compared to the factory prototype engines that are rumored to be around 260 bhp.

As I photograph a race, I see a much different version of the event than TV viewers. I watch the recorded TV broadcast later, and can tell you that there is a lot going on with the Claiming Rule Team bikes that doesn’t make in onto TV. I’m generally moving the entire time (when I haven’t stopped to photograph a turn obviously), so I see the entire field go past, lap after lap. Since Qatar I’ve noticed that most of the CRT talk has centered around the machines, and that no one I’ve seen has talked much about what the CRT riders are going through.

Though we currently have in the sub-set of MotoGP bikes a group of machines that are less expensive to run and correspondingly less impressive in the performance category, the fellows riding them are not similarly handicapped when it comes to racing spirit. They aren’t trying half as hard because they have no chance to win. Much of the time it seems just the opposite; because they don’t want to be six seconds a lap slower, they are trying that much harder merely to get within four seconds of the fastest times.

The current CRT rider list is as follows: Colin Edwards, Randy de Puniet, Aleix Espargaro, Mattia Pasini, Michele Pirro, Yonny Hernandez, James Ellison, Ivan Silva, and Danilo Petrucci. That is a group of racers, not a list of hacks who’d otherwise be digging ditches if CRT hadn’t come along. But if you think it’s tough to be stuck on a satellite bike and racing against Stoner and Lorenzo, try lining up on Sunday with a chassis that can barely handle its measly 185 bhp.

Some will say that these CRT riders are lucky to have spots on the MotoGP grid, are being paid to perform a service, and that we shouldn’t feel too much pity for their situations. And there may be truth to this opinion. But when I pass by the CRT garages and see these riders waiting to go out on track, I don’t see men happy just be to part of the MotoGP show. I see racers who know they’re going into battle without a fighting chance.

If these riders got more TV time you might also see just how hard they are riding their ponies against the thoroughbreds. There is some part of the racer’s mind that can only be so philosophical about being on a overmatched machine. Each of them wants to exceed the expectations of his motorbike, and while they speak about battling for top CRT as their goal, I suspect that this achievement represents the minimum level of satisfaction.

Beating a factory prototype is much more of a goal for the rational parts of their brains, while the irrational/racer part doesn’t give a flying handshake about the CRT element and wants a podium. On the grid at Estoril, Aleix Espargaro was interviewed by Azi Farni of the BBC, and when asked what his plan was as best-qualifying CRT bike, he said “Just try to be with Pedrosa and Stoner during the race, then win on the last lap.” He then laughed at the hilarity of his joke as Ms. Farni replied, “Brilliant, good luck with that.”

Though spoken tongue-in-cheek, Espargaro’s joke is telling about his situation. Top CRT is simply not that exciting when it’s also 12th place. When you’re riding your heart out, as all of these guys are, and you come in dead last, and a lap down as Petrucci did in Estoril, it’s got to be difficult to console yourself by saying, “Oh well, my bike is 30-40 kph slower than the prototypes and 10-15 kph slower than the other CRT bikes. I did pretty good!” No, I suspect that only one word means anything among the list of mitigating circumstances for a racer: last.

After three races it seems to me that not enough credit is being given to the CRT riders. They are being asked to race on machines that can’t possibly win (even a satellite prototype can’t win unless a series of unusual events takes care of the factory bikes), and then trust that their performances will be judged in context. Espargaro finished 12th at Estoril, top CRT, a minute and twenty seconds behind Stoner. But as I watched from trackside, he and the other CRT riders were wringing every bit of performance out of their bikes, risking their lives for no glory whatsoever.

So though they don’t get much TV time, have no chance at a podium, and do very well indeed to finish a race on the same lap as the leaders, I count their efforts as heroic. I’ve always liked to cheer for the underdog, and with 2012′s CRTs, we’ve taken ‘underdog’ to a new level. Hang in there, Danilo. Your bike is a slug, but you’re doing a great job with what you’ve got.

