Backmen

Backmen

TDC

Kevin Cameron

THEY ARE CALLED A VARIETY OF THINGS—not all of them very nice—but the traditional words are “backmarker,” “lapper” or the euphemistic “a slower rider.” I call them backmen. These are riders in races who, being significantly slower than the leaders, are lapped once or more in the course of an event.

Whether and when lapping occurs depends on many things. In long races like the Daytona 200, even highly competent riders are sometimes lapped. One lap out of the 200’s 57 is a 1.75 percent speed differential. Lapping also depends upon the rules in force and the difference between rich and poor-factory riders and the slowest privateers.

In GP racing, because there were some lean years in which it was more important to fill the grid than that everyone thereon be competent, there is now the “110 Percent Rule.” This requires that the slowest competitor’s qualifying time be no more than 110 percent of the pole time. On a short track where the pole time is a 1:12, or 72 seconds, the 110 percent time would be a huge 7.2 seconds slower. A rider lapping at the 110 percent time in Superbike practice would also be a backmarker in 750 Supersport and 600 Supersport. When one pro laps another, each knows what to expect and there is no problem.

This year, there have been some sharp criticisms, from top riders, of slow qualifiers who don’t know how to behave on a racetrack. They ride erratically, darting unpredictably as others come up to lap them. Miguel Duhamel, Daytona Superbike and 600 winner, spoke out on this subject in March, saying that some riders in the 600 class lacked even basic street-riding skills. More recently, Kenny Roberts Jr. spoke out on dangerous backmen in GP racing.

Whenever top riders complain in this way, the public and official reactions are pretty much the same: “What’re you complaining aboutyou’ve got the best bikes, big pay, professional crew and free tires. Now you want to eliminate the little guy, the backbone of racing, the grassroots, the do-it-yourself improviser? Have a little humility, you guys. Everyone starts at the bottom, right? Sure, some riders are pretty slow, but they’re just part of the game.”

At first hearing, this sounds democratic, egalitarian, even politically correct (shall we call them “skill challenged?”). Gosh, folks, I guess you’re right. I’ll count my blessings and try to be more understanding of the little guy.

Now consider it from behind the 16,000-rpm tachometer. You’re entering a fast corner during qualifying. Because you are running as near the limit as you estimate is worth the risk, your ability to change line is strictly limited. You have very little “discretionary grip” left because 98 percent of your tires’ grip is being used to go around the corner.

You see a rider on the outside, with his leg out. This indicates that he is going slow, planning to pull in. When a pro does this, it means he’ll stay off the racing line. But just as you near the apex, the lapee suddenly chops across your nose, forcing you to violently lift, brake, change line. Only by a whisker does your reaction succeed in preventing a terrible impact of meat and metal. It’s over in an instant, shooting you full of adrenaline. Your next reaction is extreme anger at this person’s crazy, thoughtless move. You indicate your displeasure to the attacking backman, and ride on. Later, you know, you will be criticized for “unsportsmanlike behavior,” but you are livid because this dolt just tried to kill you and nearly succeeded. No one likes to be killed.

Now imagine you are sitting in a boardroom, delivering your pitch for a new ad campaign. Suddenly one of the well-dressed people across the table from you leaps up, pulling out a handgun, and fires two shots at you before he can be wrestled to the thick pile carpet by other pinstripers. Miraculously, both shots miss. Your head swims. Your heart feels like it’s going to break your ribs. Just one of the risks of the game? This is how it feels to be chopped off by a backman.

Are erratic backmen just another racing hazard, like oil on the track? We make every effort to clean up oil on the track, and dangerous riders could likewise be “cleaned up”-but they often are not.

Naturally, we all feel sympathy for bright-eyed youngsters who’ve spent their last nickel getting themselves and their entry-level bikes onto the starting grid. No one reaches the top if no one starts at the bottom. Fortunately, the great majority of these future pros are perfectly able to “fly the pattern”-to operate their bikes in a way that is consistent, predictable and professional. By the time a rider reaches national or international level, he should know what the racing line is, and respect those who are using it.

The problem is this: The faster you go, the less able you are to change line suddenly. The slower you go, the easier it is to make a sudden move. A slow rider can therefore make a sudden line change (“There! There’s that damn contact lens I lost in 1995, on the inside!”), possibly faster than a fast rider can evade it.

In previous eras of racing, this kind of problem was handled directly. You instilled respect by using the offender as a berm at the next opportunity. An eye for an eye-if the offender has a few bad moments or wobbles off the track and piles up, it’s only fair play and traditional education by hard knocks. Next time he’ll keep away from you. Today this is less easy to do-there are naturally rules against rough riding and paddock punch-ups, and there is more public compassion for underdogs than for overdogs.

Pro events are not a place for beginners. They are for those riders who have already learned a great deal by rising through the class-advancement system of regional amateur racing. Professional riders have a right to expect skill and judgment from those moving up into their events. □