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LUKE RENZLAND
250 SX / 7TH
IMAGE / REEVES WORDS / MATTINGLY DESIGN / MOTOPLAYGROUND
>> While many think of St. Louis as a great, star-struck sports town, which it rightfully is, they often overlook its status in the world of brewery. One the world’s largest brewing companies, Anheuser- Busch, has home base in St.Louis, looking to captivate both locals and tourists who travel to the Midwestern staple. All the water, barley, and yeast you could ask for, all bottled into one humongous warehouse, providing beers such as the infamous Budweiser. They provide all of the surrounding stadiums with plenty of beverage to go around, leaving the fans worked up, and ready for an action- packed ride. Luke Renzland seemed to grab the attention of a few in particular in the early-going, after a little pre-race tailgate had some of the loudest in attendance, screaming with all of their might. Following his autograph signing, he made sure to put on a worthwhile performance, and have the fans feeling that the money was well spent. He would sky over the far triple, looking over into the first few rows, and subtly telling the fans to stand with a motion of his hand. They would fol- low suit, cheering him on as if it were a victory lap. He would be all smiles once crossing the finish, knowing that he had the majority on his side, once racing would start. The gate would fall, and he would dig into mother earth as 250f demolished this start straight. Hanging through the first turn, it was all he could do to letting the beast inside unleash, but he had a bit of traffic surrounding him. He would make some stealth like moves in the left before the tunnel jump, rolling on the throttle as he would pop through the air, and down the backside. The right elbow would be tucked, pushing forward, battling with Sean Cantrell like a twisted tandem. He would gaze to his left, locating the scoreboard in the middle of the track, configuring who was where in his head. Knowing what he had to do to put his bike in the main event, he would follow orders from the mechanic. “Breathe, focus” were two words that were in constant repetition throughout the continuation of the moto. Bringing
it home to cap of the race, he would place sixth. The main event was here, and early on, he was doing all he could to differentiate himself. Launching the double, triple line before the finish, it was beginning to get combed out; but he wouldn’t bat an eye, clicking up, kissing the front fender, and setting the chassis down the backside. The whoops were beginning to deteriorate, with a sequence of hopping and wheel taps accompanying one another. Around the halfway point, he would hover near ninth. It would only get tougher from here, as the group split off into packs, and he was sucked into riding the pace of those around him. Pushing as hard as he could, his fingers would begin to tense up, a bit of lactic acid filling the forearms. But, as he always would do, he would scrap and claw through the remaining laps. Neck and neck with Brandon Hartranft, he would hold down the seventh place ride for the final portion of the event. Who knows, he could enjoy that Budweiser with the fans after all.
46 GRITMOTO • MARCH 18, 2018