The Phantom
26th October 2009, 07:08
Rain. The ultimate equalizer. It can be a potent solvent and clear the grit from the threads faster than acetone cutting through ancient goo, or it can muddy up the situation faster than pouring cold water into a shot of Ouzo on a hot and muggy day. Except that we're in Malaysia and Ouzo is from the Greek isles. but I digress...
So here we are in Sepang, and the stage is set for a possible crowning – and I'm not talking about giving birth to an alien life form – we're talking # 9. And what a race this would turn out to be...
Leading up to the main event, Dr. GOAT had pole firmly in his hand, and barring extraterrestrial intervention or an AOG (see previous post) Rossi would only have to finish ahead of YeeHaw Haystacks to clinch his ninth MotoGP title. Pretty basic stuff, no?
Ahh, but we're in Malaysia – where the bugs are big enough to carry cell phones of their own and precipitation is measured in meters. Cue massive downpour between end of the 250 race and the main event. Factor in massive brainfart moment from the other side of the Yamaha circus tent that sees 2nd place Lunatico start from the back of the grid on his 2nd string scooter and well cheethowdy maing – it's time to go racing!
Valentifuminarossi grabbed the lead like a 12 year old street punk grabs tourist's purses in Roma, but had a big Cazzo di Puta! moment at turn one, letting everyone but the last half of the seriously twitchy field go by and setting himself up with a slightly more exciting challenge than he would have faced otherwise. In other words, he blew it. Meanwhile, the escaped Spanish lunatic known affectionately as Yorgay pulled a rabbit out of his soggy leathers and was quickly in the hunt…
Poquito Pendejo was, as has been customary of late, quick as a fart in a whirlwind and found himself at the pointy end of things, but as is also the case since oh, more than a few races ago, would be quickly spanked and put back in his pram by none other that the rather astounding bounder from down under, the Veritable Vegemite Villain laying on the heat to relegate all comers to whinging ninnies at the end, for once he hit the front, the race for the win was about as exciting as a colorectal endoscopy without a double shot of whiskey, unless you like that kind of action. In which case you're seriously in need of help that I can't provide. But I digress yet again…
As the rain continued to fall and the mist became slightly less harrowing, we found a tightly packed field chasing each other as grampa Capirossi's MotoGP-branded Depends swelled up and hindered his lateral movement on the turbo-assisted Burgman, causing him to fall off the pace into the clutches of a ravenous midpack that briefly saw Mylaundry clashing with Vale, Haystacks pulling a very nice por fuera move on Por Fuera himself, and some attrition in the form of a spectacular highside from the normally water-loving French amphibian with bunny ears on his fairings. Speaking of which, the much-ballyhooed Verminoodle rain miracle? Never happened. He was however less rubbish that a few other riders. Speaking of rubbish, the "other" Texan had a day he'd rather forget finishing way back close to the nifkin zone…
As all hell broke loose, Lunatico proved that he's not just a whack job that can twist the throttle, the kid can crash but he can also ride. He passed Rossi and battled for 5th before being relegated by the best known Italian in the known universe into the "nyah nyah" zone, as Doozy who was bent on chasing his itsy bitsy team mate binned it while solidly in third, gifting Rossi the final spot on the podium and the very cavalier opportunity to celebrate his 9th title by finishing on the box. Which very nearly didn't happen. But because he is quite arguably the best carbon-based life-form racing on the planet, he pulled off a very safe and sane 3rd, which spoke volumes about his level of maturity and skill in not trying to beat out Poquito for second…
And in the end the Mighty Marsupial Spanker finished so far ahead that he had time to whip out his trick carbon fiber and titanium didgeridoo and play a soulful tune while the rest of the field came through, strung out like a well-used string of Ben-Wa balls. Pobre Lunatico pulled off a ride that will unfortunately be relegated to the dustbin of history as Stoney boy was in a class above the rest, and of course the much-anticipated crowning of signore Rossi, complete with terrified chicken in period costume… Haystacks rode the wheels of the bucking Duckie to finish in Edwardth position and showed some serious grit, while Toegland won the lead Hoover award by going slower than anyone – including the ghastly Hun…
In the end it Rossi served up a nice hot bowl of gallina vecchia soup to the motorsport-loving world at large. This is because in Italy and other countries where chicken isn't of the boneless/skinless variety, it is well know that old hens make the best soup. This tacit acknowledgement of the trouble the young-uns are causing him leaves me wondering, with watering mouth: what is going to be on the menu for 2010, when we have the pleasure of the Nouveau Texan du jour joining the series, accompanied by the impressive vegetarian Aleix Esparragus and the very aggro and determined insanity of Yorgay Lunatico Chupahuevos to add to the mix. Not to mention Haystacks mixing it up in business class instead of coach for a change, and we definitely can't forget about Mylaundri being back on a Honda after paying off untold karmic dues during the season from hell on a hemorrhoid-inducing Hayate…
…and if I were a certain lanky Italian with a preference for yellow and a fondness for turtles, Chihuahuas and bulldogs, I'd be very, very worried, but that is then and this is now, so meanwhile pass me a beer and a scrumptious skewer of fried scorpions as we all raise a toast and say…
Congratulations Valentino! You are truly da man!
