Asher ✓

56 | celebrate

APRIL 6, 2020 / DETILLO ARENA

At New Era Field, back in January, there'd been so many rookies.

Asher could tell, but he couldn't tell any civilian how he could tell.

All motocross competitors had that instinct. It was something he'd picked up after years in the industry, after having been a rookie himself once.

Maybe it was the way they tensed themselves on their bike, thighs taut and wrists itching to slam the gas, ready to combust with anticipation. That was certainly one way to prepare for a race, but coiling oneself too tightly sometimes had the detrimental effect of tangling one's nerves and composure up past the point of unraveling.

Asher, and the more seasoned riders, kept their hands poised but loose, kept one foot on the platform and the other firmly on the ground and, most importantly, kept breathing.

Or maybe it was the way rookies took everything personally.

Pre-race their heads would be stuck in their machine, muttering with their pit crew about absolutely everything that could go wrong. Rookies refused to converse at length with any of their competitors — which Asher thought was a great shame, since most of the knowledge he'd picked up about motocross had been from older riders — and stood guard around their bike like they suspected everyone.

Post-race, rookies were the most noticeable because they were always, without a doubt, clamouring with their ID passes outside the VIP lounge, wanting first choice of the complimentary liquor.

Ah, Asher reflected on his own days in the smoky, alcohol-humid VIP lounges, to have a teenage liver.

Not many rookies had made it past the heat at New Era Field, which Asher had won, even less past the Jordan Dome heat, which he hadn't, then the Freelife Stadium heat, in which Number 34 had bested him, and then the Solaire Arena heat, which he had won again.

One got the picture.

Not that Asher was too far past his own rookie days. Sure, he wasn't as young and ambitious as he once was, but he was still spry and determined and an underdog. And if anyone put money on it, he could probably out-drink any of the newbies vying for dibs on the top shelf liquor.

Thank God Leon Lonzano raced in a different class of vehicle, or that bet may very well have been wagered today.

He was, however, the only retiree to re-enter the Series racetrack this season. As such, Asher felt outcast from both sides of the competition. The younger set were wary of any of the more experienced riders, and the older set didn't think Asher could hold a candle against them after being out of practice for so long.

Both groups, however, had heard all about Asher's rise to stardom as a mere teenager, his crash, his lying about any pre-existing conditions, and the scandal that swept the motocross world by storm for a good month before steady news days returned.

Eyes followed him surreptitiously, but this time more people bothered to approach him and strike up a conversation. His comeback — whether they felt threatened by him, pitied him or didn't know who the fuck he was — had earned the respect of all, both young and old.

Internally, Asher felt that he had the best of both worlds. He was familiar with the race dynamics, and with his machine. He knew how fast he could go before he'd skid, how high he needed to push to flip, at which angle he needed to project himself to land any leap. He had enough experience to calm the nerves and steady his breathing, but he was also, in some way, new.