“It was definitely a great night for my team and I.”
Labeled as the “marked man” of the series, Cooper Webb only made the target on his back bigger and bigger, once all was said and done for the round of Houston. Vying for an overall championship in this year’s 450 division, Webb is doing whatever necessary, in order to make his way to the front of the line. And that’s no stretch of exaggeration; with his antics during the series of main events for this late March weekend, being true testament to that. The first moto saw him in immediate contention for the lead, battling with the likes of Ken Roczen. However, Marvin Musquin was in his proximal radius within the blink of an eye, forcing Webb’s focus on his teammate, rather than that of the leader. Putting it all on the line, Webb was beginning to run it on the number twenty-five, who was just ahead. Showing him a wheel on multiple occasions, his frustrations would climax on the anthill before the sand rollers; where Webb would actually shove Musquin off track! Showing absolutely no mercy to his brother in arms, Webb’s continue his flight to the fun, securing second once all was said and done. For moto number two, while starting a few gates over from his teammate of Musquin, Webb would blister off the line and into an early lead. Seeing that it was Dean Wilson behind him, rather than that of the number twenty-five, Webb was a bit reassured, knowing that the points lead would only grow. Carrying on with steady momentum throughout the series of laps, he would remain confident in his pursuit of the checkered. Taking aim at the finish line, the number two would set sail over the triple, knowing he’d secured a likely chance at an overall. For moto number three meanwhile, it was Musquin gaining access to the upper hand off the start, with Webb in third. Doing a series of mathematic equations in his head, he knew he could afford to lose a spot or two to the number twenty-five, in regards to an overall standing. He would hold second for just a few laps, after moving around that of Zach Osborne. But it was the number three of Eli Tomac looking to dampen the parade of the young Webb; where he would make his way around in the latter stages. Cooper, now third realized that the gap he had once garnered early on in the night show, would now pay off. Crossing the line, he would claim the title as Triple Crown champion, stretching his lead in the series standing even further.
“The Triple Crown is always super aggressive racing.”
As the series continues to roll on, the animosity and tension within the Factory KTM rig is most certainly reaching a boiling point. Things have been heating up for multiple weeks now, and the round of Houston displayed just how far each rider of the KTM tandem (Marvin Musquin and Cooper Webb) were willing to go, in order to achieve victory. From the moment the gate would fall for this round in southern Texas, the two championship contenders were neck and neck. Cooper Webb would stalk Marvin Musquin early, and the number two KTM rider would do everything in his power to get around. It seemed like in every corner, all the while chasing Ken Roczen and Dean Wilson out front, the two were running it in hot on one another. Finally, Webb had reached his anger threshold, and pushed Marvin off the track, while making their way into the sand section! Marvin, now in a flurry of losing positions, had to regain vital time in the overall standings. The mistakes would then continue to add up, with Marvin Musquin going over a berm, and crashing onto the concrete floor! Noticeably rattled, Musquin would do what was necessary to obtain as many points as possible, finishing fifth. For the second round of racing, he would work his way into the runner-up position, eyeing Webb who was out front. Running the far edge of the whoops, Musquin would make a few mistakes throughout the mogul section; but luckily, stay upright throughout this portion of track. However, he would make one last ditch effort to overtake Webb in the sand section. It wouldn’t prevail, and he would subsequently hit the stadium floor yet again. Dean Wilson would then work his way around, and push the number twenty-five to third, where he would reside. Musquin would then be on a mission to the front, where he would get out to an early lead, never looking back. He realized that he couldn’t control what would happen behind him, so he decided to focus on the task at hand, which was obtaining the checkered flag. The track would begin to break down, yet Musquin’s lap-times would never deviate. He was solid in his conquering of the course, using adequate throttle and braking techniques when necessary. Taking the win, he would be placed in second overall once all points were finalized, and the championship standing would be rekindled.
“It feels great; as this has been a very long journey for me to get to this point.”
Coming into the year of 2019, many in the field knew Dean Wilson had the talent capable of making waves within the 450 division. However, to display the magnitude and sheer size of the aforementioned ripples is another thing; as Wilson engulfed the field with hurricane-like current, impacting every other competitor behind the gate. A mainstay at the front of the field at many rounds thus far, Wilson eyed the Triple Crown race with adornment; knowing that his consistency and ability to sprint, would last him throughout the course of the evening. He didn’t mind multiple gate drops, as he felt his starting technique was up to par as well. The first moto would have him battling for the second place ride for quite sometime, just off the lead of Ken Roczen out front. He would try to mimic the Honda to the best of his ability, watching the rear tread ever so steadily. All the while, feeling pressure from that of Cooper Webb behind. Doing his best to hold off the number two, he would give in; yet still remain composed, once in the third place groove. Residing here once all would conclude, it would be a matter of carrying out this performance, as the night would continue on. He would be up front yet again for the second round of racing, where a runner-up position of the start had him just behind Webb. Overtaken by Cole Seely, Marvin Musquin would then follow suit; pushing Wilson to fourth. Yet his fighting spirit wouldn’t be deterred, and he would work his way back around the Honda, and take over second yet again, after a series of mistakes from Marvin Musquin. Taking the checkered flag in second place, Wilson would be on cloud nine while on the podium. For the final round of racing, Dean’s sixth place start would put him just behind Joey Savatgy. He would make moves accordingly, working his way up through the pack as the race would begin to play itself out. With Marvin Musquin out front, he could decipher just how fast the pack of KTM’s were going in front of him; and would do his best to latch on. Fifth place at the stripe, he would be tallied with one of his best overall performances of his career. The third overall was an accumulation of persistency, hard-work, and dedication to bettering his craft, year after year.