So here we are in Sepang, and the stage is set for a possible crowning – and I'm not talking about giving birth to an alien life form – we're talking # 9. And what a race this would turn out to be...
Leading up to the main event, Dr. GOAT had pole firmly in his hand, and barring extraterrestrial intervention or an AOG (see previous post) Rossi would only have to finish ahead of YeeHaw Haystacks to clinch his ninth MotoGP title. Pretty basic stuff, no?
Ahh, but we're in Malaysia – where the bugs are big enough to carry cell phones of their own and precipitation is measured in meters. Cue massive downpour between end of the 250 race and the main event. Factor in massive brainfart moment from the other side of the Yamaha circus tent that sees 2nd place Lunatico start from the back of the grid on his 2nd string scooter and well cheethowdy maing – it's time to go racing!
Valentifuminarossi grabbed the lead like a 12 year old street punk grabs tourist's purses in Roma, but had a big Cazzo di Puta! moment at turn one, letting everyone but the last half of the seriously twitchy field go by and setting himself up with a slightly more exciting challenge than he would have faced otherwise. In other words, he blew it. Meanwhile, the escaped Spanish lunatic known affectionately as Yorgay pulled a rabbit out of his soggy leathers and was quickly in the hunt…
Poquito Pendejo was, as has been customary of late, quick as a fart in a whirlwind and found himself at the pointy end of things, but as is also the case since oh, more than a few races ago, would be quickly spanked and put back in his pram by none other that the rather astounding bounder from down under, the Veritable Vegemite Villain laying on the heat to relegate all comers to whinging ninnies at the end, for once he hit the front, the race for the win was about as exciting as a colorectal endoscopy without a double shot of whiskey, unless you like that kind of action. In which case you're seriously in need of help that I can't provide. But I digress yet again…
As the rain continued to fall and the mist became slightly less harrowing, we found a tightly packed field chasing each other as grampa Capirossi's MotoGP-branded Depends swelled up and hindered his lateral movement on the turbo-assisted Burgman, causing him to fall off the pace into the clutches of a ravenous midpack that briefly saw Mylaundry clashing with Vale, Haystacks pulling a very nice por fuera move on Por Fuera himself, and some attrition in the form of a spectacular highside from the normally water-loving French amphibian with bunny ears on his fairings. Speaking of which, the much-ballyhooed Verminoodle rain miracle? Never happened. He was however less rubbish that a few other riders. Speaking of rubbish, the "other" Texan had a day he'd rather forget finishing way back close to the nifkin zone…
As all hell broke loose, Lunatico proved that he's not just a whack job that can twist the throttle, the kid can crash but he can also ride. He passed Rossi and battled for 5th before being relegated by the best known Italian in the known universe into the "nyah nyah" zone, as Doozy who was bent on chasing his itsy bitsy team mate binned it while solidly in third, gifting Rossi the final spot on the podium and the very cavalier opportunity to celebrate his 9th title by finishing on the box. Which very nearly didn't happen. But because he is quite arguably the best carbon-based life-form racing on the planet, he pulled off a very safe and sane 3rd, which spoke volumes about his level of maturity and skill in not trying to beat out Poquito for second…
And in the end the Mighty Marsupial Spanker finished so far ahead that he had time to whip out his trick carbon fiber and titanium didgeridoo and play a soulful tune while the rest of the field came through, strung out like a well-used string of Ben-Wa balls. Pobre Lunatico pulled off a ride that will unfortunately be relegated to the dustbin of history as Stoney boy was in a class above the rest, and of course the much-anticipated crowning of signore Rossi, complete with terrified chicken in period costume… Haystacks rode the wheels of the bucking Duckie to finish in Edwardth position and showed some serious grit, while Toegland won the lead Hoover award by going slower than anyone – including the ghastly Hun…
In the end it Rossi served up a nice hot bowl of gallina vecchia soup to the motorsport-loving world at large. This is because in Italy and other countries where chicken isn't of the boneless/skinless variety, it is well know that old hens make the best soup. This tacit acknowledgement of the trouble the young-uns are causing him leaves me wondering, with watering mouth: what is going to be on the menu for 2010, when we have the pleasure of the Nouveau Texan du jour joining the series, accompanied by the impressive vegetarian Aleix Esparragus and the very aggro and determined insanity of Yorgay Lunatico Chupahuevos to add to the mix. Not to mention Haystacks mixing it up in business class instead of coach for a change, and we definitely can't forget about Mylaundri being back on a Honda after paying off untold karmic dues during the season from hell on a hemorrhoid-inducing Hayate…
…and if I were a certain lanky Italian with a preference for yellow and a fondness for turtles, Chihuahuas and bulldogs, I'd be very, very worried, but that is then and this is now, so meanwhile pass me a beer and a scrumptious skewer of fried scorpions as we all raise a toast and say…
Congratulations Valentino! You are truly da man!