Jerez MotoGP Thursday

April 26th, 2012

Here are a few iPhone photos from the area. Last night we went for a walk in downtown Jerez as the light was fading. It wasn’t as colorful to the naked eye as this photo, which went a bit overboard with the digital tricks, but the setting is quaint and charming.


Out at the circuit the talk was mainly about the pending weather as some impressive clouds came and went, then came back. We’re pretty sure it’ll rain at some point this weekend.


Come Sunday that grandstand should be packed if Spain’s considerable unemployment doesn’t keep too many of the fans away.


Back in November I posted a piece on MotoMatters about the MotoGP championship trophy and how it was created. I have since become friends with the designer/creator, Marc Garcia, and he surprised me here at Jerez by sending with one of the Moto2 riders this bottle which he made for me. It’s painted as if it were a rider helmet, with gorgeous black sparkling paint and my Scott Jones Photography logo. I’m really touched by this thoughtfulness.


Rossi spoke to journalists in the afternoon and it’s clear that Ducati’s troubles are still weighing heavily on his mind. His best bet for a good result is a wet race, but it’s not going to rain all season so the bike’s issues in the dry still need attention.

Voices of MotoGP

April 23rd, 2012


When I entered the media center at Losail a few weeks ago, I happened to be thinking about how many people contribute to our enjoyment of MotoGP. From the journalists who write the background stories and race reports, to photographers who show us things we can’t see on video, to the large number of people who produce the TV feed, each has his or her role in bringing us closer to the racing and increasing our enjoyment of what we see.

Years ago I was an avid bicycle racer, very much inspired by watching Greg Lemond take on the world in a sport dominated by Europeans. The TV broadcasts featured the commentary of a man named Phil Liggett, who still works as one of the main voices of cycling broadcasts in English. Liggett’s enthusiasm and passion for cycling are inseparable from my experience of watching those 1980s Tours de France (and every one since, in fact), and he has stuck in my mind as someone who will be, for many, as big a part of the events he described as the events themselves.

For as annoying as poor commentary can be, good commentary can bring to the viewer’s experience an element of enjoyment that comes only from being simultaneously educated and entertained. In MotoGP we are fortunate to have a team of commentators who bring a unique combination of expertise and passion for their subject to the British Eurosport broadcasts. Toby Moody and Julian Ryder are similarly inseparable from the MotoGP experience of the Eurosport viewer as Phil Liggett has been for many cycling fans.

So I asked Toby and Julian if I might join them briefly during a broadcast. For this request I had a very selfish reason: I wanted to have at least a handful of images of Toby and Julian at work for my archive, because to me, they are a significant part of the greater MotoGP story. In typically gracious form, they welcomed me into their small room there at Losail and said I could snap away while they worked.

Though many reading this will be familiar with the passion they bring to each broadcast, the audio of their commentary doesn’t show us what’s actually going on in the booth, so I thought I would describe that briefly to go along with a few images from the 10 minutes I spent with them during the Moto2 FP2 session.

The first thing that struck me is that what they make look so easy is in fact quite difficult. They work from notes they’ve gathered between sessions, notes scribbled after chats with people in the paddock, and made never knowing exactly what they might have an opportunity to share with the audience. The view out of the booth is very narrow, and their comments are made responding mainly to what they see on two monitors, one with the world feed and the other with the official timing information. If you don’t think this is difficult, try turning the sound down and see if you can say anything interesting in real time while the action goes on in front of you.

But the most impressive thing to me was how they work in tandem nearly as a single intelligence to maintain the rhythm of the commentary. They use hand signals, nods of the head, and voice inflection to lead each other along a shared path of live commentary that is often much more interesting than what is happening on track. I am accustomed to hearing the finished product, but seeing it happen before me allowed me to appreciate how much skill goes in to making the performance look easy. There’s the old cliché of the married couple, each of whom can finish the other’s sentences, and Toby and Julian certainly have an element of that type of relationship, based on years of working together and knowing instinctively what the other is going to be thinking five or even ten seconds in the future.

