#ks34

The Relationship Between Tire Characteristics and Riding Form

Rainey's riding style is characterized by a digitally precise and sharp weight transfer. His riding revolves around the body's center of gravity and the machine's center of gravity. Rather than simply maneuvering the motorcycle to go fast, he generates speed by exhibiting more animalistic agility. Therefore, he prioritizes maneuverability over stability in his bike setup. The foundation of this incredible agility is the balance between his legs and hips, as shown in the illustration.

The most noteworthy aspect of Rainey's riding style is his use of the inner footpeg. He places his toes on the footpeg and controls his hips freely. He exquisitely controls the weight on the seat with exceptional responsiveness. This enables his incredible slide control. Furthermore, while his hips move significantly, his shoulders remain firmly centered on the steering wheel, allowing for precise machine operation. When animals move quickly, their heads don't move. In any sport, head movement hinders accuracy. Rainey's form teaches us this importance.

As Matsuya Land points out, there are slight differences in Rainey's forward-leaning form in the 1990s. The increased forward lean is clearly evident from the position of his head compared to '89. This is likely due to the change in tires in '90, from Dunlop tires with superior sliding characteristics to Michelin tires with superior grip, rather than a change in the machine itself.

The 1990 Michelin tires were A-grade tires, boasting exceptionally high grip. This allowed for stronger acceleration. The increased forward lean was likely a way to balance this acceleration. Furthermore, the lower stance likely balanced the centrifugal force generated by the lower stance, resulting in less slippage and higher turning ability during cornering. The high grip of the Michelin tires that year is clearly evident in the complete absence of the tremendous power slides Rainey displayed up until '89.

Rainey's most refined riding was seen in '90 and '91. While other riders might notice this, even though his form appears similar to '88, you can feel a greater sense of relaxation in his posture in '90 and '91. Furthermore, even when he switched from Michelin in 1990 to Dunlop in 1991, his way of releasing power remained unchanged, so it can be said that Rainey's riding form was perfected around this time.

The difference in 1991, when he switched back to Dunlop, is that his forward lean is less pronounced than in 1990, suggesting that the difference in tire characteristics had a significant impact. These characteristics weren't prioritized for high grip, but rather for slide balance. By slightly raising his upper body and shifting more weight onto the seat, he increased the load on the rear tire. This increased tire grip, making it easier to feel the slide. Because of the excellent balance of the slide characteristics, he actively used these characteristics to control the slide and generate speed. Dunlop definitely suited Rainey's riding style.

In 1992 and 1993, the effects of his knee injury were significant. Because he couldn't bend his right knee, he moved his inner foot placement from his toes to his arch. This restricted his hip control. That was the battle Rainey fought in 1992. Ultimately, he managed to compensate by lowering his right footpeg and won the championship. And the same thing happened in Catalonia in 1993. However, at Donington, he was able to operate the rear brake with his heel, which allowed him to place his toes on the footpegs. Consequently, his riding form has become closer to that of before 1991. This definitely means that as he recovers from his injury, his riding is also returning to its peak. More importantly, Rainey's challenge this year is the characteristics of the YZR, which are geared towards stability. This is a countermeasure against Schwantz's braking, and is aimed at improving braking characteristics. Whether this can be refined to bring out Rainey's maneuverability will greatly affect the potential of the V4.

Differences from the fastest years, '88 and '89

Kevin Schwantz's Chapter

There's no doubt that Kevin Schwantz is the fastest rider. However, it took him many years to finally win the coveted title. This month, we compare his riding style from when he prioritized speed over strength to this year, when he finally achieved the championship.

From top left, clockwise:

This is the famous scene from the '91 German GP where Schwantz overtook Rainey on the final lap to snatch the victory. Schwantz’s signature style is perfectly captured in this braking maneuver. Especially here, the bike was jackknifing and swaying violently from side to side. Amazing!!

A scene from the Corkscrew corner at Laguna Seca Raceway during the '87 AMA Superbike race. The same spot as Rainey in last month's issue [a/n: likely referring to the first illustration in the post] Compared to Rainey, his form was surprisingly orthodox.

