Found: In my hand
This from Dr Costa mobile Clinca:
At the dusk of this pain filled Sunday, my dream would desperately wish that a small fragment of a star named Marco Simoncelli were not blown away. Cruel fate, why do you threaten my dream? What can I hope for? And hope to do what, beyond the tears for that lost childhood and beyond the naked anguish of pain, increasingly unbearable because it makes me feel helpless and guilty for not having held you tight in my arms?
When fate knocks at our door we experience the terrible feeling of being powerless. The young champion named Marco walked away into the sunset of Malaysia and his departure was the noise of life, the joyful noise that Marco has always given us. The same noise of the interview that Mark released me at Mugello in July while being massaged by his trusted physiotherapist. That day, at the beginning of the interview, I would have wanted to speak to an ancient knight, but he told me: "Diobò! (Good God!) I'm just a simple guy with lots of hair, liked by many, loved by his girlfriend and his parents."
The massage continues, his skin is caressed by expert hands that glide over his athletic body and I move away a little with respect for the ritual. With emotion I will write the conclusion of the interview that I carried out that day. It is for the book I'm writing and with all my love I will dedicate to him. Here are the final questions.
Dottor Costa: "What do you think of pain?"
Marco: "I don’t like it. But I put up with it. There’s no use in complaining. I bear it in silence. Diobò! That’s the best way."
Dottor Costa: "What do you think of the soul’s pain?"
Marco: "It's ugly, so ugly, but after the discomfort that comes from this bad thing, I feel a renewed energy. I feel better, and I ride my bike better!"
Dottor Costa: "And when you race, against who are you racing?"
Marco: "I would say to beat others. No nonsense, I don’t want to be left behind! But if I think about it, I could tell you that I race because when I do I’m overcome by a unique sensation! I don’t know how to explain it, but it is something special, hidden deep down inside of me."
Dottor Costa: "Why do you have long hair?"
Marco: "I like it, it doesn’t make me feel normal, it makes me feel special, it makes me feel myself, unique."
Dottor Costa: "Do you feel lonely?"
Marco: "No! No! There's my family, my girlfriend, my friends who enjoy my successes, there is the mobile clinic that helps me in difficult moments. I can feel there is so much love around me, so much goodness that warms me."
The massage is finished, the interview is over. His father Paul and the pretty girlfriend have listened in very pleased. With a caress, I thank one of my favorite drivers and tell him about a thought of mine...:
"When you fell during this championship and you fell many times, you reaped a lot of criticism, evil judgments, injustice, envy. Many even presumed to teach you to ride a bike. Some even strongly advised me to tell you to be more calm, more cautious! Do you remember instead what I told you? I told you that most people, barking against humanity, have forgotten, perhaps because they are unable to remember, when THEY started to walk. One falls, and then one gets up, and falls again, and gets up again and often falls down once more. All this is accompanied by a mother's patient smile that comforts us and encourages us to persevere, with no hint of reproach. Then we all learned to walk quickly, but only few of us have managed to take the path that leads to the heights of life, because the climb was too difficult and tiring. But why blame them? Are they not already severely punished by their failure?
But you, dear Marco, not only will you climb the steps to the summit of life, but also those of the podium, where the prize will not be a cup, but the acknowledgement of your strength, of having been able to look death in the face and defeated it!" Now my prophecy has come true. You have climbed onto the podium of Czechoslovakia and Australia. Today in Malaysia you have looked into the face of Death. And while it was wrapping its black cloak around you, you told him: "Diobò, but can’t you see that I’m not human? because I am my dreams and my talent is the bread of the gods that you will never be able to touch? Do not you realize that you only steal my body? On the contrary, my smile, my goodness, my good nature will remain forever in the hearts of everyone. Forever. Can you not see that in the checkmate I have dealt you, my tears are about to be turned into rapture?
It will take some time, but I strongly believe in this miracle, especially for my family and my girlfriend. This is my Victory in the Malaysian Grand Prix, even if it lasted two laps. "
In sport, whoever chases his dreams, while simultaneously pursuing his tragedy, leaves the world of mankind to enter the world of the divine. Cruel, violent, but divine nevertheless! And whoever dies while pursuing a dream, smiles at death and that smile erases all trace of violence. A mountaineer smiles at the dizziness of height, a deep sea diver smiles at the restlessness of the abyss, a biker smiles at the intoxication of speed.
Sport is a stage where the body and mind are celebrating their power at that time of life called youth. In Motorcycling, the action of the pilot is enhanced by the risk, and on the gray asphalt, life is separated from death by a very thin thread. A slight boundary drawn by danger, where life, while seeking victory, pushes itself beyond the thrill of its excess.
Today, Marco, you felt that thrill. I love you. And I will never forget you.
claudio marcello costa, mobile clinic. (deliberately written in small letters.)
Pretty soon it will be nap time... I did finally flush the radiator and put in fresh coolant and eventually I will do a very thorough cleaning. I do really love those stands, one of the best investments I have made. I'll never need to buy another set. Well... Unless I get a moto with a single sided swingarm.
Looks like they're taking down the stack at the Capitol Heating Plant. Maybe it's just me but I like seeing the old brick stacks, some people probably just think it's an eyesore.
Keith Richards & Mick Taylor of The Rolling Stones on stage, 1972 –Image by © Ethan Russell. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.