The result is that we are gathered into their world of two close friends talking about a sport they truly love. The immense knowledge they share between them and the way in which they share it makes us care about what we are seeing as they talk, and in instances like the first rounds of the season, this is even more important than usual. Even they are still learning what the new Moto3 bikes look like, which rider is on which bike, and what it is about a given personality that is interesting or otherwise something we should care about. Any sport, even motorcycle racing is, after all, boring unless you care about the outcome. Toby and Julian are able to pass along their own intense interest in the results of each session, and to me that is what makes their broadcast so special. When they are going crazy because some Moto3 rider you’ve never heard of just passed another Moto3 rider you’ve never heard of, the fact that they care so much about what has just happened is usually enough to get your interest.

I fully expect that the millions of viewers who enjoy MotoGP on British Eurosport will look back on the Moody-Ryder broadcasts with as much affection as they do having watched Rossi tell his story from season to season. I fully hope that the Moody-Ryder broadcasts continue for many years to come.

Sincerest thanks to Toby and Julan both from me personally and on behalf of MotoMatters for allowing me into their world and for the tremendous job they do.

Che Spettacolo, Redux?

April 13th, 2012

Romano Fenati on the grid, Qatar, 2012

Ladies and gentlemen, this may be Italy’s best chance to replace Valentino Rossi. Romano Fenati was at the heart of an amazing story in Qatar. The Italian Motorcycle Federation brought a last-minute effort to the Moto3 race with no sponsorship and a rider unknown to practically all but themselves. (Once the buzz started, I asked about him and no one I talked to had ever heard of him.) But the 16-yr-old finished 2nd to a much more experienced Maverick Vinales in his debut GP.

In the Dubai airport while waiting for the connecting flight to Qatar, I chatted with an Italian photographer about the Rossi problem. With great passion (no surprise), it was explained to me that Italy’s love for MotoGP is much more a love for Valentino Rossi than for anything to do with motorcycle racing. My friend felt the situation was similar to when Alberto Tomba had won those Olympic gold medals and suddenly Italians were skiing and showing great enthusiasm for that sport. Once Tomba faded from international prominence and his successes ended, Italian interest in skiing fizzled. The same will happen when Rossi leaves MotoGP, or so my friend fully expects.

This is a problem not only for Italy, but for Dorna (the company that runs MotoGP as a business), the FIM (the sanctioning body of international motorcycle racing), and for MotoGP fans everywhere. MotoGP’s success in the last decade plus has been driven largely by global enthusiasm for not just Rossi’s successes but for his personality and panache on and off track. Though others have tried to copy his style, for example with their own remarkable post-win theatre, you can’t choose to have that special something Rossi has shown us any more than you can choose to be clever. You either have it or you don’t, and no one in MotoGP right now has it other than Rossi.

Someone who had, if not the same thing, something that might do just as well was Marco Simoncelli. But we lost him and his potential to win, thrill and inspire last season at Sepang.

In Qatar, this recent conversation was in my mind as I observed Fenati. Beyond his obvious abilities on track, he has a charm that can’t be created by sheer effort. He’s a stocky little guy, with a full face and broad shoulders, physically much different in appearance from the other adolescents on the Moto3 grid. As the poster boy for the Italian Motorcycle Federation’s unsponsored effort in Moto3, he was a star, leading time sheets and placing second in his debut grand prix. It’s perhaps too soon to tell if he has enough of that charm to keep people who love the Rossi magic interested in MotoGP. But he is certainly someone to keep an eye on as the season progresses. And if the kid shows up to Jerez still with no sponsors plastered all over a plain white helmet, well, that just ain’t gonna happen.

It’s All at the Mall

April 2nd, 2012

Ski Dubai


Wikipedia lists 68 shopping malls in Dubai with even more under construction, so today we thought we’d see what this mall thing is about. Being American I thought I knew something about shopping. Turns out, not really.

