Page 34 - ISSUE 40

JOEY SAVATGY
250 SX / 2ND
IMAGE /MPG WORDS / MATTINGLY DESIGN / WILSON
>> Da Vinci painted the Mona Lisa, Pablo Picasso created Guernica, it’s a pattern of legendary artists sculpting world-renowned pieces of their respective crafts. Ricky Carmichael is the aforementioned of the motocross and Supercross world. Considered the “Greatest of All Time”, and a native of Florida, it’s only right to put him as the architect that could mesh the pieces of track design together, on one of, if not the most pristine sanctuary of ground in the sport of SX. The track, although many said a tad bit narrow, had the makings of Ricky’s motocross roots, meshed with enough eye opening airtime to please even the casual fan. The infield in which the track lay on, resembled a platter of water colors; a tad bit of white, beach sand, coupled with the infamous muck of brown compost that is beneath
all of Florida’s surface; all sitting atop the legendary brand of Daytona Motor Speedway engraved
on the green, infield sod. It was all about to be terrorized with the list of 250 pilots that graced the starting line throughout the day. Cianciarulo, Hampshire, Craig, among many others, all throwing their name into the hat in chance of being ground King of Daytona. Joey Savatgy new he would be atop the list as his flight landed earlier in the week. His confidence was gleaming throughout his series of interviews throughout the days prior, and he had a bit of pep to his step when stepped on the course for track walk. Practice came, and his spraying of the sand was providing Kodak moments for any photographer within reach; the left handed quick-sand corner was one in which he drug the bar, shifting his weight to the outside footpeg, and digging into mother earth for all she had; the low teen’s of (1:13-1:14) would set a forecast for the events in were which to come. With a position to the left of the doghouse for the main event, his mechanic gave him one last pat on the back, and it was now time, for him to entrench his name across the leaderboard. The gate falls, he shifts, dirt being sprayed as pellets into the air behind him. He hit the green flag in the upper echelon of the field, all
of the heavy hitters just at his bay and surrounding him, he was second across timing and scoring, chasing his teammate Adam Cianciarulo. He had to remain composed, and adapt to this literally ever so changing track; the moment his attention span faltered, was the moment his fender would drag the ground, and he would be digging the sand out of his mouthpiece. His momentum throughout the finish line section was insurmountable, attacking with fierceness, the pop he would generate in the double triple was one of soaring propulsions; every millisecond counted and he knew it. His machine was dancing all over the layout, and he was to be found scouring the surface from right to left, ada- mantly searching for smooth territory. Although at bay to the lead, he felt as if he could launch one last charge to overthrow AC for the number one spot and take home the plate; but it was too little too late, and although a second wasn’t ideal, it could’ve been much worse.
34 GRITMOTO • MARCH 12, 2017