Interviews with Valentino Rossi are always welcome, but this one is particularly appropriate. After all, today is his day (Valentine’s Day), and his 27th birthday is on Thursday. Not only that, but he graces the cover of our new issue, which also contains an excerpt from his forthcoming autobiography, What If I’d Never Tried It. This interview was conducted by Italian journalist Enrico Borghi, who worked with Rossi on said autobiography. The interview actually took place just after the final round of the 2005 MotoGP season, and it originally appeared (in Italian) in Moto Sprint, the Italian motorcycle weekly, but we think it’s still very pertinent.
By Enrico Borghi

RRX: [Last] season, you were strong in conditions—the wet—where you’re known for having troubles: China and England, for example. How was that possible?
I improved again, but that depends a lot on experience and on the feeling you have with the bike. Because riding in the rain is something that depends a lot on the setup. It becomes much more important for you to feel good on your bike. I didn’t have that feeling in 2004. The bike was too new for me; I didn’t know it well enough.

Even after a winter of testing?
Yeah. Think about it: In a year, we race about 30,000 kilometers [18,600 miles]; 29,000 [18,000] of those—maybe even more—we race in the dry. Therefore, for me the M1 was a very unfamiliar motorcycle when I arrived at the wet races. [In 2005], my feeling improved, so it must be said that my riding in the wet didn’t improve: it’s that I got better with the bike, and it did as well. That also happened to me with Honda: it took a while, but then I found the feeling in the wet with the NSR and the RCV.

Do you think you were better [in 2005] than you were in 2004?
I don’t think so. In 2004, in the preseason, I was the strongest. [Last] year, I went faster because my bike was better, so there were many more occasions in which I was able to ride at 100 percent, like I was able to do with Honda.

So 2004 was a unique season.
Well, even if a year has passed and many things have happened, thinking back, I can say that in my opinion, I was very good in 2004.

What did you like the most?
Many times, I was able to ride well even though the bike wasn’t set up perfectly. That was the masterpiece of 2004—a season that, as a sporting accomplishment, remains unique: some may have already forgotten, but in 2004, the gap between Honda and Yamaha was really quite large.

Your competitors say that you always have special tires, which they don’t have.
This story of the tires bothers me a lot. I would like to clarify, but starting from further back.

From where?
First, the problem was the bike: that is, I had the Honda and the others didn’t. Then the problem became the factory Honda, which only I had. Actually, at this point, let’s even name names: Biaggi and Gibernau. Yes, they said that I had the factory Honda, so I had an advantage; then I went to Yamaha and I won anyway! But evidently it wasn’t over, because Gibarnau, and others as well, often said that they couldn’t get the tires that I did. Well, that’s just stupid.

Okay, your point is clear.
No, let’s continue: Michelin has contracts with the teams. Based on that, they must furnish all the teams they support with the same quality of tires. And if they don’t respect it—that contract—the situation can justifiably end in troubles. Does it seem to you, then, that a company like Michelin would mess with a company like Honda? Therefore, to say that I was treated specially by Michelin is really stupid.

Okay.
As for the rest, it’s like when they say that I mess with my competitors, staying behind them until the final lap and then screwing them. It’s not true: If it happens, it’s because I decided that in those conditions, that was the only tactic to use. Can it be that they don’t understand that it’s always better to stay by yourself, and that having your competitor nearby is always dangerous? Still, some people like to say things like that.

This topic brings to mind how often you beat Gibernau. Were you expecting such a collapse?
No. He went very fast, but he collected very little, if you look at the average of his speed and his points. But that shows that with bikes, going fast isn’t enough. You must also be serene, humble, mentally strong. He’s someone who can do two incredible days of testing, an exceptional warmup, and then in the race he’ll mess up just once on the brakes and be finished.

Some say that it’s your fault, that you demolished him psychologically.
Oh, come on, be serious. If he were better than I am, he would win. Period.

Where did he mess up [last] season, in your opinion?
His biggest mistake was to want to take a step that was longer than his legs—that is, than his real potential.