1988 - First year of full participation in the GP. His form was distinctive, but it didn't have the same sharpness as it does now. Also, because his hips were pulled back far enough, his upper body was positioned low.

This is [a scene of him] coming out of a corner. He snaps the bike upright with a sudden 'lurching' motion, throwing his upper body far over toward the outside. This is likely to put his full body weight onto the outside footpeg.

The advantage of long limbs

Kevin Schwantz was at his fastest in 1988 and 1989. Of course, he still has incredible speed today, but these two years were truly special.

Suzuki made a full comeback to GP in 1988. They debuted the V4 machine, which had become mainstream in the World GP, replacing the previous square-four, and resumed full-scale factory activities. However, the break since 1984 was significant, and compared to the rival NSR, which was showing incredible speed thanks to continuous development, the Suzuki was still inferior in terms of power.

However, Schwantz compensated for the machine's shortcomings with his incredible cornering speed, and immediately won the Japanese Grand Prix. Even when Gardner's NSR overtook him again and again on the straights, he would always overtake him in a flash in the corners, where he was incomparably faster. And then, a miraculous victory. A stunning win. In this race, he suddenly joined the ranks of top riders.

Schwantz's riding at this time was unique, showing a deeper lean angle than anyone before. With his tall stature and long limbs, Schwantz possessed a fortunate physique. In addition to the power slides that were commonplace in the 500cc class, he could increase his speed and control the bike to the point where it could perform inertial slides in corners like a lightweight machine. This was something only Schwantz could do.

Schwantz's riding, far exceeding expectations, had a significant impact on Suzuki's factory racing activities. Of course, they hadn't anticipated winning so many races in their first year, or achieving such success. This dramatically accelerated the development pace of the bike.

The following year, in 1989, the bike achieved such a significant improvement in potential that rival manufacturers once again acknowledged the excellence of Suzuki's two-stroke racing technology.

This machine, combined with Schwantz's superb riding style that knew nothing but attack, produced truly astonishing speeds.

On the left:

“The 'in the zone' version” The head and gaze tilt in harmony with the lean angle. The rider's chin is tucked, leaning into a slight crouch. This posture causes the outside knee to protrude more prominently.

“The 'out of sync' version” The head isn't matching the lean angle; it's staying horizontal to the horizon. Because the head position is higher, it looks like the rider is trying to monitor the struggling machine from above.

On the right:

1993 season. Compared to Superpike, his body is positioned more towards the front, causing his outside leg to be flared outwards. His longer inside leg appears to be cramped between the machine and the track surface.

'87 AMA Superbike. Compared to the '93 season, it looks more orthodox, perhaps due to the lean angle. Because the machine is more upright, the inside leg opening is wider.

Schwantz’s signature trait: A high vantage point

Schwantz is fast. He's an incredibly fast rider. But he's not a "strong" rider. "Fast" and "strong" are different things. Schwantz's defining characteristic lies in the height of his head (line of sight). He appears to be looking down on the machine's behavior from a high vantage point. This is particularly noticeable during his trademark aggressive braking. He supports his entire body weight with just his outside leg, leaving the inside leg completely free.

Because his head and line of sight are positioned so high, his back is less arched (more upright) compared to other riders. Consequently, his hips sit closer to the tank, causing his outside knee to jut out significantly to the side. I believe this is a hallmark of a rider who relies heavily on front-end feel.

When comparing his 1987 and 1993 forms: In '87, perhaps because he was racing a Superbike, his posture wasn't as extreme as it would become by '93. However, the fundamental relationship between his body and the center of the machine remains the same. The difference in '93 is that his riding became much more dynamic; the way his inside shoulder drops into the turn is far more pronounced than in '87.

In the '93 season, because the bike leans so deeply, his unusually long inside leg has nowhere to go; it looks cramped, tucked tightly between the machine and the asphalt.

When looking at the "In the Zone" vs. "Out of Sync" versions of his form, pay close attention to the position of the outside knee, the head, and how deeply the inside shoulder is tucked. The "In the Zone" version looks far more aggressive and combat-ready. If you watch for this relationship between the tilt of the head and the inside shoulder while viewing a race, you can clearly see Schwantz’s momentum.

