Indian Grand Prix | Moto GP Racing in India

By The Karr Report.

The marshals were marinated in Enthusiasm, the humidity was ridiculous, and the racing was… incredible.

Let’s return to India next season, please.

Moto3:

There seemed to be a general consensus within the Moto3 pack that Track Limits were things that applied to other people.

The humid, sticky heat, however, applied to everyone. Some handled it better than others.

Kelso became the first casualty on Lap Two, getting launched into space just as Öncü was navigating through the Long Lap Penalty loop. It was a brilliant cinematic masterpiece. Thankfully, Öncü wasn’t given another penalty for being within shot of the incident.

After starting in a career-best second on the grid, Bertelle’s podium hopes went sliding away from him along with his bike at the start of Lap Four. He stomped past the gravel-bogged machine without acknowledging its existence even in the slightest.

Turn Twelve claimed Salvador during the fifth lap; one lap later Azman was out on his azz again at Turn Four.

During Lap Ten, Turn Four continued its killing streak by sweeping Furusato out onto Track Limits.

Ogden almost became a rider-sandwich on the eleventh lap when he abruptly got bucked off by his motorcycle right in front of Suzuki. Suzuki’s Honda first tried to squash Scott against his own bike, before setting off at a canter towards certain freedom.

Even the Leopard had had enough of Suzuki’s shitty luck in India.

It was last spotted in nearby Dankaur, stalking an unsuspecting Vespa.

Back at the front, Masiá had managed to shake off the buzzing Sasaki, and by the time there were three laps left, he’d stretched his advantage over everyone else to more than three seconds. This continued to grow until, by the start of the Last Lap, Jaume was a proper five seconds beyond getting caught.

Five seconds behind him, a Last Lap stonker was unfolding between Sasaki, Veijer, and Toba. Everyone was sure Veijer would be playing wingman for his title-contending teammate by keeping Toba at bay; boy, were you all wrong!

The trio exchanged positions faster than a drug consignment exchanged hands; when Veijer again managed to slip in between Toba and Sasaki. Folks wanted to relax, thinking he was going to just chill there and let his teammate have second.

Nope.

Veijer quickly attacked, and held second for a few moments. A total melee commenced wherein all three were surely going to crash in a most spectacular way.

This did not happen. What did happen was Sasaki taking back the second place, and Veijer misjudging the space he had to turn in. This resulted in the tiniest of touches between Veijer’s front and Sasaki’s rear tyres, which in turn sent Collin skittling off the track.

The contact, though not sending Ayumu off to join his teammate, did have the result of him losing out on second place. Some really stern talks will be held in that garage post-race…

Masia had long since taken the win, and a cool shower, too, by the time Toba emerged to snatch second, and Sasaki fumed his way to third.

Moto2:

‘You want action? We give you action!’ – Moto2 troops.

Darryn Binder rode one of his cleanest, best races in a long time, and took seventh. Which is even more impressive considering he’d just returned from a back injury, onto a brand new track.

It took the Middleweights a few seconds to turn the first Indian Moto2 race into total chaos. As the pack swept through Turn One, Alcoba engaged his homing missile, locking on to Ramírez. Poor Ramírez got swept off his wheels by a too-horisontal Alcoba, before the two of them went on a mission to see just how high you could stack Moto2 bikes on-the-go. From what was seen, it maxed out at four-ish. In their sweep were caught Hada, Chantra, and Vietti; the latter taking a tad long to get back on his feet.

One of those bikes got snatched by the rear wheel, and spun like a wooden top on steroids. Most impressive. Even more impressive is the utter lack of severe injuries.

Initially, Yellow Flags came out. But nearing the end of the first lap these quickly turned red – the marshals and downed riders were struggling a bit with their game of motorcycle Jenga.

Everyone popped back to their boxes, the Turn One-ers feverishly trying to get back so their teams could magic their bikes back into racing condition. One of the last to depart was Chantra, whipping a strangely deformed Honda onto the track. Its fairings hanging like bat wings from its flanks, but it obliged.

After a not-too-long delay a quick restart commenced with the new race distance cut to twelve laps.

They basically got their own Sprint Race.

Most of the fallers rejoined. Chantra tried, but after cruising around Lap One he decided to pop back and retire for good form the race.

After the restart, it took a whole four corners for more drama to unfold. This time it was a Canet-on-Lowes whackadoodle, though some believe it was more Lowes-on-Canet.

In the scuffle, Ogura was taken out as well.

During the fifth lap López spotted a gap when Dixon ran wide, took it, and clattered into the side of Dixon when the latter cut back a little harder than he probably should’ve.

The Brit rolled around on the tarmac for a while, much like a footballer after someone had stepped on his toe. So dramatic.

Jake remounted, only to crash again two laps onward. This time, all on his own.

His bike went skipping away across the pebbles, while Dixon’s Dick-son got grated all the way through the gravel-trap.

Would it be accurate to say his stones got stoned to death?