We started off by going skiing. Ski Dubai is an indoor ski facility in the Mall of the Emirates (6.5 million square feet with hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands of stores? It’s hard to tell.). Artificial snow is maintained inside a large space with a single chair lift and several snow play activities. Only some of the customers actually skied, though E and her mom did for most of their 2-hour session in gear and clothes included with the rental price. B and I watched/napped from the adjacent Costa Coffee.

Are you smiling?


Many folks just came to experience the desert oddity of snow, even if it was the man made kind. Lots of families dressed up in the thick clothing so different from their native garb and posed for photos at the various landmarks, the pretend tree, plastic ice sculpture, chair lift, etc. They seemed without exception to be having a ball and it was a lot of fun just to sit there and watch them enjoy themselves. The odd juxtaposition of traditional muslim garb with the new opportunities of wealth continued to be very interesting. Every 15 minutes or so my girls would float by on the chair lift as B snored in her stroller.

The Most Confused Fish In The World


After an après-ski rest back at the hotel, we tried the world’s largest Dubai Mall, which boasts an enormous indoor aquarium among its non-shopping related amenities. We felt bad for Emerati who might someday visit the Monterey Bay Aquarium and wonder what all the hype is about.

The Fountain, Dubai Mall


“The Fountain” is another cool distraction from the endless stores, and the several sections of this water work show silver divers in formation as water flows over rough stone beneath them. It’s very cool.

Speaking of cool, the weather has been very mild for the middle east desert, a blessing whenever out doors. But inside these malls I have to put a jacket on because it is so cold. It’s very strange. “Ok, going back outside where I can finally take this coat off.” And that isn’t including the Ski Dubai facility, which the girls reported was just as cold as skiing at Tahoe.

Willy Wonka would be proud.


We also explored what must be one of the world’s largest candy stores, with vast selections of sugar in various forms and every size you can imagine. One of us was in high-fructose heaven.

The Dubai Fountain dances to Michael Jackson's Thriller.


We ended up having dinner again by the Dubai Fountain, and I brought a good camera to take a decent photo this time. The water choreography to Thriller was good and included some “fog” at the beginning, mist created via the water nozzles, I guess. You can see an amateur video of this one here. But I was lucky to see the performance I’d enjoyed most from last night’s visit, set to a Japanese (I think) piece I didn’t recognize. The programming of the water was very artful and told a story that went well with the music, rather than just being rhythmical tricks. For a few minutes the fountain seemed to come alive and be something more than a series of jets controlled by a computer. It made me think of how almost anything we can control can become an art form if the right person is inspired to make it happen. It also reminded me that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, because when this number was over, I seemed to have been the only one who was moved by it. Most of the crowd seemed to like Thriller as much or more. Oh well. Whomever is responsible for the one I liked, thank you. That was gorgeous.

Dubai Dubai Du

April 1st, 2012

Shades on a mannikin in the textile souk.

It’s 11:30PM here in Dubai and the family is asleep after a long day of jet-lagged tourism. Since in a few days I’ll be on the strangest MotoGP schedule of the year (arriving at the Losail circuit in the late afternoon and working until around 3AM) I’m trying to stay up to make those first late nights a bit easier. So I thought I’d write up a few of our adventures to give a little taste of what Dubai looks like to us.

Until a few hours ago, it looked very similar to Doha, Qatar as I’ve experienced it for the last three years. We drove from the airport to our Marriott residence apartment in the dark, spent today in one of the older sections of town, and saw many of the same kinds of things I’m used to in Doha. Then for dinner we took a taxi south and saw a side of Dubai that put an entirely new perspective on Doha.

