MOTOR RACING | RICK BROADBENT From the pot-bellied to the pit lane, Valentino Rossi is a unique hero for all of sport Rick Broadbent pays tribute to the MotoGP rider, ready to race again this weekend aged 41 Rossi, here meeting Brad Pitt in 2015, has long been a superstar of his sport MIKE MARSLAND/WIREIMAGE By Rick Broadbent Friday July 17 2020, 12.00pm, The Times Share Save The most charismatic man in sport is now 41. He was once portrayed as Elvis on the cover of Rolling Stone. Brad Pitt opined: “I want to be like him.” Tom Cruise tried to get in his motorhome. He is in action on Sunday and there is no finer terrapin-smuggler or Robin Hood impersonator or seven-times world champion who wears fake fur to signify the demise of his lucky rabbit anywhere in sport. Valentino Rossi may even be the greatest active star in all sport. You can judge in the Spanish Grand Prix as MotoGP returns. Others are more famous (well, not in Italy or Spain) but I have never met anyone that comes close to merging sporting genius with such a maverick lust for life. If you think sport is a bit anodyne . . . read on. The first thing to know about Rossi is he is brilliant at what he does. He may be the best ever in his sport, although Mike Hailwood, Kenny Roberts and Marc Márquez, the present world champion, have claims. He has won nine world titles in all classes and 89 grands prix in the top one. Enough of stats. I realised Rossi was different when I ended up in a full-blown 90-minute, 11-a-side football match before the Italian Grand Prix one night in Tuscany. It kicked off at close to midnight. Rossi scored twice, one from a deft free kick. The following day was first practice. Then there was the time he was having a bad run and he pitched up in those leathers with garish furry numbers. “I have driven over my lucky rabbit,” he explained. His victory lap stunts were dreamt up in late-night bars and a fertile imagination. When his nemesis, Max Biaggi, was rumoured to be dating Naomi Campbell, Rossi celebrated with a pillion ride for a blow-up doll with the words ‘Claudia Schiffer’ written on the back. Irked by a time penalty he dismounted on another lap of honour and was booked by friends dressed as travel police. Rossi and his Claudia Schiffer doll REUTERS Another time, when disgruntled with his Honda bosses, he attached a huge ball and chain to his foot and had those friends, now in convict guise, sever the links. The friends, by the way, were called the Tribe of the Chihuahua for no reason at all. He turned up on the podium in beach wear, the Tribe having already ruffled feathers in the paddock by installing a trackside swimming pool, and, simply because Donington Park is 29 miles from Sherwood Forest, Robin Hood. He was kind to terrapins, a gift from fans at one race, and got a special passport for them after ignoring the manager’s suggestion to flush them down the toilet and after his friend, Robbie, bottled an ill-fated attempt to smuggle them back to Milan. The rivalries were wide-screen dramas. At the 2001 Catalan Grand Prix Biaggi turned up to the post-race press conference with his face bleeding. “A mosquito bite,” he explained. In fact there had been a punch-up behind the podium. That one would fester although Rossi was always evasive about whether he had helped overturn Biaggi’s rental car and fill it with trash before spinning it on its roof. Another story: on the eve of the first Chinese Grand Prix 600 Yamaha dealers gather at a conference on a Saturday night. The top brass of Yamaha have been assured Rossi will turn up to wave and he has even been booked into a hotel next door so this will be easy. At the last minute Yamaha China is informed Rossi will not be coming. He does not want to be out late on the eve of the race. The Yamaha chiefs go out for a meal to pick over their disappointment. They sit in a semi-circle when in walks Rossi and his entourage. Caught red-handed, his face drops for a moment but then the chiefs start laughing at the audacity. Rossi puts his head on the counter and goes to sleep while his friends eat and drink. Then they wake him and they go clubbing until the wee small hours. Of course the next day Rossi wins the Chinese Grand Prix. He was hard, brutal even, with rivals, but his races were stunning in their dexterity and derring-do. He won on different bikes to debunk the machinery argument. He told me he would be gone by 27 but here he is. The church loved him too. They still ring the bells in Tavullia, his home town, when he wins. Many of the houses there are painted yellow in homage to his old livery. Each year thousands would walk the ten miles to the San Marino Grand Prix as a leathery pilgrimage. A shop even sells sand commemorating a fabled dust-up at Laguna Seca when he ran Casey Stoner into the dirt at The Corkscrew, a blind corner in which riders drop five storeys in barely 300 feet. A chip off the old block, his father, Graziano, was also a racer. Even when his son was the highest-paid sports star in Italy he chose to drive to races in his old banger and sleep in the back. His career was derailed by a horrendous crash and the pony-tail had grown to his waist by the time he had it cut off to mark his son’s first world title. All great biking stories involve rise and falls. Brave as well as brilliant, Rossi was back on the bike in 21 days after a double leg break in 2017, a walking stick propping him up on the grid. Rossi photographed back in 1997 RINO PETROSINO/MONDADORI He also dealt with mind-numbing tragedy. I had seen Rossi messing around in the paddock with Marco Simoncelli, a man whose outlandish bouffant had forced him to order an oversized helmet. Simoncelli was seen as Rossi’s successor, a mix of Italian hedonism and talent. In the 2011 Malaysian Grand Prix Simoncelli fell. Rossi and another rider could not avoid hitting him. Simoncelli died. Blameless, perhaps, but you can only imagine the feelings involved in that tragedy. So celebrate Valentino Rossi. He is not quite what he was but he is still a one-off. For those who think the modern sports star is a corporate puppet, I will leave you with this line from an interview in which Rossi explained why he liked living in London. “The other evening, from my flat window, I saw in the opposite building a 60-year-old man, completely naked and fat as a pig, pot-belly, miming a tennis match. On his own. The English are raving mad which is why I feel so comfortable here.” Rossi makes you remember that sport is not about tyres or hamstrings or qualifying for this or that. It is not even about petty tribalism. It’s about suspending disbelief and being wowed. A hero for the pot-bellied and the pit-lane, I wish him well.
He walked into a restaurant we were in. Really nice bloke. My mate went in for selfie’s. I’d feel a twat personally but each to their own
For me he is just a Superstar, sucking the marrow out of life. It's not just his talent - which is obvious - it's his whole attitude to the living of his life, with his friends and family. TOP BLOKE in my opinion.
What's NOT to like about this man,with 24 years in the game entertaining us with those crazy moves & putting bums on seats,one of the best sportsman on two wheels.IMO
No question he’s been brilliant for Moto GP and bike racing full stop. I used to love watching his last lap tussles when he was good. Which he invariably won! Just don’t go faster than him and beat him. He’ll turn the whole planet against you
he took the sport to a new audience with his charismatic personality. Years of boring corporate droids since.Sheene. I know he had preferential trye choices for years, but he was brilliant. Everyone since are poor imitations.
Not a fan of his but he will be sorely missed ....for me the best memory was when he got the 10 second penalty and still won by sufficient amount god knows where but was mesmerising but also expected such was his greatness.....no doubting an amazing racer and racing personality...
......& don't forget this one in the last round in 2015 at Valencia,which in my opinion was his championship.
