Page 14 - Issue_67

JASON ANDERSON
450 SX / 3RD
IMAGE / LANNAN WORDS / MATTINGLY DESIGN / MOTOPLAYGROUND
>> The Tampa Bay Buccaneers have been a staple amongst the NFL circles for numerous years, being a contender for Super Bowl’s in the past. And although they’ve been riding
a wave from the seas of Atlantic and Gulf, new tide has forced them to go through some tough times, leaving the fans to be a little unsettled. They’re yearning for excitement, and the ruggedness of Supercross provides just that. A staple amongst the chaos you ask? None other than Jason Anderson, an aggressive combatant that remains calm in the clouds of chaos. From the moment he sat foot on the stadium oor, he seemed to mesh well with this environment. Blitzing these ultra-treacherous whoops, and launching into the sands of the Sahara desert, he remained calm, all the while the rear end of the machine would dance. Glancing up at the leaderboard numerous times throughout the session, he knew he was within the midst of the top competitors. Continuing his momentum throughout the duration of the session, he rolled onto the steaming blacktop, his tread etching into
the pavement. Loading the bike up onto the stand, he team huddled together under the awning, looking to establish his weak points. They created a memo, and he was sent on his way, clasping his hands together behind the gate for his heat race. With his cat-like re exes, he shot out of the hole, looking to contend for the best position. His rear tire would squirm past the mechanics area, the throttle rolling gracefully; as he would pop over the immediate double and into the left. Looking to rally forward, he could be seen eyeing the agger’s stand, lap after lap. Tomac would inch closer and closer, swapping the position back and forward, through the technical rhythm lanes. His heat sensor would get a taste
of a slight threat; nonetheless, he would remain forward, pushing until the referee could be seen waving the ag of halt. He would bring home the rst place nish. As the main event neared, he remained calm, the heart rate never really ascending; it would remain this way for quite sometime, even after the gate would fall. Jousting through the tough rhythm lane, his triple sequence would nd him hovering near the front of the eld, around sixth place. His left hand, ever so casually pulling tearoff’s over the triple following the whoops. This luscious dark soil would begin to harden as the night went on, the humidity beginning to rise. Dealing with the likes of Weston Peick, a move forward placed him in the midst of
the leaders. Justin Hill would then go down, again moving him up a spot. He would then stalk Cooper Webb, making the move on him around lap ten. The two other contenders for the championship, seemed to be a bit hot and heavy out in the front of the eld; he would reside in third for the rest of the evening, knowing the championship was still in his hands.
14 GRITMOTO • FEBRUARY 25, 2018