Off-duty water taxis resting on Dubai Creek

Our hotel is near Dubai Creek, a term largely understated as the waterway is wide and deep as it wanders to the ocean. The original Dubai settlement from centuries ago was on the shore of the ‘creek’ and the old section of town retains some of that ancient feel similar to how the old section of Doha does the same. We took a water taxi from our side of the river to the other, after misreading the sign that the fare was going to add up to 150 Dirhams. As we stepped onto the barnacle barge with the smoky engine, I thought the price was a bit steep for the accommodation, and when the driver looked at the four of us, which includes a 7-yr-old and a 2-yr-old, he said something like “thirty,” or so I thought. But thirty sounded much better than 150, so I handed over a 50 Diram note, only to receive as change 47 Dirams. The fare was 1 each, about 30 cents in US currency. But ever the seasoned traveller, I’d have handed over 150 if he’d asked for it, or paid the 30 and felt like I’d gotten a deal.

Naming your local business to attract English speakers ain't easy.

Once on the other side of the river, E, my first-grader, spied the word Strange on a shop and was wondering what it might be about. She thought she saw candy so we risked out lives to cross a hectic street to investigate. The only strange thing was the name, the folks inside pleasant and friendly as they tended their tidy displays of sweets and nuts. E got to put a handful of candies in a plastic back for weighing, while I got a bag of not very spicy “spicy” cashews. They look spicy, but can’t compete with a palate that has been beaten into submission by habanero abuse.

We then wandered along the river, looking for the museums we’d read about that looked interesting. Along the way I noted down a few of E’s gems. “People think the Egyptians kept iPods in the pyramids but it’s not true.” Looking at large photographs of made-up and stylized models in front of a snazzy spa: “Is it Oprah’s fault that people think they have to look like that to feel beautiful?” Earlier that day, while writing in her journal (assigned by her teacher because E’s missing a week of class) she got frustrated writing the date for some reason and declared “4 sucks!” The other numerals are ok, apparently, but 4, not good.

It's polite to say Please.

We visited several museums related to olden times in this region, saw some ancient coins, muskets, those curved knives etc., as well as a photograph of a swarm of locusts moving through Dubai in 1953 that made it clear swarms of locusts are to be avoided if possible. We ate a pleasant lunch on the river, and enjoyed E’s reaction when her grilled tiger prawns arrived in tact and I had to extract the edible parts and remove the fins, heads, eyes, antennae etc to another plate. After lunch we hit the Dubai Museum, which features an underground area of life-sized dioramas depicting traditional Emirati life as it was before the oil industry arrived. As I only carry my point and shoot camera when with the family, I regret that the few photos I attempted in that underground and very dark area didn’t make it out of there alive.

Magic carpet not included.

The textile souk was yet another area that dwarfs Doha, which has all of its departments crammed into a single Old Souk Waqif. Dubai has its specially souks spread over the city. The wife got some “genie” shoes that she’s very excited about, though she decided against the style shown here with the turned up toes.

We returned to the hotel to rest a bit before heading south to meet the son of a friend back home who has been here for a month working for an ad agency. As we drove away from the old section and toward the tallest building in the world, my perspective on Doha began to change. So far I’d seen more similarities than difference when comparing Doha with Dubai. But as we drove and drove, the first big difference I noted was the size of Dubai. It’s enormous compared to Doha. And while I’d formed the opinion years ago that Doha was trying to be just like Dubai as it works around the clock to construct its shiny buildings and condos, I had no idea how off the mark Doha is, and not just for the dramatic size difference. Doha could strive to be a miniature Dubai, but that’s it. There just isn’t enough of it to match up to how Dubai sprawls across the coast line.

George Jefferson would've loved this one.

And there is the Burj Kalifa building. This P&S snap just doesn’t convey the feeling of standing beneath it, looking up as it goes and goes and goes. It’s so tall it took my breath away from its very size. It’s surrounded by sophisticated buildings of daring architecture that are certainly reminiscent of Doha, though the latter seems to be buying even more daring styles to make up for the lack of breadth. But Doha cant come close to Dubai’s Las Vegas-level of shine. The Burj Kalifa looms over a mall made up to look like an old-style souk, sort of, but it’s really a shopping center for the wealthy with most if not all of the world’s top luxury brands.

