Over and taken at Moto-GP

To die while doing what you love the most is both a blessing and a curse.

I still can’t shake the residual shock, sadness and a sense of loss as I recall what I witnessed last Sunday at the Sepang Racing circuit in Malaysia. When you come to watch a race, the ultimate expectation is to watch the winner fly across the finish line as the checkered flag waves them to victory.

We were certainly looking forward to all that since the team we came to cheer — REPSOL-HONDA — had actually come in at first, second and third place during the earlier qualifying race. As part of the REPSOL Philippine delegation we wore the best looking and most colorful team uniform and had interacted with REPSOL officials and even had a group photo with REPSOL Spanish rider Dani Pedrosa.

Having spent a whole day at the Sepang circuit during the qualifying races, our group was totally psyched to the sounds, smell and “electricity” or tension. We also had a strategic location, CS-7 or corporate suite 7, where you could see a very sharp S loop where many riders would wheel hop or slide.  

Compared to watching “your” team grab the checkered flag, all the other stuff like stalls, bumps and careening off track are generally just adrenalin boosters that add color and noise to these modern day spectator sports. But none of us, all 61,000 plus spectators were expecting someone to die. Certainly not a 24-year-old top motorcycle race rider named Marco Simoncelli.

Least of all we did not expect to witness it happen several hundred meters in front of the corporate booth where we sat. To be honest it all happened so fast that your mind does not have the capacity to process the whole thing.

One minute everybody was jumping with shock and excitement at yet another collision in one of the most treacherous stretches of the Sepang F1 circuit. Then the sparks and momentary flame catches your attention and then you’re all freaked out realizing how in two seconds a rider is sliding across the path of oncoming riders on motorcycles that have the combined weight of about 250 to 300 kilos mostly metal and high octane.

You scream “oh my God” and then wonder if the rider is ok or is he dead. But there is no time for careful processing. There are five large monitors inside the suite and all of them are running a slow motion video tsunami with a close-up perspective of about 20 feet from the rider. That’s when you sense that the outcome would be grim or at the very least, painful.

Suddenly the race didn’t seem to matter. Suddenly all you want to hear is race organizers giving the all clear and he’s alright spiel. But that did not happen. It seemed like the longest wait that just kept getting longer. The only things you see are ambulances taking out the injured riders.

At that point the Philippine delegation of REPSOL dealers from Luzon, Visayas and Mindanao simply got up from the seats, walked over to a corner, formed a circle and started to pray. They did not stop to think about what the Indonesian Muslims in the room might say. Somehow religion and political correctness flew out the window.

We all prayed for Marco Simoncelli, for his wife or fiancée whom we saw in tears on the screen, we prayed for his father and all his loved ones, and then we prayed for the Holy Spirit to bring calm to the 61,000 plus spectators who were very agitated and unaware that #58 would never again be seen racing.

As plastic bottles and debris started to fly towards the track, we bowed and prayed even more. We all knew that someone’s life hung on the balance and things could get worse. As we closed in prayer, an Indonesian delegate came over and warmly shook hands with us. We didn’t realize that even some of the “Muslims” joined in silent prayer. No words needed to be said.

The smile, the eyes all spoke of human compassion even for a stranger we hardly knew.

As we all stood waiting, we learned many things about the MOTO-GP community. The organizers moved fast to limit or restrict access to the video clips of the accident out of respect for Simoncelli’s family and friends. In spite of having 61,000 plus spectators the organizers immediately considered cancelling the race because they had run short of medical emergency personnel because of several earlier incidents.

If they could not guarantee their ability to respond to any medical need, there would be no race. Rider safety came first!

But the most touching thing we saw and “figured out” was how race officials personally went to each driver, not team manager but driver, to inform them of the situation and that Marco Simoncelli had passed away due to head and neck injuries.

Only after all of that had been done, did the race officials finally announce the sad news that #58 Marco Simoncelli was dead.

That evening, there were no typical racing team parties. The community especially Italians set their personal agendas aside to help Simoncelli’s teammates and loved ones prepare for the last ride home.

As I reflect on “My First MOTO-GP” experience, what strikes me the most is our human capacity for compassion, our shared faith in God, and the realization that even a life lived so short can be far more meaningful because of passion, pursuit and commitment. As I once said: your life is worth living if it is worth dying for.   

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