The 2019 season has been one of the closest in recent memory. Riders of all brands, ages, and experience levels, have contested for wins on multiple occasions. It’s made for a quandary of situational racing, with teammates and foes alike, battling for the highly touted prize of gold. Eli Tomac understands that although he and many others are competing amongst the same brand and practice tracks, that at the end of the day, they are individualized as racers. Each spot earned, is additional income, job security, and overall gaining of prestige; and he vows every weekend to let nothing come in the way of that. Houston was much of the same song and dance, where he was one of the first riders out onto the track for practice. Noticing his cunning ability to conquer specific transitions, his chassis would land in the optimal position of transitional segmentation. Chipping away at the roster ahead, each lap he would begin to escalate up the staircase of competitors, upon the Monster Energy leaderboard. Volleying back and forth between a few positions, he would land in a sound overall spot, looking forward to an actual gate-drop, there in just a few hours. His outfit would have him looking ever so lavish, with a set-up as crisp as they come. Hoping to stay relatively clean throughout this mix of clay and sand, his machine would be swaying from side to side around the perimeter of the course. Riding a few unorthodox lines, he knew he would have to differentiate himself in respective portions of this course. Hurling himself over conjoining tabletops, he would proceed into the following left, doubling and tripling the assortment of singles, prior to the over-under obstacle. Keeping his name just in the sixth place slot, it would be enough to push him into the second round of racing. He would shift out of the gate with a heap of confidence, knowing that time was of the essence. Keeping his 450 screaming far and wide, the decibels of his exhaust would ricochet off the stadium walls. His engine would bark superbly loud, all the while chasing down riders such as Cooper Webb and Marvin Musquin. He would linger near the fourth place ride, and the laps would continue to accumulate; yet Tomac, unlike his normal aggressive tenure, would continue to fall backwards. Missing rhythm sections and displaying lackluster charging speed, were matters substantial enough, to let riders like Zach Osborne around. Taking seventh, he and team urgently hoped to rebound for the final go-around.
With the series finale coming closer and closer with each passing week, everyone in the field understands just how valuable each position is, in regards to individual main event occurrences. You must desire each specific spot on the leaderboard with the utmost drive, otherwise you could be sitting on the outside looking in, once all was said and done. Cole Seely, a true warrior in spirit, would take an oath prior to the round of Houston, reciting that he would give one hundred percent effort, regardless of any circumstance he was placed in. That would include practice, where the bike setup wasn’t too his particular liking at first. Although looking to adjust and configure the perfect setting aboard the motorcycle, he would power through, doing his best aboard the machine he currently resided on. Sharpening his sword of defense each and every lap, the sheering of metal would be a sound all too familiar within the shell of his helmet; hoisting his shield within the process. Barreling around this configuration of circuitry lap after lap, he would begin to adapt, as any true champion would. Rolling through the pit area following the conclusion of qualification, he couldn’t wait to get back and assess what he had just presented to team owners, and crewmembers alike. The memo of the night show would then be addressed, and he would hope to starch the field from the get-go. Getting off to a start around the top five, he would look to crawl up the leaderboard as the laps would pass. Shredding a few of these ninety-degree bowl turns with loam at the top, he would leave pellets of soil all over the floor of Houston’s stadium, as the bike tire would hurl rocks of all shapes and sizes off the rear tread. Keeping his momentum plugging along, he would take the fourth place position, respectively. The field of twenty-two would then joust as they all attempted to weasel into the first corner, where his elbows would be high and wide. In a defense mechanism of sorts, you could see him subtly glancing over his shoulder, over the “SX” triple. He wanted to make sure just who was behind him, understanding that his riding style would be a reflector of the field around him. Keeping quarters close, you could see him attempting to deadbolt the door shut, in a series of left-handers around the course. Tossing away the lock and key, the fourth place position would be where he would reside, just ahead of Justin Bogle. The last main event would be a circumstance of unfortunate matters, where a seventh place start would be his highest running position of the race. Hanging steadily there, he would make a mistake midway through the moto, dropping him outside the top ten. The eleventh overall in the final outing, would still secure a solid fifth overall.