What happens in Dubai stays in Dubai.

And in VERY Vegas style, the large pond in the middle contains the world’s largest animated water fountain system, which presents highly choreographed water shows to music every half hour. My little camera couldn’t go wide enough to get the water and the top of the building in the same frame. The streams of water happen to be shooting straight up in this frame, but most of the heads are movable and controlled by computer to creates shapes and effects in time to the music. It’s pretty cool, actually, and the effect of standing on the promenade beneath this enormous shiny sky scraper as the water dances to the music made me realize how far Doha has to go if it is earnestly trying to compete with Dubai in the opulence department.

In other departments Doha is doing better, though, or was last time I was there. For example, I’ve never felt the slightest threat while out in public in Doha, even if carrying expensive camera gear around at 2AM. But last night as I walked out take-out Thai food back to the hotel, a couple of dodgy types tried to get my attention, and I saw 5 or 6 working girls on the clock, something I’ve never noticed in Doha. Dubai still feels quite safe over all, nowhere near the experience I had in Barcelona. But I think Doha’s smaller size helps the local authorities maintain a strict No Shenanigans policy.

I’ve mentioned before that many in the MotoGP paddock dislike the Qatar round, largely for the absence of the party atmosphere present at the Eoropean rounds. If Dubai were to build a track and claim the MotoGP event, I think that attitude would change dramatically. Dubai is, in many ways, a world apart from Qatar in spite of its many similarities.

2012 is finally here!

March 27th, 2012

Ok, it has been here for a while, but for MotoGP it’s just about to start! The first race of the new season is next weekend in Qatar, and the family and I leave this Friday on what is sure to be an amazing adventure. We will be flying to Dubai and seeing the sites there for a few days before heading to Doha, where the girls will explore the local Arab culture while I stay up late at night and do my motorbike thing.

Please keep an eye out here for stories of our travels!

The Long Goodbye

March 14th, 2012


The best of Raymond Chandler’s Philip Marlowe novels is, in my opinion, his last, the title of which I’ve borrowed for this piece. In The Long Goodbye, Chandler shows us more of what makes Philip Marlowe tick than in any of the previous novels, and along the way, as observed by my old professor Thomas Steiner, the book itself seems often to be Chandler’s personal farewell to Marlowe and to the hardboiled detective novel itself.

This off-season has been a kind of Long Goodbye of my own, in this case not to a genre of fiction or to a fictional character, but to a real one. My main task over the past few months has been to go through my photos from each race weekend I’ve attended since 2008 and pull out the best images to show on Photo.GP, my online archive. Each time I open a new catalog or revisit one partially processed, I’m confronted with more images of Marco Simoncelli to edit and decide if they belong on Photo.GP or not.

Though I shoot many images each race weekend, most of them are imperfect in some way and never see the light of day. Part of the process of collecting content for Photo.GP has been to delete thousands of images which do not meet my current criteria for showing in public. But it is almost impossible for me to delete photos of Marco, no matter what their flaws might be. Only the most out of focus or otherwise flawed get deleted. There will be no more photos of Marco, after all, so each one I have, even if imperfect, is important to me.

As I go through the old photos, I continue to stumble upon sequences of images that I have literally never seen before. There simply is not enough time in a race weekend to view all of the exposure I make. So when I come back to that weekend’s images later (a week, a month, a year later sometimes) I sometimes find images that are completely new, such as the one at the top of this page. I had not seen this image until a few days ago. Finding a new image of Marco that is worth sharing is bittersweet. On one hand I’m glad to have it, and on the other hand finding such an image stirs up feelings of loss that I suspect others have been able to put away as they move past the tragedy at Sepang.

This is why I thought to write a post about the process. I get many inquires about what I do, how to get credentials, what gear to buy, and so on. But there are many aspects of what I do about which I never get questions, simply because until you find yourself in the situation, it wouldn’t occur to you that such a situation could exist. This is one of those situations, I think, where the photographer pours over old collections and finds images that have new meaning due to a changed context.

