You never really sleep the night before. There’s always that thin thread of tension that keeps you awake, even when your body begs for rest. You set the alarm anyway – just in case – even though, when it goes off, your eyes have been wide open for a while.
You skip breakfast because your stomach’s in a knot. But your hands are restless, going for the gear bag that’s been ready for days: suit, pads, helmet, gloves, boots – you check them over and over again. It’s not about superstition, it’s a ritual. It gets you into race mode. It calms you down. It reminds you what’s about to happen.
When you arrive at the Tazio Nuvolari Circuit in Cervesina (PV), you’re surrounded by familiar faces, some smiling, others not so much. There are mechanics, friends, people cracking jokes to ease the tension, and others who prefer to stay silent. But we all feel it, on our skin—we’re on the same wavelength: today we race for real.
Helmet on, mind elsewhere
The moment before getting on the bike is the strangest. You’re still, but everything inside is racing. You think about one last trip to the bathroom. You mentally review the track, corner by corner. You try to recall the grip, the braking points, where you messed up yesterday and where you can gain today.
Outside, there are people shouting, adjusting things, taking pictures, or just silently hoping you won’t get hurt. But it all feels far away, muffled by your helmet and the tunnel of focus.
Because in that moment, you’re both here and already ahead seeing yourself hit that curve, cross that finish line.
At least that’s how it is for some of us. Others stop thinking altogether, like on test day: you’ve studied hard, you know everything, and then blank. Luckily, on the track, there’s instinct and muscle memory too—not just focus and theory.
And so there you are, helmet on and one thought stuck in your head: you made it here, now you can’t mess up.As you think it, it almost feels like a prayer, even if you don’t believe in God. Some people really do pray, blow kisses to the sky, make the sign of the cross. Anything goes, as long as it brings peace. Even silly things, like repeating the same mantra in your head or tapping the same spot on your bike seven times before setting off.
Small superstitions. Rituals to find balance. We laugh about them, but we take them seriously.
Seconds to go
The engine roars and your heart beats so hard you feel it in your hands, gripping the handlebars tighter than usual. The tires heat up, and the world slows down.
You’re alone, even in the middle of a crowd.
The visor goes down, and everything disappears: people, stands, paddock. It’s just you, your scooter, the track, and everyone you want to leave behind in your dust.
Then instinct kicks in. You do what you’ve learned. You react. You push. Until you see the checkered flag. It’s over: there’s nothing left to do but compare results.
Alla fine qualcuno salirà sul podio e qualcuno no, ci sarà chi avrà migliorato di mezzo secondo e chi avrà stretto i denti fino all’ultimo giro. Ma il cuore, in questa corsa, l’avranno messo tutti, dai ragazzi della Malossi Racing Academy ai veterani che calcano le griglie da anni. Il pubblico ha fatto il tifo, la tensione si è tagliata col coltello e la giornata è finita tra abbracci, pacche sulle spalle e qualche “alla prossima andrà meglio”.
Someone will make it to the podium, someone won’t. Someone will shave off half a second, someone will grit their teeth through every lap. But everyone will have raced with heart, from the Malossi Racing Academy rookies to the seasoned veterans who’ve been hitting the grid for years.
The crowd cheered, the tension was real, and the day ended with hugs, back pats, and a few “next time will be better.”
Want the official results? You’ll find them here, but keep in mind, they don’t tell the whole story.
For example, they don’t say how I placed in Cervesina. Not because it’s a secret, but because it no longer matters. All I have in my head now is the Malossi Trophy final: September 19–20–21 in Varano de’ Melegari (PR).
