Last week marked the 37th anniversary of the death of my all-time Australian road racing hero, the late Kenny Blake. Kenny died on the Isle of Man mountain course on the 9th of June 1981, a date that is forever imprinted onto my psyche. It was, as it always is, such a senseless waste of a wonderful life, the end of things for a man who was beloved and admired by all who knew him; a man who was on the verge of international success. But the slightest of mistakes on a wet piece of tarmac brought that all to a tragic end. So you will forgive me, I hope, if my comments this week are heavily coloured by that awful memory.
Another Isle of Man fortnight has come to a conclusion and again the mountain course has exacted a fearful price from those who have dared to challenge it. 2 competitors have died during the fortnight when the usually quiet country road of the island are closed and made available for racing. I’m not sure of the number of road riders who passed away trying to emulate their racing heroes during those times when the roads are open for public use but it will probably be sad as it usually is.
And, as usual, the introspection and re-examination of the races will continue for some time, well, at least until the initial shock of loved ones and friends lost forever begins to wear off.
In the aftermath, then, of another equally tragic fortnight, the questions are again being asked and answers are being sought as to how much longer can we afford to have a carnival of road racing that regularly involves the deaths of those who participate. This year, of course, is especially poignant for us with the death of Australian sidecar rider Dwight Beare. When any of our heroes die it always hits us hard, but it hits harder when it hits close to home.
As usual, the regularly used platitudes are brought forth and you know them well, “He died doing what he enjoyed most.” What a fatuous and stupid comment this is. I bet he didn’t. I bet there were many things that made up that rider’s life that were at least equally enjoyable as racing. I bet that the time that he spent racing would have paled into insignificance compared to the times that he spent wrapped in the arms of his loved ones. And, even if he DID die doing what he enjoyed most, he still died.
“Man always wants to challenge himself” is another one. Yes, he does and, for some, balancing on the edge of disaster is a thrill that cannot be equalled, but every challenge must have a degree of safety otherwise it is simply throwing oneself off a cliff.
“Nobody made him do it, it was his choice,” is another platitude and again, while on the surface it appears to be true, it hides an awkward reality which nobody, out of feelings for those who are left behind, will admit and that is that it simply isn’t true. Somebody DID make him do it, HE did.
I have been a passionate follower of road racing for over 40 years and I have seen the best and the worst of what it can offer but I have never been able to reconcile this one single issue. Motorcycling and motorcycle racing is, by its nature, an essentially hedonistic pursuit. Nobody holds a gun to our head and MAKES us ride, but we do it. Nobody MAKES racers race, but they do it. Why? Because it satisfies some undefined, inner selfish urge that means nothing to anyone else except us or the person who is indulging in it.
Why do people challenge the track and themselves at the Island? The reasons are as myriad as the number of riders who do it, but nearly all of them are buried deep in the rider’s psyche and often cannot be even articulated let alone understood. I have had the privilege of speaking to an interviewing many racers who compete at the island every year, and I mean the best of them, McGuiness, Cummins, Farquhar and others. Without exception they say that the personal satisfaction of having completed a near-perfect lap of the mountain course (and that term means different things to different riders, of course) is palpable and inexplicable at the same time.
In the end, however, it is something that is completely personal and here is where I start to have a problem. Should your desire to achieve a deep personal satisfaction involve the process of doing something so dangerous that there is a good chance that it may result in your death? Of course this is a broader issue that embraces any sort of voluntary risk-taking activity, but, at their heart, all these activities are essentially selfish and bring with them the possibility that a person’s participation in them could have tragic consequences.
The poet, John Donne, first penned the famous quote, “No man is an island” (how ironic in light of the subject matter here)? The fact is that nothing any of us do is done without having consequences for others. All the platitudes and well wishes being tendered to the bereaved are of no comfort whatsoever when the wives, partners and children of the deceased go home to an empty house with the realisation that they will never see their loved one again. No amount of talk will bring that friend back. The REAL price that is paid is not the price paid by the rider but the price that which will be forever paid by the ones that are left behind.
“Oh, but more people die every year climbing mountains or scuba diving,” say some of the defenders of the Isle of Man. The dishonesty in this misuse of statistics is truly staggering. Of course more people die climbing mountains or diving in the sea. More people die because more people DO it. THOUSANDS of people climb mountains every year; MILLIONS of people scuba dive. The proportion of people who die at the Isle of Man compared to the number who compete in just a fortnight is still going to be greater. So, please don’t trivialise the loss of precious lives by pointing out what is happening elsewhere. It’s dishonest and insensitive.
Where the “look over there” argument fails is that scuba diving or mountain climbing or most of these other activities are essentially safe unless something goes wrong (and, yes, it sometimes does). Flinging yourself around a track at warp speed where there is no run-off and where the slightest error is punishable by serious injury or worse is not an essentially safe activity.
“Well, what about you riding on the road, you can get killed there too, it happens all the time?” Yes, it does and it is equally regrettable that some pay for their passion in this way, but my comment above about the relative safety of this activity still applies. Add to this the numbers involved and the time frame in which the statistics are gathered and the Island still fares badly by comparison. The same scenario applies to normal circuit racing as well where the risks are considerably less than riding on the road but where worst case outcome occasionally appears.
EVERY death is a tragedy no matter in what circumstances it occurs. Every racing death is equally tragic given that it need not have happened. And every death on the Island is even more tragic because the risk factor is astronomically higher. At the Manx event a couple of years ago the affable and incredibly interesting David Taylor paid for his passion with his life. When interviewing him in his role as a racer and as an official ambassador for the Manx TT, David was at pains to point out to me that the risks of the TT course were manageable with suitable rider training. Riders needed to learn the course and not expect to win straight away. Sadly, it seems, no amount of training and education is enough.
Will the Isle of Man carnival be bigger and bolder next year? Of course it will. Will record numbers of riders try to get a place on the crowded grids? Yes, they will. Will we be reading statements of regret and commiseration from the ACU during the race fortnight? Probably, yes. Will these issues be raised again this time next year? Will wives, partners and children go home from the Island alone? Sadly the answer to this is also probably yes.
I have the utmost admiration for the skill and dedication of every rider who sets out from the town square and heads up the mountain. I just wish that they would all return from there.