If Marco were still with us and preparing for his 2012 season, the above image might not have grabbed my attention so strongly as it did the other day. But in a world without Marco, this image now looks to me like a farewell of its own, Marco riding toward the Italian colors on the pavement at his home round at Mugello.

My first chance to photograph Marco was in Qatar in 2009, when he was recovering from a broken right hand, still an unsightly orange from having had a cast removed moments before the 250cc class was assembled for the group photograph. This was also the first time I was able to see him in person, off his bike, and free of the clutches of his on-track personality, which was so different from his gentle, friendly demeanor that was his norm if not gripping handlebars.

His hand was clearly very painful, and yet he joked with the Italian journalists, who later assembled their national 250cc riders for a group photo. How he was going to ride with a throttle hand in that condition was a mystery, given that he was so careful not to let anything so much as brush against it. But ride he did, perhaps because he was, after all, a motorcycle racer.

Not long ago I also ran across what may be the only photo I have of Marco with his father. This was at the Losail test last season, and at the time I didn’t realize the man half in shadow was Mr. Simoncelli. I was just looking through the lens at Marco and wondering if he’d do something interesting. But as his personal tragedy has revealed his own amazing character, Paolo Simoncelli has become another person of whom I am glad to have a least one image. I’m just lucky that the image is of him standing over his son, half in shadow, looking at me as I make my photograph.

I’ve been thinking a lot recently about what it is that I’m so privileged to do in MotoGP and how I can do it better: I try to create still images that bring you closer to the world of MotoGP than you can otherwise get in person, to show you things that you don’t and cannot see on TV. Still photographs are good for that, because they allow you to soak in an image and think about it before it disappears, to notice details that might otherwise escape, to allow the world being photographed to affect you as you connect with it through the process of looking, unhurried, at a still image. I hope to do a better job of this in 2012, for you who follow my work here and elsewhere. I hope that I never write another piece like this, full of melancholy and loss, but instead that I have many photos in my future that celebrate the joy of motorcycle racing rather than the sorrow.

In the mean time, my own long goodbye to Marco goes on as I continue to sort through my past collections. And good or bad, or perhaps, good and bad, that, my friends, is another part of the photographer’s work.

Rossi Birthday Desktop Wallpaper

February 16th, 2012

Today is Valentino Rossi’s birthday, so I thought I’d offer up another hi-res desktop wallpaper for you to enjoy. Click here to grab it!

MotoGP Stories at the S.F. D-Store

February 8th, 2012

©2012 Jules Cisek

The San Francisco Dainese D-Store welcomed me and Jensen Beeler last week to share some of our thoughts and experiences in MotoGP. For my part of the presentation, I showed some photographs on a projector and told the stories that went along with them.

Good friend Jules Cisek of the MotoPod podcast let me use two of his photographs from the evening. The above photo shows one example of his mobile phone style, and the enxt one is with his point and shoot camera, a bit more in the reportage mode.

©2012 Jules Cisek

You can see my laptop showing the image on the screen as I talk to the crowd, which was fantastic. We had to pull more chairs out of the back of the store, some still didn’t have enough. So thanks to everyone who came to listen to us, and especially to those who STOOD through the presentations!

A few folks asked if I could video the show, but that turned out to be a non-starter for various reasons. So instead I thought I’d write up the stories to share here for anyone who is interested. So here is the story behind…

Bradl’s Angst
Assen, 2011

In 2011 I went to Assen for the first time, and while I knew from the photos I’d seen and from other photographers’ advice that it’s a great place for pictures, I didn’t know my way around when I arrived. In that situation I sometimes rely on other shooters to tip me off about the rewarding spots. By race day I usually have all the track shots I need for the weekend, and my goal is to get shots that tell the story of the race itself. So I decided to follow David Goldman of Gold and Goose to the outside of the track at the final chicane. He has been to Assen before, many many times, so I figured if he’s going to that spot, there must be a point to doing so.