Known for their NBA team of the Houston Rockets, many in the city of the deep south, associate their being with the fiery red colors of the team. Symbolizing their strength to persevere and soar in times of adversity, the Rockets have continued to climb throughout recent memory; becoming a staple in their conference, and a front-runner to win the league’s championship. Zach Osborne aspired to do the same, hopping aboard his own rocket-ship of a 450, and sending the two-hundred some-odd pound machine into the stratosphere. Manning the steel-horse like the true adrenaline jockey that he was. Letting the rear wheel absolutely rip into the soil below him, the front wheel would glide just a few inches above this dozer-ridden composition, while he ruffled through the gearbox in a crescendo of shifting antics. Feathering the clutch when necessary, he had to forego the days of two-strike riding, that his amateur career would provide; and understand this revolutionary piece of work beneath him, could be ridden with poise and a sense of tranquility. The bike and he would become a unit as the laps would accumulate, and nothing on the track would be of deterrent to him. Landing the finish line on the final lap, he was satisfied with his efforts of what had just occurred. The green flag would wave for the first main event, and he would be within the midst of battle from the get go. Holding on to the tenth position with a death-defying grip, he wasn’t letting the number of current possession go without a fight. A quarrel for the ages would then be placed between the two riders, where they were jockeying for inside position with an aggressive manner. He could see the front spokes of the opposition gleaming off of the stadium lighting, catching a mere hint of flash in his peripheral vision. Stone-faced, he would remain focused forward, eyeing the finish line at the end; he would conclude the race in tenth. Numerous heavy hitters would be up front for the second main event, and he knew he would have to attach to them to the best of his ability. Otherwise, he could be found within a lull in no man’s land, scrounging for bits of motivation on every circuit. Taking aim at the sensor of timing and scoring every lap, he would do his best to further his time from one circuit to the next. It would pay off, as the sixth place position, once passing Eli Tomac, would be his final standing in the pecking order. For moto number three, one of his best performances of the year would ensue. Really beginning to understand the track and digest how it was breaking down, Osborne would be in a heated battle with Dean Wilson for fourth. Knowing that the number fifteen was all too familiar with his antics, Osborne kept steady toward the checkered flag, never acknowledging Wilson in the slightest. Taking a fourth place in this final section of racing, he would finish sixth overall.
With Hurricane Harvey absolutely destroying the metropolis of Houston and it’s surrounding area, years have past, and the town is still attempting to recover. With lack of funding, infrastructure that needs to be rebuilt, and morale that needs re-boosting, many areas within this walk of life need a spark of positive aura in a sense. And for this particular March weekend, the Monster Energy Supercross tour would provide it. A rider many in the crowd were zeroing in on, was that of Justin Bogle, an athlete filled to the brim with fearlessness, embodying all that an aspiring competitor should grasp toward. During track walk, you could tell his demeanor echoed the sense of comfort; where he felt nothing on this course could provide a riddle that couldn’t be solved. Firing up the engine for practice, he would mimic a start immediately; jumping on the binders of the front and rear rotor immediately, as he ducked into turn one. Taking a few laps to scan this course from one side to the next, he would scan the blueprint of NRG stadium with stealth like vision, a heat sensor searching for any obscene movement. Pushing his limits, he would keep the bike upright through the proceeding sequences; excited for what was to come. Barreling down this straight-away funnel, all twenty-two seemed to be muffled together like popcorn along the first few rhythm lanes. He made sure to stay in his particular lane, never wanting to cross-jump and end in a disastrous sequence. Blitzing the whoops to the best of his ability, you could see his left boot up-shift prior to his embarking of the section; forecasting the pure speed he was about to carry. Holding off Blake Baggett with all of his might, he would keep the exhaust of the 450 scorching with a feverish temperature. He would finish eighth. The second main event would then be upon television sets and outlets of social media across the world, and he would linger near the front of the field in the early going. Vaulting around this rugged track, he would have to finagle his machine into specific grooves. Balance beams of slithering equation, once he was in a respected rut, he knew he would have to stay there. Otherwise a crossing of the chassis could result in him plowing into the soil below. Both the track and competition began to deteriorate; and he knew he would have to capitalize timer would inch closer to zero; holding off the likes of Eli Tomac and Zach Osborne in a hard fought battle, he would place fifth. The third moto was a chance Bogle to keep the momentum going, and after finding a rather strong line through the sand rollers, his starting position would be accompanied with a plethora of strong laps. Finding a rut that nearly dug through the face’s entirety, he would push the KTM to the brink of explosion. Hanging on for dear life, he would hold off Ken Roczen for seventh, placing him in seventh overall as well.
