Valentino Rossi: two wheels god

Valentino Rossi's dominance of motorbike racing, along with his philosophy that generating excitement is more important than winning, has given his sport mainstream appeal and made him a superstar worshipped by legions of adoring fans. As Rossi attempts to win an eighth world championship, Rory Ross catches up with him in Spain

With seven world titles and 89 motorcycle grand prix wins to his name, Valentino Rossi, the Italian ace, is a superstar sportsman of our time. His name resonates way beyond the biking-mad hordes that travel the world to watch him race. From 2001 to 2005 Rossi was untouchable on two wheels, and won five consecutive world titles. Then he wobbled. In 2006 he crashed out in the last race and lost his title to Nicky Hayden from the USA. And 2007 was worse: a disastrous third place was compounded by his split with his longterm girlfriend Arianna Mateuzzi, a fall-out with his manager and, to cap it all, a £26 million settlement with the Italian tax authorities.

Now at peace with the taxman, Rossi is desperate to regain his crown. But he faces new challenges from the latest generation of young riders, led by Jorge Lorenzo, 20, and Dani Pedrosa, 22, both from Spain. Rossi, now 29, is the third oldest rider in MotoGP, which is the pinnacle of motorbike racing. The 18-race MotoGP season began in Qatar in March and will finish in Valencia in October. On June 22 the British round takes place at Donington Park near Derby.

Inaugurated in 1949, the championship is the oldest world title in motorsport. It took off in the 1970s and 80s when Australia, America and television joined in, pulling in sponsors and manufacturers. This was the era of Barry Sheene, Kenny Roberts, Freddy Spencer, Kevin Schwantz, Wayne Rainey and Mick Doohan, legends to a man. Rossi, though, is the sport's first superstar. Ask anyone in the street and they will probably recognise his name, even if they aren't sure why.

I arrived at the Jerez track in southern Spain in March for round two of the season. Thanks to strong Spanish interest in Lorenzo and Pedrosa, the Jerez GP is the biggest crowd-puller in the calendar. Some 130,000 aficionados vroom in with tents strapped to their backs, turning the fields around Jerez into a biker refugee camp. The only thing madder than a motorcycle racer is a motorcycling fan.

And Rossi's fans are the maddest of all. Every year hundreds of tifosi (Italian motorsport fans) have pictures of Rossi tattooed on their backs, while others have Rossi's number, 46, on their chests. At the Italian GP, entire hillsides are covered in yellow, Rossi's colour. In Germany the fans turn up on medical drips, in homage to the 'Doctor', as Rossi is known. One year, a chap turned up at a grand prix carrying his garage door on to which he had painted a mural of Rossi, which he wanted the great man to sign.

Radiating out from this inner core, the global fan base of MotoGP is surprisingly broad. At Jerez, the presence of Keith from the Prodigy and King Juan Carlos neatly bookended the sport's appeal. A practice session was in progress; the air crackled with the noise of small high-revving engines. To watch the riders in action close up is like seeing someone riding a 150mph rocket; cornering, the riders disappear over the sides of their bikes, one knee grazing the tarmac, leaning over at angles that seem to bend the laws of physics.

Motorcyling may be a niche market, but MotoGP has mainstream appeal. A very obviously skilful, fast-moving spectacle with crashes and overtakings galore, it is more gladiatorial than racing cars. 'You can have four bikes in a line taking a corner together,' said Lin Jarvis, MD of Yamaha Racing, one of the leading teams. 'You see more of the pilots, more of their movements and their accidents than in car racing. If you see a crash, you realise how dangerous this sport can be.'

Compared with car racing, motorcycling places a far greater emphasis upon man than machine. The bike (Rossi's is a prototype powered by an 800cc four-stroke engine) is a relatively small part of the 'package'. Jeremy Burgess, Rossi's Australian crew chief, reckons the rider contributes 80 per cent, and the bike 20 per cent. (In F1 this might be 60 per cent car, 40 per cent driver.) Biking is more a battle of man against man than manufacturer against manufacturer. Greatness in a motorcycle racer requires several qualities, prominent among which is an ability to thrive in what Burgess refers to as 'that grey area between going fast and crashing where you have a wispy airy-fairy feeling of being out of control'. To Valentino Rossi, this grey area is home.

