Cycle News

VOL. 54 ISSUE 23 JUNE 13, 2017 P131 comfortable points lead going into the final round at Castle Rock. It was 35 years ago that I was here, winding down the season and witnessed first hand the famous finale to the title chase. There were some infamously rumored words credited to Ricky Johnson that morning in 1982, which have gone down in MX folklore. To set the stage, some back- story is necessary. Tom Carson, who today runs the Alpinestars Mobile Medical Unit, was a fellow support rider on Team Maico. Tom had a very attractive girlfriend who traveled the circuit with him. The attractive female presence in the Maico pit always managed to attract a number of male visitors, prompting them to create vague excuses to drop by. One of these was Ricky Johnson. On that fateful morning in 1982, before practice, Johnson dropped by the Maico pit. I was sitting in the van with Carson's girlfriend when Johnson arrived. People around Ricky were advis- ing him that if he just cruised around conservatively to a safe finish for the day he would be crowned 250cc National Cham- pion. It is well rumored that Johnson responded to that advice with some bravado. Well, I'm here to substantiate that, because I heard him utter the famed words. Milling about in the quiet, pre- race morning atmosphere, with the requisite excitement and an- ticipation hanging in the air, Tom Carson's girlfriend echoed what Johnson's friends and team were advising, that if he played it cool and scored points rather than go for the win, he would be cham- pion. Ricky looked at the ground, and slightly shaking his head with youthful defiance, came back with, "I'm going out in a blaze of glory." I remember the van went quiet, the few people in atten- dance realizing what that mindset might result in. A short while later the gate dropped on the first 250 moto. Johnson went to the task of battling Donnie Hansen and Broc Glover. Ricky's speed was incredible. Unfortunately, the dry, hard-packed Colorado track, with its gnarly, bike-breaking downhill, took its toll on the Yamaha and Ricky collapsed his front wheel. I was in the mechanic's area signal- ing my rider when Ricky pulled in, the distinctive metallic clang and rattle of broken spokes accompa- nying the shocked and disbeliev- ing faces of Team Yamaha. Ricky DNF the moto. Hansen went on to win, followed by Glover, putting Donnie in charge of points going into the second moto. This scenario set up more pressure for Johnson, who still had a mathematical chance to clinch the title, provided he finished ahead of Hansen. Forty- five minutes later Glover took the second moto win, with Hansen second, ahead of a hard-charging Johnson. There was an atmo- sphere of mixed emotions as the moto wound down, everyone in attendance realizing they were witnessing one of those race days that would go down in history as heartbreak for one rider, and unexpected elation for another. In the end, Hansen took the championship with a total of 300 points, three precious points ahead of Johnson at 297, and Glover ending up with 294. We were based directly across from Team Honda in the pits, and immediately after the moto I vividly recall Donnie taking off his jersey, swigging water and wiping his face when Honda Team manager Dave Arnold came running over to tell him he'd won the title. The look on Hansen's face was so strange; he wasn't quite compre- hending. My rider, Scott Johnson, said, "It hasn't hit him yet." When it did hit, Donnie started smiling. I didn't see Ricky again that day, but I have to wonder what the teenager was thinking. I've often wondered, given Johnson's sub- sequent domination of motocross and supercross over the ensuing years, if perhaps the calamitous events of that day in 1982—in- fluenced certainly by youthful vigor—was actually a more power- ful lesson that helped motivate Ricky to his future prominence as opposed to if he had won the 250 crown in his rookie year. As with these things, all we can do is pon- der, what might have been. CN

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