Although penciled in near the front of the field in weeks past, Blake Baggett wanted to portray his best efforts for this round of Houston. He knew that team owners and fans alike, believed racers were only as good as their last result; and wanted to engrain a performance like no other, into their lobes of memorization for eternity. Revving his bike on the line for practice, you could see him grabbing the rear fender, twisting his torso from side to side. Coupled with a good stretching of the neck and shoulders, he would click the motorcycle into gear, and take off down the straightaway, really to let loose. Riding the steel-horse beneath him into the sunset, he would man the bucking bronco beneath him, as it slapped every which way. In true Texan spirit, he was going to man the beast below with all of his might, hoping to nail a perfect score of “10” when the final bell would sound (in this case, a checkered flag.) It would then be waved, and as a result, he would walk away rather pleased with his performance. The night show would now be upon him, and he understood that he would have to seize the moment; relinquishing all doubt within his mind, he would launch his machine into the first rhythm section. Tripling as many combinations as possible, there wasn’t any obstacle on this track that would come close to spooking him. He had to make sure constant wrath was displayed on the field around, and the soil beneath, at all times. It was a display of poetry, the way he would spring the rear shock to life, barreling through all times of trajectory motions. It would pay off, as the race would come to a close, and he would remain ninth. He would take aim toward the top as he eyeballed the second main, overreaching at times throughout the first few laps. Avoiding a front-end washout, or a dabbing of the inside leg, he was all about minimizing his mistakes, in order to establish a gap that couldn’t be penetrated. Each lap, would be another mile marker checked off; signing off on this main event as a cluster of laps. Timing and scoring would have him listed in eighth place, just ahead of Tyler Bowers within the registry of names. The final main event, would have him nestled around the tenth place spot in the early going. Dodging flying grains of sand from the likes of Justin Hill for quite some time, Baggett would work his way forward, as the laps would continue to add up. Pushing the KTM to the best of his ability, he would be placed into the sixth postion for the final lap, taking eighth overall.
Home to the Houston Texans, NRG Stadium has seen it’s fair share of action through a multitude of sports over the years. With the likes of Deshaun Watson airing it out while the NFL season in play, the fans of Houston are no stranger to high-flying antics. Enter Joey Savatgy and the Monster Energy Supercross series, a staple for bar-banging, aggressive action, who’s sure to take the platform of this respective professional limelight, to the fullest degree. He looked to take the field by storm as he hastened around this concrete floor, launching everything in sight within the first few laps. Disregarding any sense of caution or fear, he would throw it all to the wind as he kept the throttle pinned to the highest degree. The airbox would be taking in as much oxygen as possible, doing it’s best to support the life of the motor, along with the coolant of the respective radiator. Everything began to scorch, fluids throughout the bike boiling and bubbling over. Yet he would remain steadfast in his pursuit to the front. It would transcend into matters for the first main event, where the field would dive into the opening few corners, many scampering to the haybales on the inside. Towels would begin to wave, fans would accompany the display with screaming. He could feel the energy of the event begin to rise, as the switch of aggressiveness would begin to engage. The roar of the attendee’s would turn to a deafening awe, paralyzing many of the field behind him. But he would remain resilient, calm and collected as the intensity of the race began to grow. There was no stopping his procession to the front. He was simply on a one-track mind, in regards to finishing seventh. The crowd would only amplify for the main event, with the fire of the starting gate casting a flame that couldn’t be extinguished. Letting it all hangout in the opening laps, he knew he would have to get away from Justin Bogle. The contrasting of styles made for a spectacular show, with the two seemingly parallel around this Houston circuit. Neck and neck at the halfway point, he would begin to inch away with the race coming to a close. The referee would match the color of the flag, and he would eye them as a symbolic representation of his efforts. Eleventh place would be his taking for the moto. Solidifying a spot near the top ten for the last main event, it was all he could do to keep the Kawasaki underneath him. Battling with the likes of Blake Baggett and Justin Barcia, he would finish a solid ninth for the last outing; this would place him into ninth overall.
With the moisture-ridden lands of the Northwest in the rearview, Ken Roczen would migrate to South Texas with a burst of tailwind; hoping to be propelled into an exceptional top ten overall result. As the series has erupted into a log-jam of sorts at the front of the pack, it seems as though every week offers a shuffle-board of winning possibilities. Many riders seem to have outlying finishes at one point or another, and it’s made the era of 2019, a “season of consistency.” Feeling as though his veteran-like demeanor could cement him within the front of the field, he came into Houston looking to keep his name and brand, atop the leaderboard. With the track offering a bit of loam for the first few circuits of qualification, he was able to inscribe his tire track, through a series of specific paths throughout NRG Stadium. Beginning to topple and tackle rhythm sections around the course, his effort would be apparent in a quest for a solid finish. Carrying him into the night show, his meter of self-believe would continue to rise. With a full tank of gas, and body adequately prepared for battle, he would roll into his selected spot for racing matters. Storming off the line, he would shoot for the inside of the first corner, hoping to wedge the front end of every opponent behind him. Registering near the lead, he would look to cling to the highest position possible. Never looking behind, you could see the gap between he and Cooper Webb lengthen ever so slightly. It was a series of precise movements, which would equate to substantial gaining from the crowd behind him. With the white flag within an arm’s reach, he would scan across the track in horizontal view; he knew the lead would be his, and he would conclude the race here, taking a superb moto win. All bets were on for the second main event, where he would double-down on his luck from the prior first moto. With a stoic expression on the line, he would strap on the goggle, and looked to pull a substantial lead, just like he had displayed in the first moto; but unfortunately disaster would strike, where he would fall off the side of the motorcycle, prior to the first corner! Limping back to his machine, he would escort the Honda off the track shortly thereafter, forcing a subsequent DNF for the moto. Somehow managing to come back after the injury to his foot, he would rummage for every position possible in the last main event. Being careful not to dab the leg on this ultra hard Houston surface, Roczen was a bit cautious in his pursuit of solid standing. Sewing up the eighth place ride, he would finish tenth overall.