At Assen this is a risk, however, because the area from which this shot was taken is completely isolated. (This location is just in front of the final chicane that leads onto the start/finish straight. Bradl has crashed in the right hander, and the second half of the chicane is off camera to the left.) There is no way to get there other than to cross the track when the marshals allow you to do so between sessions. Once you’re there, you are stuck until that session is over. Even Bradl spent the rest of the Moto2 race with us, because he had no way to get back to the paddock. So a spot like this is a gamble because if nothing interesting happens, you’ve wasted the entire session. But enough has happened at this spot to make spending the race there a reasonable risk.

Once there, the first thing I liked was that this spot led to a new perspective on the starting grid. It’s not often you can get a low shot of the grid because you’re usually looking over a wall. But this spot is protected by some armco in front of where we stand, and then is just open to the track.

There are probably ten other photographers standing there with me, moving around for position behind enough Armco to safely protect three or four people. As the first lap approaches, as a group we move farther out from behind the Armco to get a shot that doesn’t have another photographer’s shoulder in it until the marshal gestures at us to scoot back in. It’s was very cozy when I got this one:

Looking forward instead of backward at the grid has a great view of the chicane with a nice full grand stand behind it.

Another nice view was looking from a lower perspective than you can normally get over Armco or a row of tires as the bikes entered the start finish and got on the gas. So I was able to make a small selection of different images from that one spot. Not as good as being able to wander for 40 minutes, but not too bad given the strength of the shot with the full grandstand in the background.

Now back to Bradl. At the time, he was leading the points and on his way, everyone thought, to a decisive world title as the second Moto 2 champion. But things started to go wrong and play into Marquez’ hands right here, when Bradl crashed out at the chicane. In terms of telling a story with one image, this one says a lot about the 2011 Moto 2 season, and later I was really glad I took the risk of standing in this spot for this race.

We all got photos of the crash, or I assume we did. And most of the other shooters started chimping as soon as the gravel stopped flying. But chimping in a situation like this can be a very bad idea because the emotions caused by a crash are often much more compelling when exposed in the rider’s behavior than the crash itself.

That said, I thought you might like to see the entire sequence of his crash.

Notice how Bradl has just come to a stop and is already tracking his bike, wanting to get to it and see if he can continue. In the sequence there is a small gap here as my camera catches up by writing files to the memory card. We resume a moment later when Bradl has reached the broken Kalex.

Which is actually pretty darned heavy, even when you’re in a rage about a crash. Once the marshals help him get the bike up, he examines the parts he needs to coninue and discovers that the right side of the handlbar is no longer functioning.

Disappointment, frustration, and everything else he’s feeling start to kick in for real and the emotions come to the surface in the next sequence of images.

His walk away from the bike, oblivious of what’s going on around him, tells the story of someone who can only think about what at this moment is an enormous failure. But photographically, he is lost in a confusion of marshals wearing orange very similar to his leathers. As his emotions follow their inevitable path toward a peak of anger, he emerges into the clear and Bang, I have my image:

At the time I could feel that this was it, the one I’d be posting here at MotoMatters, and that the story for the moment was over. I looked up from the camera and saw several of the other photographers still looking at the backs of their cameras to see what they’d captured of the crash itself. I don’t think I’ve shown any of the crash photos until now, but for me this is the shot that really tells the story of this crucial moment.

As it turned out months later, the story had a triumphant ending for Bradl in spite of this crash. But at the time he had no idea how the season would end, of course. As the race went on, I managed somehow to remember and follow some very good advice I recieved long ago: turn around and look behind you once in a while.

Because he was stuck there with us, Bradl had no choice but to wait out the rest of his race before crossing the track to return to the paddock. He closed his visor and sat there behind a wire fence, alone with his thoughts.

These are the two images for which I am most grateful I decided to risk being stranded that day. They would be heartbreaking if Marquez had managed to win the title. But because of how things turned out, the drama of Bradl’s angst in this moment is easier to remember.