Alcoba was served with a Long Lapper for his Turn One sins. This was ignored, however, and thus he earned a Double. While serving the second helping, Alcoba coasted off from the Long Lap Loop and into the gravel, at which point he decided he’d had just about enough for this weekend, abandoning his bike in order to go find the nearest Indian food stall that also served Feni.

On the final lap, going into the final turn, Nozane dropped his bike and wiped out Skinner. As revenge, Skinner’s bike faceplanted Nozane on its way off-track.

Determined to finish the race, Skinner opted to push his bike the last few metres to the finish line.

Much like Masiá in Moto3, Acosta checked out at the front of the field, basically forgotten for most of the race as there was more than enough action to focus on behind him. Taking a comfortable victory – on one wheel – Acosta had time for a curry before the rest caught up.

We were again treated to a final-lap showdown for second; this time, it was Arbolino Versus Roberts in an outright shootout. More overtakes happened between the two of them during that one lap than in the entire race, across the entire field. More than once they surely HAD to crash, but they didn’t.

It was Arbolino who ultimately won the duel, taking second place and leaving Roberts in third.

MotoGP:

‘You call that action? Hah! WE shall show you true action!’ – MotoGP maniacs.

Not even the greatest scriptwriters in Bollywood could’ve come up with a more dramatic, twisted plot for the inaugural Indian MotoGP race. I’m willing to bet money on it.

Through the very first turn of the race, so much paint was swapped that it was deemed a good thing none of the riders had severe pigmentumphobia. Aleix nearly donated one of his winglets to Brad in the fairing-rubbing orgy, too.

Will-I-Stay-or-Will-I-Go Márquez took a rather unusual line at Turn One at the start of Lap Six, involving him going fully horizontal and way out to the end of the tarmac. Never once did his behind leave the seat, raising suspicions of him being strapped to it.

He got the bike back up and continued his race, like he’d meant to do the inverted turning maneuver.

Three fellows had to retire to their pit boxes throughout the race, first of which was Augusto on Lap Ten with suspected rear ride height malfunction. Another was DiGi on the twentieth lap, but we weren’t told just why.

Aleix’s gears stopped gearing on Lap Eleven, forcing him to cruise around the circuit in what was presumably second, all the way to his box. There he dismounted, stomping into the garage like a beaten bull.

One of the biggest plot twists of the race occurred during the fourteenth lap: having just snatched second from Martín, Bagnaia launched his Ducati into a destruction-hungry sideways tornado. Fans were stunned, his team flabbergasted.

Pecco simply clapped to himself, praising his ability to both win and lose so spectacularly.

Later, he was spotted doing the lonely Walk of Shame down Pitlane. A walk that deserved to be made into a music video for some epic, sad rock ballad about lost love and wasted opportunities.

Martín suffered a little wardrobe malfunction, which he at first didn’t seem to notice. He only realised that his leathers had unzipped themselves when he noted how unusually breezy he felt around the midsection.

Honouring the fact that he was the poster boy for the Saturday Summary, Bezzecchi fought his way to the lead, and checked out on a flight to Buggered Right Offistan. By the time half race distance came around, Bez was over four seconds ahead. But as he cruised into the final lap, he did so over eight seconds clear of the next fellow on track.

Not only did he have time for a cold shower after crossing the finish line, but he could enjoy two ice creams before Martín wobbled across the line to take second. Quartararo took third, after one hectic last lap encounter between him and Jorge.

Frankly, Jorge Martín was spent. Kaput. DONE. One wonders if he even knew what was going on on that final lap. He parked his bike in front of his pit box, dropping to his knees and begging for water, all the water. His crew went about absolutely drenching him in cold water while he downed some at a rate that’d win him beer chugging awards, even in South Africa.

Eventually one of his team members half-carried the spent rider down to Parc Fermé, where he managed to stay on his feet for about a minute, and have a quick chat with Quartararo, before sitting down against the fence.

When Mister Doctor Man came rushing into the lot, everyone realised that his stopping at the garage and reopening his leathers wasn’t some sneaky chest protector trick, but rather a genuine case of severe heat exhaustion. The young Spaniard had fainted where he sat in Parc Fermé.

The doctor faffed over him for a good few minutes, rubbing Martín’s tongue with his finger and force-feeding him strangely-coloured liquids until he could get up on his feet again. Once on his feet, Jorge suddenly lost seventy percent of his clothes. Situation aside, some lady-fans caught the fainting bug, too.

Emergency defused, everyone could finally celebrate their race.

Brad actually had an incredible race and once again took fourth, after a hefty sparring session with Mir on the last lap.

Bezzecchi clambered onto some scaffolding to the delight of the crowd, and Quartararo delighted them further by hurtling his gloves up into the masses.

All in all, it was a spectacular trio of races that happened for the first time on Indian soil.

And tar. And gravel.

Until the next race in Japan:

Karr

PS: For those who were wondering what Feni is: It is an Indian clear liquor with a high-ish (40% or more) alcohol content, made of, for example, cashew-apple-juice. Basically, cashew mampoer. Sounds delicious. It is also often made with coconuts, which sounds equally good.