“I knew I didn’t have to win the last main event, in order to clinch the overall. So I rode comfortably in second.”
Although it may have been a bit far-fetched a few rounds ago, Dylan Ferrandis is now within serious proximity of capturing the point’s lead. The Yamaha rider has been as persistent as possible in his relentless pursuit of the red plate, and came into Houston hoping that a little bit of luck, would fall into his corner as well. Beginning with the first moto, Ferrandis would place himself in an advantageous position to start. Working his way up in a methodical manner, the way he was operating this 250f locomotive was truly exceptional, in regards to his nimbleness behind the bars. Cutting under when necessary, he was finding lines on the course to navigate around opponents, that no other combatant on the track could seem to locate. One position after another, he would climb his way up the leaderboard, eventually coming to the back of Adam Cianciarulo. The laps would dwindle to an end, and he would be on the brink of taking the lead. However it was a bit of too little, too late, and Ferrandis would be forced to walk away with a silver-medal in his hand. For the second round of action, the number thirty-four was just where he needed to be; on the cusp of the lead, behind the number one eleven of Chris Blose. Forcing Blose into a mistake just before the finish line, he would take the lead after narrowly missing the machine of his competitor, and look to set sail. He could feel the sense of heat RJ Hampshire was providing, yet never bowed to down to the number thirty-one who was in relentless pursuit. The checkered flag would then wave in the distance, and Ferrandis knew he would be leading the field going into the final round; the win for this second moto, would be granted to him. He would position himself strongly for the third outing as well, in the front of the field as the laps would begin. Battling with Colt Nichols early on, it was as though he knew he could allow Nichols to walk away a bit; as he was most concerned with the Kawasaki of Adam Cianciarulo. With AC continuing to be soil-ridden and falling to the ground on multiple occasions, Ferrandis understood that it was a matter of consistency with his efforts. And each lap, he would remain a staple at the front of the field, hitting his marks in superb fashion. Coming across the line in second, just behind his teammate, he knew that his mainstay at the front of the field throughout the course of the night, had carried him to a spectacular overall win.
“I’m stoked on my team’s effort this year.”
Riding the Geico Honda machine, RJ Hampshire has been a staple at the front of the pack throughout the year. Even though he wasn’t always the “tip of the sword” so to speak, the number thirty-one could always be found somewhere near the top of the leaderboard, through each passing round. And with the series winding down, he hoped to display those efforts yet again, for the round of Houston. Getting off to a strong start for moto number one, he would place himself in a solid position to generate a noteworthy overall. Knocking on the door of the leader, he could truly reach up and grab the shirttail of Adam Cianciarulo at times. Attempting to show him a wheel when need be, he was doing his best to keep the Kawasaki in front of him honest. Scorching past the mechanics area paddock, he was exceptional in the sand after getting around the Suzuki of Jimmy Decotis. Wheel-tapping and rolling through the moguls just after the wall jump, he would continue to try and topple previous laptimes; all in hopes of securing this lucrative second place finish. Residing here at the final flag, he was eager for another chance to lineup, here in the coming hours. For the second round, he quickly found himself just behind Chris Blose and Dylan Ferrandis to begin. With Blose unfortunately clipping and tuff-block and crashing before the finish line, it looked as though it would be a two horse race, between the Yamaha and Honda riders. He would stalk Ferrandis for a good portion of the race, searching diligently for a line to whirl around the Frenchman. But the number thirty-four was a bit too crafty, sustaining a pace that was hard for anyone else in the field to match. Hampshire, riding with veteran-like composure, would remain second when the click would strike zero. For moto number three, Hampshire would be around the third place spot off the start. He had both Yamaha riders just ahead, and wanted to do his best to remain close to them, as the laps would wage on. Blitzing these concrete-ridden whoops the best of his ability, he was showing absolutely no fear when behind the bars of the number thirty-one Honda. The laps would then continue to trickle on, yet his effort would never deter. With Cianciarulo now working his way into the equation and moving around RJ, Hampshire would be placed in the fourth spot. Yet, it was strong enough for a spectacular second overall.
“It was literally all about the start tonight.”
