Later that day, wildcard rider
Anthony, freed from the obliga-
tions to help his one-time Muzzy
Kawasaki teammate Scott
Russell in a fruitless attempt
to claim a second World title in
race one, slammed the hammer
down with such force it was felt
around the road racing world.
Gobert, that year's Australian
Superbike Champion, simply
disappeared into the distance.
They didn't see which way he
went.
That day will always remain in
my memory, as will the exhila
-
rating sight of watching Anthony
ride around the outside of Colin
Edwards, Aaron Slight and more
at what is now Miller Corner
(turn four) at Phillip Island in
1996. I've never once seen any-
one else do that, in WorldSBK
or MotoGP. I've wanted my own
green Kawasaki ZX-7R with a
big number 4 on it ever since.
There was always something
special about Anthony and Phil-
lip Island, a bit like there is with
Casey Stoner and Phillip Island.
That's because Phillip Island is
a real rider's track. I know that
line is a little clichéd, but clichés
exist for a reason. It's hard to go
quick at Phillip Island because
it is so damn fast—only the very
best can make it work at the
Island.
W
hen I was 12 years old,
I was camped in front
of my television in
my home in Roseville, Sydney.
That afternoon was the live
broadcast of the final round of
WorldSBK 1994 at Phillip Island,
and Carl Fogarty had just taken
his first WorldSBK title on the
Ducati 916.
But he was not the star of the
show. Far from it. That acco-
lade belonged to an 18-year-old
who grew up an hour and a half
south of me and who had just
shown the best superbike riders
in the world that a new genera-
tion had arrived. His name was
Anthony Gobert.
P116
CN II LOWSIDE
BY RENNIE SCAYSBROOK