I located the 'paddock' area, which resembled a truckers' convention or lorry park. You wouldn't believe the amount of kit needed to race a couple of motorbikes: each of the leading teams - Ducati, Honda, Suzuki, Kawasaki and Yamaha - bring several articulated lorryloads of spares, spanners, oily rags and tyres. Rossi rides for Yamaha, which vies with Honda as the leading team. We met in the Yamaha 'hospitality unit'.

With his triangular face, broad jaw line, blue oyster-like eyes and pale olive skin, Rossi looks like a cherub by Piero della Francesco. His hair has changed over the years: he has been through a white phase and then a green phase, before settling on a curly big-hair look. Today his hair is closely cropped go-faster-style. At 5ft 10in he is tall and rangy. His height is said to give him an advantage when cornering because he can hang more of himself over the side than, say, the 5ft 2in Dani Pedrosa. 'To be a great motorbike racer, the most important thing is passion for the bike,' Rossi said as we found a quiet room in a motorhome. 'You need to have this passion from the very beginning. I was lucky. My father raced bikes. He gave me the passion very early. I had my first bike when I was three or four years old.'

Beginning the two-wheeled career early seems to be a critical element. No amount of later-life practice can replicate those formative years in the saddle when the bike becomes part of your central nervous system. Rossi's official career actually began on four wheels, racing karts in Italy. His father, Graziano Rossi, was wary of bikes because, as a two-wheeled racer himself, he was prone to crashing. So he tried to put his son on four wheels. Valentino had other ideas. 'Maybe the bike is more dangerous,' Rossi shrugged, 'but the passion for the car for me is second to the bike.'

The high-water mark of Rossi's career so far was in 2004. For the previous three years Rossi, then with Honda, had taken successive world titles. People began to whisper that it was because he had the best bike. The idea that the machine matters more than the man began to irk Rossi. So he switched from Honda to Yamaha.

To flip from one team to another - especially from a winning outfit such as Honda to a team like Yamaha which hadn't won a title since 1992 - was like crossing the floor of the House. People thought Rossi mad. He merely wanted to prove, though, that no matter how good the machine is, the monkey on top is what really counts, and that a truly great monkey can always triumph. Yamaha had an agenda, too. Yamaha is a dedicated manufacturer, yet it was being trounced weekend after weekend, at circuit after circuit, by Honda. Yamaha wanted to turn it around.

Negotiations with Rossi were fraught. A leak that he wanted to move could have ruined team morale and wrecked Rossi's title chances, and Yamaha wanted to poach the world champion, not a runner-up. So meetings were cloaked in secrecy. One night Rossi met Lin Jarvis in the hospitality tent of the medical unit at the Czech GP. They had to dive beneath a table when they heard footsteps. Talks dragged on this way for 10 months until Yamaha got its man.

It was a big gamble by Rossi: in 2003 Yamaha had had only one podium finish in 18 races and was contemplating pulling out altogether. 'But it was time for a new challenge,' Rossi said. 'People were saying I won just because of Honda.' Yamaha was gambling, too. It had to meet Rossi's pay demands: more than £6 million for a two-year contract, allegedly. And it had to perform. 'If you take a multiple world champion into your fold and you don't deliver, you are exposed big time,' Jarvis said. 'It was do or die.'

Rossi managed only four testing sessions on the Yamaha before the first race of the 2004 season, at Welkom in South Africa in March. 'It was not the best bike,' Rossi said, 'but not too bad either.'

'Max Biaggi was on the Honda, Rossi on the Yamaha,' Jarvis said. 'I was standing on the pit lane watching this titanic battle between them. They were strong adversaries. Biaggi [a Yamaha rider until 2002] had always wanted to be on the Honda. The race was old generation v new, Honda v Yamaha. The riders were overtaking each other on every corner. The last two laps were electric. When Rossi edged home in front, it was awesome.

'When Vale [as he is known] got off the bike, he knelt in front of it with so much emotion. He sees the bike as more than just an assembly of metal pieces. It's like it was a girlfriend. He was so emotional about what he and his bike had done together. That is a difference between him and the other riders. They just ride their bikes, Vale has a relationship with his.'