Perhaps for Schwantz to transition from a merely fast rider to a truly "strong" one, he needed the mental preparation that comes with being a "Champion."

Schwantz: The Transformation into the World's Fastest Man

Incredibly, out of 15 rounds [a/n: in 1989], he secured 9 pole positions and a season-high 6 wins. When you consider that Lawson—the champion that year—had only 1 pole and 4 wins, you can see just how extraordinary Schwantz’s raw speed was.

Of the 9 races he didn't win that year, there were distinct reasons: 3 were due to mechanical failure, 2 were crashes, 1 was rain, and 1 was at Laguna Seca, a track he struggled with. That leaves only one race: the French GP at Le Mans. This was the only race of the year where Schwantz fought a fair fight and was simply beaten. Interestingly, the victor wasn't his rival Rainey, but the champion, Lawson. It was in this year that Schwantz truly became the fastest man in the world.

Previously, during the heyday of Spencer and Lawson, I interviewed Mr. Oguma of HRC regarding the compatibility of a rider’s physique with a 500cc machine. He noted that a taller stature is actually an advantage for the 500s. He suggested that if it weren't for the influence of Kenny Roberts [who was smaller], manufacturers likely would have trended toward developing bikes specifically for taller riders. There was always a possibility that height would be a distinct advantage in controlling a 500cc beast.

Schwantz’s riding style takes 100% advantage of that physical edge. He uses his large frame to freely manhandle a machine that was otherwise tuned toward stability. Braking, in particular, is the most difficult aspect of machine control, yet Schwantz manages to brake while controlling a wildly bucking bike at an astonishing level. His battle with Rainey at Hockenheim in '91 was the perfect embodiment of this "Schwantz-esque" mastery.

Do you miss competing?

Rainey: As you can see, I don't have to train as much as I used to... Seriously though, I'm enjoying life now. It's fantastic to be back in the paddock and see that people remember you. I hadn't been to a Grand Prix since 2000 in Portugal. I knew that coming to Montmeló would bring back memories and things that had been part of my life, so I hesitated to come. But I'm very clear that as soon as I get on the plane to go home, I'll put these memories aside. I don't always think about bikes... It's been a long time since my last race in 1993, but the riders' problems are still basically the same.

Doohan: I thought I would miss it, but I don't. Looking back, I think I did the right thing leaving the bike because psychologically I wouldn't have been able to handle another two years. I'm very happy away from the circuits, a bit like Wayne. I don't think about it much. But it's nice to be back at a track and involved, even if I don't feel like racing. I never want to do it again, although I don't mind trying out bikes; it's different.

Schwantz: Honestly, no. I don’t miss the tension of competition, of the teams, and the pressure you put on yourself to be able to win every weekend.

Does any current rider remind you of yourself?

Doohan: That's a great question. What I look for most is the dedication, the attitude of the riders. That's why I like riders like Nicky Hayden. He always seems to want to put more mileage on his bikes; he's in the pits all day. He gives the impression that he won't give up until he achieves his goals. Other riders think they're legends even before winning a race, and that's their downfall.

Rainey: Every rider has a different way of achieving results. Valentino is very explosive and always seems to be enjoying what he's doing, but I don't think I was like that. I worked with Sete Gibernau, Loris Capirossi, Kenny Roberts Junior, Norick Abe, and Carlos Checa, and they all have different ideas about how things are done. After working with them, I realized why I became world champion. My system only worked for me because I did things the way I liked. That's why I think it's a bit of a stretch to say someone is like me, because everyone has different aspects.

Schwantz: I think Valentino. Apparently, I was his idol when he was a kid, and he used to wear a replica of my leathers when he rode mini-bikes. I think he's a bit like me because he tries everything to make things work. In the same circumstances, the vast majority would prefer to go into the pits and try to make adjustments that improve the bike.

You're part of what's been called "the golden age of motorcycling." What were things like back then? How did it work?