Although holding the points lead early on in the year, Nichols unfortunate woes have caused him to fall ever so slightly out of the designated titleholder reign. His speed has been imminent and apparent at every round, but it’s the tiniest of mistakes in which have led him to either crashing to the ground, or falling back in a substantial manner. So coming into the round of Houston, and being notified that it was a race of the “Triple Crown”, Nichols hoped that his ability of consistency would be displayed in front of all. For moto number one, a pileup on the start would occur, with riders being sent every which way around the initial bend. Nichols, buried, would now have a less than optimal position to start from. But his ability to remain savvy and swift, would allow him to cut through the pack like a hot butter knife; slicing the tread of other riders in the process. Blitzing the multitude of moguls to the best of his ability, he would eye riders like Jimmy Decotis as the laps would continue to dwindle down. Knowing that every point counted, he would lunge for the Suzuki rider, making the pass in the closing moments. Fifth once all was said and done, he couldn’t wait for a chance of empowerment for round number two. The gate would then fall, and array of motorcycles would be blended together for the opening few sections. Leaping two and three wide, Nichols made sure that he had to keep his machine straight while flying at this magnitude, otherwise an alarm of air traffic control would have to be sounded. Lingering near the top five, many of the series leaders were in arms reach, and he was anxious to take their position away. Yet he understood that he would have to let the race come to him, otherwise a disastrous set of sequences could ensue. Pushing forward with every passing lap, he would inherit every spot on the leaderboard that was given to him. Whether it was by making moves himself, or taking an opportunity once a rider would crash, Nichols would slowly but surely make his way into the top five. The white flag would then come out, and he would be placed in the fourth slot; holding onto this reign with dear intent, he would claim it once all would conclude. However, the third outing of racing would be his best of the night, where a holeshot would put him into an early lead. Never looking back, he knew his teammate of Dylan Ferrandis was behind; yet his focus on the final flag was imminent. Landing these jumps with absolutely ferocious intensity, he would do what was necessary to secure this moto win. Stoked on his final performance, Nichols’ name would then be nestled into third overall.
Being labeled as one of the hottest commodities in recent memory, Adam Cianciarulo is riding a wave of momentum as the 2019 season wages on. Moving into the series points lead, it’s as though Cianciarulo holds the torch in which carries the division, providing a light for the rest of the pack, and something they hope to dampen. He would come into the round of Houston looking to further the points lead, hoping that his effort of consistency would be stronger than everyone else’s, once the evening would conclude. For moto number one, he would do what was needed to get out front, absolutely railing around this speedy Houston track. Standing up until the midway point of most bowl turns, he would sit down at the last possible second, catching the rut in which he would exit the bend, flying into the next rhythm section in the process. Jumping pieces of rhythm lanes two and three at a time, he would soar over the finish line triple, and take a slight glance at the Monster Energy Leaderboard. His mechanic would then notify him of who was on the move, and it would be that of Yamaha’s Dylan Ferrandis. He’d worked his way through the pack, yet Cianciarulo had established enough of a lead, that he would be able to hold onto the lead for the conclusion of the first round. Loading the gate again, he hoped to duplicate the efforts he’d just displayed, would be reciprocated for this portion of racing. A bumping of Jacob Hayes would then ensue, and Cianciarulo would be forced into the back of the field. Yet that was only the start of his catastrophe of a race, where Cianciarulo would then crash after the over-under! With his machine getting landed on multiple times, he would then have to wheel into the mechanics area for his bike to be reconstructed. Getting back to the track as quickly as possible, he could only garner a tenth for this round of action. The third moto for the poor number ninety-two, would be a mirror image as to what had occurred for. Crashing extremely hard into the whoops in the early going, Cianciarulo was forced to gather the scattered pieces of his thoughts, and remount as quickly as possible. Somehow managing a third place by race’s end, passing multiple Geico Honda riders, Cianciarulo would placed in that of fourth overall.
With the series being broken into two particular coasts, many riders within the field are catching slack for choosing one side over the other. However, due to sponsorship obligations and team fulfillments, it’s not always that easy to decide just as to where one would be located. As a true team player, Jimmy Decotis would listen to orders, and be willing to do any task assigned to him; eyeing the 250 West Coast Championship, as a place to embark his presence. He and crew would fly into Houston, looking to hoist a highly touted top five finish, once all would conclude for the evening. Practice would be a display of exquisite marksmanship, where his mistakes were lessened to the smallest degree. Monitoring his ability to navigate the track, the team from above would all nod their heads in unison, as he vaulted around this South Texas circuit. Coming to a conclusion, all in his party felt that this night could reap a sharing of success. Moto number one had him battling for the lead early, and he was eager to make moves. Never one to follow, you could see him trying his best to gain momentum among the tops of these bowl turns; although many of the faster lines were migrating further and further to the inside, with each passing round. Dirt clods would be reflected off of his knuckles, as the roost from ahead was quite substantial. But he would keep the forearm of the throttle hand perpendicular to the ground beneath him, ringing the waffle grip for every ounce of power possible. His resurgence of energy couldn’t be halted, and he would sprint toward the finish on the last lap. Finishing sixth, he would look forward to moto number two. The sequel to the first round, each competitor would battle feverishly in the opening sequences, almost as if everyone had been shot out of a cannon. Defending his position with a wide stance, he seemed to veer to the inside and outside, when combatants from behind would attempt to make a move. Holding off the likes of Cameron Mcadoo, the crowd would continue to come to life. On their feet throughout their respective seats in the stadium, the energy in which lingered would take him to fifth. The last sector of racing was now in place, and he would do everything in his power to garner a top five overall. Jumping through the multiple tabletop section, combinations of leaping and skipping would have riders looking like a sea of popcorn. He would nail the mark of vaulting on and off, on multiple occasions. It would clear the distance needed, resulting in a sixth place finish. His name would then be etched to fifth overall.