Rossi claimed eight more wins that season, and took the title with a race to spare. 'It is Rossi's intelligence and desire to do it, his competitiveness, tolerance of everything that might not always be right… that's what makes him so good,' Jeremy Burgess said. 'We may go into a race with the best equipment, but it may not be exactly what we require. Valentino has humility and a determination to succeed.'

What qualities, I wondered, did Rossi think he has that make him stand out? 'Good concentration,' he said. 'I am able to ride the bike and think clearly about strategy and tyres. I also have positive thinking. I am very constructively critical. I am very precise and very, very organised…' A smile flashed across his face. 'Well, more organised at race weekends than in my normal life. My normal life is like being on holiday. But at races, I need 100 per cent concentration. If I lose concentration, a lot of the time I crash.'

Does he get nervous? 'Yes, from two hours before the race. But when the race starts, the fear becomes positive power. We do something dangerous and so fear is very important for understanding the limit. Sometimes it is possible to go over the limit, but just not every time. I am always thinking, better stay a little bit behind the limit.'

Rossi's idea of 'concentration' at race weekends is perhaps unconventional. 'Vale loves partying,' said Katie Baines, Yamaha's PR. 'I've known him not go to bed before 3am - and then win. He likes cars, has a motorboat in Italy near where he lives in Tavullia and has bought houses for his parents. He likes the good life.'

'I have a lot of energy after 2am,' Rossi agreed. 'I like to sleep in the morning. I have some problems at the start of the day.'

Rossi's strengths include his late braking into corners and his knack of controlling a bike during the latter stages of a race when tyre adhesion drops off. Besides the technical aspects of his style, Rossi is a great tactician. He can sit on a rider's rear wheel for lap after lap, probing for weaknesses and applying pressure, until the rider cracks, which nine times out of 10 he does. At the merest twitch, Rossi will make a clinical killer strike, hence his nickname, the Doctor. The only rider impervious to Rossi's on-track mind games is Casey Stoner, 22, the reigning world champion from Australia.

When Rossi arrived on the scene in the late 1990s Max Biaggi, from Rome, was the hero of Italy. Cold, difficult and 'serious', Biaggi was never going to get along with Rossi. Simmering away nicely, their rivalry boiled over when Biaggi was rumoured to be dating Naomi Campbell; during one post-race celebration in 1997 Rossi rode the warm-down lap with a blond blow-up doll dressed in a football jersey emblazoned with 'Claudia Schiffer' behind him. In 2001 he and Biaggi came to blows at the Spanish GP, and the next day Biaggi turned up at a press conference with a cut eye, mumbling about Catalonian mosquitoes.

Another rival, Sete Gibernau, was a temperamental Spaniard considered the best rider never to win a title. He and Rossi were friends and holidayed together at Rossi's villa in Ibiza, but the friendship soured when Rossi kept beating Gibernau. It didn't help that Rossi was wildly popular in Spain, whereas Gibernau was hated in Italy. In 2004 at Qatar, Rossi was relegated to the back of the grid for illegally brushing sand off his grid position. Fingers pointed at Gibernau and his team for blabbing to the authorities. Rossi declared that Gibernau would never win another race. He was proved right, partly because Rossi won 11 further races that year.

For Rossi, leaving his sprint for the finishing line until the very last minute comes under the heading of 'having fun'. 'Even in his years of domination, Rossi would rarely win by more than a few seconds,' Jeremy Burgess said. 'He wouldn't take the lead and ride off into the distance. He was aware of the audience back home who wanted a wheel-to-wheel battle. What Valentino likes more than anything else is a great race, which is not necessarily the same thing as winning. If he has a great battle and finishes second, he is still happy.'

Biaggi, now 36, races Superbikes (real-life motorbikes: Honda Fireblades, Yamaha R1s and Ducati 1098RSs); Gibernau, 35, has retired to Switzerland. Today's rivalry is between Jorge Lorenzo and Dani Pedrosa, who hate each other with Iberian rigour. Lorenzo is as egomaniacal and arrogant as only a 20-year-old two times world champion can be. He is sponsored by a lollipop manufacturer. Contractually obliged to suck the sweets at all times, he manages to look both arrogant and ridiculous. Pedrosa is said to suffer from charm deficiency. 'In fact,' one paddock insider said, 'he is definitely the hate figure of MotoGP.'