How so?
At the end of 2004, he thought: now I have the factory Honda, so I’m the strongest rider in the world. And it was an error. And then, this legendary, blessed, factory Honda; this magic bike that, according to general opinion, could win without a rider. Well, this blessed Honda screwed him up! Just like it did Biaggi. And Barros too.

But why?
Gibernau, after his “promotion,” decided in his head that he had become the strongest rider in the world. But that wasn’t the case. He had to deal with that reality, and he went into crisis. Therefore, it wasn’t my fault; it was his!

In effect, there is some sense in all that.
After he battled with me, Gibernau at a certain point said: If I battled with him when I didn’t have the factory Honda, it means that now I’m the fastest. Not only that, but [in 2004] he actually said that if he’d had the factory Honda, he would’ve beat me. He didn’t think that his standard Honda (and by the way, it wasn’t standard, because he, like Biaggi, had a factory Honda in 2004) was faster than my factory Yamaha. That part, he didn’t actually say.

Before [the 2005] season, there was a feeling in the air that it would be the year that the Honda riders would beat you.
Because we weren’t ready with the bike. We never were during the tests, and not even in the first races. I went fast only once, in Malaysia, but it was an isolated incident. We weren’t consistently fast. And at Jerez, we were still having troubles.

How was the situation resolved?
The bike was very new, so we had to completely develop it. During that time, we also made some errors. At a certain point, we realized it, and we also found the biggest problems.

For example?
The electronic management of the motor was one of them, at first.

The 2005 M1, during the season, acted strangely: it often went very well, only to enter into crisis at moments. Is that the fault of MotoGP, or of the M1?
I believe the M1 was a little at fault. It’s a characteristic, remaining also in that bike; and it’s one of the major differences with respect to the Honda.

Such a big difference?
To eliminate the last 10th, the Honda also has to be set up well, obviously, but it’s a bike that more or less always goes well. Ours, on the other hand, suffers a lot if it’s not ready, if it’s not properly balanced: that is, the correct weight on the front wheel and that on the rear wheel. Also, the M1 still has a problem with delivery.

It’s still ornery?
It has a delivery that imposes one to ride in a certain way: if you’re not able to ride it in the way it imposes, it becomes a problem to which other problems are added.

The Honda is more rideable?
It’s more elastic, so it’s easier to ride. The useable range of the Yamaha is a bit reduced; at times it reminds me of the 500 two-stroke. To give you an example: maybe from 9,000 to 12,000 rpm, it won’t go, then from 12,000 to 13,500 it goes well, whereas the Honda has a broader range. In addition, with the M1, if you start to have problems as soon as you get it on a track—and if the track is unfamiliar it’s even worse—it’s very easy to get into problems that become bigger. And then you really end up in troubles. It happened to Colin, many times, because when you go the wrong way with the M1, it becomes unrideable.

Is that one of the priorities with the development of the 2006 M1?
Yes, because from one track to another, the M1 can change a lot. For example, let’s take the two new tracks [last] year—that of China and that of Turkey. We had many problems, whereas the Hondas went well from the first turn. It’s not a concidence: the Honda is much easier to set up, it adapts more quickly. That’s where you can see the difference between Honda and Yamaha.

But how do you solve the problem?
Much of it depends on getting the right grip on the front: the M1, if it’s not balanced correctly, loses much of its front grip. Therefore, it becomes difficult to manage on the brakes and on corner entry. And there’s another problem too: because it’s very sophisiticated, the M1 can get to where it confuses all of the other parameters if you don’t get it set up right; so instead of improving, it becomes even more difficult to control. It can get to a point where there’s a problem with engine braking that wasn’t even there before.

Technically, are MotoGP bikes more difficult to set up than the 500s?
More or less the same. The MotoGP is more complicated because there’s the whole electronic part to set up, but it’s also true that all those systems are a big help to the rider: with the 500 we had crashes on acceleration, which you don’t see anymore. Because the systems that assist the motor help a lot. These are bikes that weigh 145 kilos [320 pounds] and have 250 horsepower: if there weren’t those rider aids, we wouldn’t even be able to get out of the garage.