Rainey: If someone beat you by a tenth of a second in practice, it was a real tragedy. It was like a hammer blow. It was an incredibly competitive time. I think Kevin and Mick feel the same way. Back then, there wasn't a dominant rider, just the one who was going to win. Everyone knew it. It was a special time, but now, when I look back, that's when I really remember it. I think we're in a new golden age. Barcelona was fantastic. I was with Kevin, and people were asking us for autographs on the same sheet of paper. Before, this would have been impossible; we hated each other too much. He feels the same way. Now we have a great friendship.

Doohan: It was incredible. When I started, I thought it wasn't possible to do what they were doing on the bikes. At every corner, I thought they weren't going to make it. Especially Kevin. Watching him was fantastic. Wayne had enviable consistency and speed, but Kevin had a burst of speed that left you in the dust. I think he retired too soon. It was a great time to race.

Schwantz: It was fun but very tough. You spent a lot of time, too much, getting up off the ground, picking up the bike, going back to the pits thinking about what small mistake caused the incident, the crash, or whatever you want to call it. We got hurt a lot, and too often we didn't think much of the injuries. Broken fingers, hands, feet...it was practically an everyday occurrence, normal, part of what we did. When it was an arm or a leg, the only difference was that it took longer to heal. Wayne realized before the others that something was wrong. It was like, "I have to get out there as soon as possible." No matter what you did, no matter what kind of cast you used, no matter what kind of injury you had, you had to go out there and ride. And that's what we did for years.

If you were a team manager planning for next season, which riders would you like to have on your team?

Doohan: If I were in that position, I'd have Nicky Hayden and John Hopkins. They're two young riders with a lot of determination. Maybe I'd also take another rider with no expectations to show him what he can do.

Rainey: I'd definitely take someone young who's looking for their way. I like Daniel Pedrosa. He's young, and he came up to me in Barcelona and asked me some very intelligent questions, which impressed me. I know he's still young, but if he keeps this up, he'll have no problem riding big bikes. I look at the riders I've worked with, like Sete, Loris, or Carlos, and I feel I could help them a lot now, because they've understood what I used to tell them, back when they were just local idols.

Schwantz: I would work with Valentino because he has a great work ethic and because he tries everything to be better. For riding style, I would choose Max Biaggi, who is very methodical. I have always admired his style because he has always had great control over the bike.

What are you currently doing?

Schwantz: I work with Suzuki in the United States and with their Superbike team. I have a riding school in Atlanta. I will also go to France and Germany to teach some classes after the summer. Maybe we'll end up in Japan at the end of the year. I will also do a bit of supermoto for fun.

Doohan: I am the general manager of HRC and I did some television work for Channel 10 in Australia. I did it last year after Barry Sheene died. They were a bit lost because they had just acquired the F1 rights and didn't know anyone there. I helped them out at some races by doing interviews with a number of personalities. I did the Australian MotoGP last year and I think I'll do it again this year. I'm also committed to doing something at six Formula 1 races, of which I've already covered three.

Rainey: I'm racing karts with Eddie Lawson, who's very competitive. It's his life. We race about eight times a year. In fact, I'm in Barcelona on a mission for him. I have to find out everything I can about the Yamaha 250, because he wants to race his kart a bit more. Basically, I do it for pleasure.

How do you think your old team is doing?

Rainey: Yamaha is doing everything they can to help Valentino win. I've never seen them work so hard. Actually, in my day they were never that involved in racing. They managed to pull it off because of the structures they built and because Kenny Roberts and I were able to beat anyone back then. Honda had a lot of riders fighting for the championship; Yamaha didn't. This year they've decided to go all out to defeat Honda, something they've never done before. In my opinion, Valentino made the right decision when he decided to come and fight for the title with another manufacturer.

Doohan: Repsol Honda has won 7 of the last 10 world championships, which is a great record. I think they should have kept Valentino Rossi, because this isn't Formula 1, and it's the rider who makes the difference in our sport.

Schwantz: For me, there's nothing worse than not succeeding. Racing trying not to be last on the grid, like they were last year, must be demoralizing. I'd walk past the pits and there were only sad people. They've managed to pull through pretty well and are starting to solve the problems. They're making progress. It's much harder to progress now than when I was around. When I was racing, there were six or eight teams. Now there are about twenty, and a bad day means being in the top 15.