Flying into the Houston area for this weekend’s racing event, Cameron McAdoo wanted to leave his mark on the stadium, noting a performance that would display his best ability. He’d been putting in the work, week after week, and believed that if the chips fell in his favor, he could be of high placing once all was said and done. Practicing hours upon hours of visualization, it was time for the moment to come to life, as he escorted his machine to the start straightaway for practice. Walking ever so steadily with his hands on the bars, he proceeded to stop on the far edge of the start straight; waiting for the cue from the matador in black and white. Firing his engine off the line, he would continue to upshift as long as possible, knowing that he had to set an invaluable tone early on. Blitzing the whoops in a sum-odd fourth gear setting, he would show no mercy to the ground below, as the chassis would mock a fishtailing antic underneath him. Landing off the finish line on the last go around of qualification, he would feel adequately prepared for the racing events that were going to be upon him shortly. As the field would begin to disperse around the track for lap number one, he would whip the chassis into the wind over the “SX” triple, trying to rummage from being in a disastrous first-turn mishap. Landing into the following corner with his inside leg out, he was hoping to shave every possible nano-second off of his circuit time, striving to reach his true potential on the leaderboard. With laps beginning to be tossed away, his positioning near the top ten would be solid. He would hold the mark until the final bell would be rung, taking a salvageable ninth place effort. Moto number two would find him clawing towards the leader, doing all in his power to lasso the series champion the ground. Dodging, ducking, and weaving with every power of his being, the track would begin to break down; and his true creativity would begin to rare the head. Pushing forward every lap, he wouldn’t ever worry as to what was behind him, knowing Ferrandis was out front. Keeping his poise for the moto’s entirety, he would finish sixth. It would all boil down to the last go-around, where a fourth place would be taken early on. Fighting his way forward, he would rummage through the tearoff stack, aspiring for clear vision the entire race. With the checkered flag within arm’s reach, he would obtain fifth, after getting passed by Adam Cianciarulo in the closing moments; good enough for sixth overall.
Sitting among the chair backs prior to the commencement of practice, Justin Starling took a few seconds to take a step back, relaxing in the moment. Thankful for all of the opportunity that had been given to him, he knew that this present-day situation was something that many would dream of. Earning an income, doing what he loved, and chasing a childhood dream, would be ideas of a profession many would consider lucrative. He must grasp what was at stake, and run with it. Throughout practice, he was one of the first to establish himself as an alpha in the field. Sending the chassis of the machine flying throughout certain rhythm sections, he was showing the sub-frame no mercy, as he hurled the bike into the air. It would provide him with an appropriate level of confidence, as he plucked his respective gate from the stack in moto number one. Stabbing the clutch with the index finger, he would pull the lever with a certain level of intricacy, knowing that time was of the essence at this point in the race. He looked to make his moves in a stealth like manner, being as sleek and sly as possible, as the laps would carry on. Lingering around the latter half of the top ten, he was engulfed by riders who swarmed the raceway with speed. Squaring up turns whenever possible, he would absolutely haul into bowl turns, dragging the rear brake at maximum capacity. And at the last second, dumping the clutch, scurrying away. In an efficient process, he would walk away from the first moto in twelfth. The bell would ring for round number two, and again, he would do his best to volley toward the front of the field. Letting the back wheel slide with a rolling on of the throttle, you could see the rear knobbies circulating until they found a bit of mother earth to grab onto. Letting the race play out around him, he would come away from the middle portion of racing with an eighth place finish. It would all conclude in moto number three, where every rider in attendance was scrounging for a respectable overall finish. Clinging to a strong position early on, he knew it was a matter of sink or swim, in regards to finishing in seventh overall. The time was now, and as the timer would inch closer and closer to “0”, his pace would continue to ascend. Coming across the line in eighth, he would take seventh overall for the evening.
With the Triple Crown format being introduced yet again to the round of Houston, many fans and riders alike were anxiously awaiting to see just what the event would entail. Three separate gate drops, and three opportunity to gain substantial points, could equate to spectacular racing, for all involved. Sean Cantrell marveled at the thought of another one of these events, realizing that a different format could favor his riding style. He would ride the track in practice with a boost of morale, knowing that excitement was to come once the gate would fall. For moto number one, all bets were on, and the field would absolutely dive-bomb into the opening bend. Pushing forward with all of his might, he knew he would have little time to waste, in regards to a series of short sprinting efforts. The heart-rate would begin to climb, lactic acid filling the muscle cells. Speaking a cognizant reminder to himself, each lap over the finish line, a breath would be taken. In through the diaphragm, and exhaling through the mouth. One more time around, would call for a daunting burst of all out assault. The checkered flag would wave, and he would be placed in eleventh. For the second round of action, the field would again line up and itch for a taste of that highly coveted lead. Another condensed portion of laps, would showcase a short racing ensemble. The pack would remain merged for quite sometime, amassed through a bundle of starching laptimes. With Ferrandis out front, he understood that he would have to be willing to rise to the leader’s pace. He would ante up to the best of his ability, coming around the final circuit, in an exceptional seventh place. The last round of racing would now be at his fingertips, and he knew that he would have to flip the switch, into a full-on aggressive mode. No second guessing himself, or hesitating to pull the trigger, he must be all-in, on his quest to the final stripe. Pushing forward in a violent manner, no competitor would be spared, as chopped and swatted at every rider in front of him. The ruts were beginning to thicken, and he would do his best to remain upright through these astronomical trenches. It was at that point, he would hit the lines even faster, a slot car in pure slalom mode so to speak. Keeping the throttle twisted up the finish line face, he would come away with thirteenth place, strong enough for eighth overall.
