Sort of like in 1975, Roberts wasn't in the mood for any grab ass, wheelies or waving to the crowd. He stood on it and accelerated hard into turn one, the TZ sounding healthy, if not a little soft. No matter, Roberts wailed the bike into turn one, put it into the soft outer section of the track and gave it the flick.
Simultaneously, thousands of learned eyes bulged and hearts momentarily stopped for a nanosecond—oh sh*t, he's done it now, that bike is going to flick him and hurt him. But, of course, Roberts jacked his body to one side, put his foot down and gassed it, the bike went beautifully sideways and he was in control of it all.
"That alone was worth the flight over the Atlantic," said one European scribe.
Starting cold, Roberts saw no reason to not to go faster. He shrieked down the straights and flicked it even harder and more beautifully than the first time.
Afterwards, he stopped and the crowd screamed, gave him multiple standing ovations. It was an amazing thing, a heart-warming sight, to see people not born when Roberts won the Indy Mile in 1975, Harley guys, and ten year old kids, all in the stands, all on their feet and all screaming in appreciation of King Kenny Roberts.
Valentino was there, of course, and he had been mulling all night whether he too would do a lap on the TZ. While the public word was he was just going to ride a 450 and wave to the crowd, just before Roberts went out, Rossi had decided, screw it, I'll ride it. What the hell, I have 50 points.
Afterwards, Rossi was one of the first people to meet Roberts after he stopped. He congratulated him and stood there like the rest of us, amused and not quite believing this just happened.
As the moment throttled back to normalcy, someone in Rossi's entourage said, 'Okay, Vale (pronounced "Valley"), time to get in the leathers'. Rossi was supposed to ride something, supposedly it's in his contract.
"No," he said. "This night is for Kenny Roberts. I'm not riding."
ENOUGH TALK, YOU BETTER WATCH...
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