Rossi hasn't done badly out of motorcycling. Last year he was the 7th or 11th highest-paid sports star in the world, depending on whether you believe Sports Illustrated or Forbes, on about £15 million a year, just behind Ronaldinho, the Brazilian footballer. According to the Italian government, though, between 2000 and 2004 he earned some £47 million a year.

Rossi moved to London in 2000, until 2007. He lived on Down Street just off Piccadilly, to take advantage of non-dom status. Unusually for such a rich and celebrated sports star, Rossi shunned the limelight. Clubbing at China White, Fabric, or the Box, he would go disguised in a wig and moustache. 'Although Valentino is a global sporting superstar,' Lin Jarvis said, 'he doesn't perform the role. He remains himself. Many of his friends are the same as he had in his teens and younger. There is nothing fabricated about his persona. He has a serene self-confidence without any arrogance, and that is unique.'

Rossi loved London. 'It is incredible,' he said. 'It's possible to do something different every day. I used to go to bars, restaurants and some discos. I made a lot of Italian friends, waiters and chefs.' His favourite restaurants were Al Duca on Jermyn Street and Locanda Locatelli. 'Valentino wields more power in Locanda Locatelli than Bill Clinton and Tony Blair put together,' Giorgio Locatelli said. 'We're very proud that he agreed to sign my office window.'

In 2006 the Italian government insisted that despite living in London, Rossi had also overstayed his tax-free welcome in Italy and demanded £94 million in unpaid taxes and fines. Rossi settled for £26 million. 'I decided to pay because at the end of 2005 I wanted to come back to Italy.' He now lives in Tavullia, near Pesaro on the north-east coast, near his parents. 'I am less rich, but happy about my choice and the quality of my life.'

In March 2004, at the Australian F1 grand prix in Melbourne, Rossi met his friend Stefano Domenicali, who had recently succeeded Jean Todt as team principal at the Ferrari F1 team. Domenicali asked Rossi if he would care to drive for Ferrari, and in early 2006 Rossi tested at Valencia. 'It was fantastic,' he said, 'and a little bit scary. The car is very close to the surface and you sit like you are lying in bed. All you can see are these two big tyres.'

Rossi clocked just over half a second slower than Michael Schumacher at the same session, but faster than Mark Webber and David Coulthard at Red Bull Racing, and Jarno Trulli at Toyota F1. Schumacher declared that Rossi was perfectly capable of moving to F1 and being competitive immediately.

'I was fast,' Rossi said. 'It was a good performance. For the Italian people it was like a dream then. But I decided to stay with bikes. I might regret it, I don't know. I am not unhappy that I didn't go with Ferrari, but… I was curious. I don't know if I am too old to drive for Ferrari now.'

In Jerez, the race began, looking like a charge by Mad Max extras. By lap two, Rossi had gone from fifth on the grid to fourth, and then somehow leapt up into second place. Lorenzo, his Yamaha teammate, who started ahead of Rossi, fell back, while out in front Dani Pedrosa opened up a convincing lead. The riders then held position until the chequered flag.

Rossi finished second, a satisfactory result from fifth on the grid, but he was still stuck in his longest win-drought since 2000. (Rossi finally achieved victory in Shanghai at the beginning of this month. With four different winners from the first four rounds of the season, 2008 is shaping up into a vintage year to rival 2006, which experts agree was the most exciting season ever. At the time of writing, Pedrosa is leading the championship with 81 points and Rossi is third with 72.)

Afterwards, I met Rossi's most loyal supporter, Graziano Rossi, his father, who was sitting in the Yamaha motorhome wearing T-shirt and braces. He raced bikes from 1972 to 1982, and finished third in the 250cc championship in 1979. Valentino used to be known as 'Graziano's son', but ever since Valentino's first world title in 1997, Graziano has been known as 'Valentino's father'.

Graziano attends all the European grands prix, driving around in his old Volvo, sleeping on a mattress in the back, while Valentino sleeps in his motorhome. 'I come because I cannot stay far from him when he's racing,' Graziano said. 'The last time I discussed a race with him was when he was 11. Now, I just say well done, or bad luck.' I asked Graziano what qualities Valentino had inherited from him. 'Not only to go fast and win, but also to enjoy himself. We think it is important to joke and play. This is not work; this is play.'