If you happened to walk through the pits throughout the course of this particular round of Houston, you would notice the substantial effort that the Monster Energy Pro Circuit Kawasaki team, would be placing aboard his motorcycle. The pinging of wrenches, thrashing of hammers, and even the sound of an occasional socket being spun, were all in familiar company within the circumference of his pit area. Watching from within close quarters, he would do his best to monitor and suggest what should be done; letting his chief mechanic configure the machine to his liking. Pleased with the numerous settings, such as the sag and stiffening of the forks, he would roll onto the raceway for practice, eager to see just how well this 250f would perform. A feeling of excitement would overtake him within seconds, as he felt he could maneuver and place this machine wherever he wanted on the raceway. Turning on a time, plowing into rollers, and scrubbing the chassis every which way, were feats that simply could be performed with ease. He would come through nodding his head to the team that stood around the circuit, reflecting his positive laptimes with a bit of reassuring body language. Keeping the momentum climbing, he would head to the line for moto number one, absolutely filled with confidence. It was an all out battle to begin this racing portion, where a cluster of savages were truly chomping at the bit in a feat of pursuance. Always looking ahead, he could never be found glancing over his shoulder; as his mindset truly was one of positive locomotion. Doing all in his power to sustain an adequate pace, he would blitz the whoop section on the far outside, making sure to stay on the balls of his feet. With laps beginning to accumulate with sound technique, he would stay forward in his push to the front; tenth place would be his. The second main event would then be underway, and he would immediately try to cut left, in order to pinch off the opposition near him. Residing around the top three, his efforts would have to be of the highest regard in order to land in the top ten. Everything within his power would be pinned to the highest regard, and he would attempt to rally as Colt Nichols crept up from behind. Never taking any slack, he would lunge toward the finish line, a white knuckled grip on the throttle. Finishing a remarkable third, he was absolutely ecstatic on the efforts he’d just displayed. Unfortunately, he would encounter a heap of trouble throughout the first turn sequence, at the beginning of the final round. Being placed numerous laps down, his finish of nineteenth would tally him for ninth overall.
Moving on from the Northwest of Seattle, the 250 West SX series, ventures this week to Houston, Texas. With a track that offers an array of obstacles and treacherous feats, the 250’s of this particular round would be forced to keep their throttle mechanism cranked to the hilt. Otherwise a loss of position or mishap could be sustained. Chris Blose knew that his focus would have to be imminent; otherwise this track beneath could reach up and create a catastrophe of sorts. He would gauge the length’s of particular sections, sizing them up for a number of rounds. But once all seemed to be well, and a clear path bestowed in front of him, he would simply go for it. No chicken run’s or hesitations, he was seat-hopping and power driving the shock and spring to maximum propulsion, making sure he cleared every leap with noticeable room to spare. Every lap, he could see his mechanic behind the paddock, attempting to rally him with a waving of the towel and a slapping of the pit board. He was doing what was necessary in order to succeed, and knew that this level of competitiveness would have to be carried throughout the evening. The first main event would then be underway, and he would quickly be in the mix for a solid finish. Looking to make moves, he knew he couldn’t sit behind any opponent for a substantial amount of time; otherwise the leaders, and premium gate position for round number two, would be gone in the blink of an eye. Bouncing through the moguls just before the finish line, he would keep his number-plate just within the rearview of former Arenacross foe, Jacob Hayes. Although never making the move, he wanted to let him know that he would capitalize on any mistake that was portrayed on the current course. Finishing eighth, he would wait patiently for the second main event. An absolutely mind blowing start would ensue, where Blose would come away with the holeshot, and early lead! Escorting the field around the racetrack, he had Dylan Ferrandis hot on his heels. Looking to hold him off, he would leave the door narrowly cracked, just before the finish line triple. With Ferrandis pushing his way by, Blose would unfortunately be pushed off the track, and into a tuff-block! Crashing into the ground below, he would be forced to the back of the field, subsequently taking a nineteenth. For the last round of racing, his gate position on the far edge of the field, would force him to weasel his way through on the opening circuits. Making his way through the pack, a strong showing of seventh once all would conclude, would place him in tenth overall.