Is technology becoming the most important thing in bikes?
It must be said that we should be careful not to go too far; we shouldn’t exaggerate, like F1 has done: there, everything’s becoming easier. We’re at a good level, in my opinion, because with bikes the rider can make the difference.

Is that why you also went fast when the bike wasn’t set up well?
There’s little to be said: that’s the big difference that exists between those who are fast and those who are faster!

There’s a legendary phrase [in Italy]: ride over your problems.
When the bike has problems—and there are always problems—it’s easy to complain; you finish fifth, and at that point you can have a thousand excuses: the bike doesn’t turn, there are problems under braking, the tire slips, etc. On the other hand, it’s precisely at those moments that you need to make the difference, because when you add everything up after the 17 races, you also count the races in which you had problems but managed to patch things up.

Is that the definition of talent?
Talent certainly consists of winning the race. But if we speak about the way a championship plays out—because anyway, what counts is winning the title—the true difference is made in the ability to finish second or third on the days that are shi--… okay, let’s say the days in which you have problems. It’s there that you have to make the difference.

But the throttle also counts.
Fortunately, yes. In our sport, the right wrists also counts, and how. The point at which you shut off the throttle counts, and above all, that at which you reopen it. He who opens it first, goes faster, period. Sure, many things count, like serenity, or the team, or the setup, but in the end, that’s always the main thing.

Today, at 20 years old, the kids all want a MotoGP bike. Isn’t that strange?
Our world has totally changed. Up until a few years ago, one could decide to make a career in the 125 or the 250 class, and he would be more or less considered to be the same level as the 500 riders. There were three different classes, but all at the top; there wasn’t this desire to make it to the 500s. But now, with MotoGP, there’s one class that attracts all the money, the media, the interest. It’s the F1 of motorcycles, basically. And even the kids dream of immediately arriving there, without considering the other classes.

Is that something you share?
I think it’s a mistake. Today everything is undoubtedly in a rush. Sure, the MotoGP title is worth much more than the other titles, but I’m very happy with the way I took: going forward winning title after title, in every class. To these riders who are so young, I’d like to say that you have to understand if you can win in one class, and then try; if you realize it’s not possible, then change classes.

Honda—though very cautiously and without ever actually saying so—made it clear to you many times that you would be welcome back; Ducati, on the other hand, actually tried to get you again. You chose to stay with Yamaha. Leaving Honda aside, didn’t the Italian challenge attract you?
It would be great to race with Ducati. But the troubles that I had to go through in 2003, to plan the transfer of my team, to convince my mechanics and above all Jeremy [Burgess], and then to organize everything, was very hard. Since I wouldn’t move without my team, I didn’t have any desire to re-live that whole mess. And anyway, I’m happy at Yamaha.

And that’s probably the biggest factor, in regards to your choice.
I like the people with whom I work: from number one, Furusawa, to [Davide] Brivio, and then the guys on the team, we all have a great human rapport. In the end, that’s how I am: I won’t stay in a place if there’s not that good human rapport. I’m very happy at Yamaha: and for me, Yamaha is Italian now.

How so?
We’ve created a group in which “Italianism” prevails. The bikes are in Milan, the team is coordinated by Italians, and there are many Italians who work in it. Also, the Japanese of Yamaha have a mentality that’s pretty similar to ours. Therefore, even if we’re talking about a Japanese company, we’ve “Italianized” Yamaha. I also have to say that it’s the first time I’ve ever felt so attached to the brand for which I’m racing.

Well, it’s clear: there’s no chance of taking you away from where you are. Still, changing bikes could be a motivation to continue.
Sure, but it’s still not the time for a change.

What about this idea: seeing as how you won’t move without your team, could you—you and your team, including Brivio—ask for a factory Ducati and make your own team, with an Italian motorcycle?
Yes, that’s a great idea, but I think it would be difficult to manage a project like that. Anyway, who knows, maybe in the future I could also change bikes. Although I’d be sad for Yamaha.

Part 2 >>