those early days, when we operated out of the back of a van with minimum sponsorship, were a far cry from the level of support that the top teams now receive. Just look at the pictures from Pergusa in 1988 to get a feel for the kind of outfit that was behind me back in those days.
But everyone has to start somewhere and, from my days in schoolboy motocross through to my holding those world championship trophies aloft, one thread ran through my career – I could not stand to lose. And that was probably what set me apart from other riders. It didn’t matter what the race, there was only one place to finish. And, before I became a factory rider, I needed to race and win as often as possible just to pay the bills.
So, as a privateer in 1992, I jumped at the chance to ride in the Malaysian championships for the PETRONAS Sprinta team, run by David Wong, a consultant for the PETRONAS Motorsport department. There were a couple of fast young Aussies to beat, but I managed to win a few races quite comfortably. That must have impressed PETRONAS, Malaysia’s state-owned petroleum corporation, because when we started to look for sponsorship for my own team in 2001, David, who had remained in touch throughout my career, was soon in contact. PETRONAS had been funding the development of a new 989cc triple engine, called the GPI, with its Swiss-based joint-venture company Sauber PETRONAS Engineering. It was expected that the engine would be leased to Grand Prix motorcycle teams, but my successful association with PETRONAS resulted in a five-year World Superbikes project, with my team – Foggy PETRONAS Racing – making our debut in 2003 on the first Malaysian superbike, the PETRONAS FPI.
The sheer scale of the project, which also involved the creation of an elite race bike for the road, really hit home when the road version was launched at the PETRONAS twin towers in Kuala Lumpur in November 2003. Sure, we had a few teething troubles in the first year of racing but, at the time of going to press, we have achieved two podiums and a pole position, with promising signs of more to come. But, as everyone should know by now, I won’t be happy until one of our riders is standing on the top step of that podium.
You might well ask what Carl Fogarty, a lad from Blackburn, Lancashire, who didn’t pay much attention at school but was pretty talented on a motorbike, can bring to the running of a successful racing team. Well, I pretty much leave the business side of things to the experts. And, sure, my reputation helps raise the profile of the team, which is also very important. But with that reputation comes expectation – and nobody’s expectations are higher than my own. Throughout my career as a rider I would never settle for second best. I expected to win races and I expect my team to do the same. When Chris Walker, another competitive guy if ever there was one, brought the bike home in third place at Valencia in the first race of the 2004 season, I couldn’t help leaping over the pitwall and onto the track to celebrate. If just a fraction of that desire for success can rub off on the team, from the riders down throughout the whole team, then I will feel I have been successful in my new role.
So, while I am able to look back on the championship years with pride, I’d like to think that there are more chapters of this book still to fill …
You can see the straw bales giving minimal protection from the road signs. You also get an impression of how big the RC30 was – it was basically a road bike with a Tony Scott-tuned engine.
My first ever world championship win! This was a big race for the Dunlop brothers, Joey and Robert, in front of a massive crowd of 60,000 at the fast but dangerous Dundrod circuit. It was very narrow in places and people were extremely close to the action when sitting on the banking. Bad weather was almost guaranteed, making it even more dangerous. The event was a journey into the unknown for me and it showed when I qualified on the fifth row in 21st. But I shot through the field like a scalded cat and, by the end of the first lap, I was in the lead. I was very fast in the wet in those days and the Metzeler tyres worked well in the rain. I led until the finish, expecting Joey to come past at any moment. But Joey only managed seventh and suddenly, out of nowhere, I was five and a half points behind the leader of the world championship with just two rounds remaining, and I eventually won by 16 seconds. Michaela, having tuned the radio to an Irish station, was listening to events from a car park in Bolton.
I don’t know where Joey Dunlop popped up from. Earlier that weekend my mates had to take him to hospital after he crashed in qualifying.
A whole squad of guys from Blackburn – I nicknamed them the Ant Hill Mob after the Whacky Races cartoon characters – had travelled down to Sicily, some in the back of the van and a few more in an old Jaguar owned by the guy who ran the local nightclub, to support me. Early in the race I was battling with an Italian on a factory Bimota, Gianluca Galasso, but when he broke down I was out on my own.
You could just about do the race on one full tank but, with just a few more miles left to complete, the bike started to cut out. So I dived into the pit-lane and the crowd went ballistic as this suddenly made the race much more interesting. Needless to say, the Ant Hill Mob weren’t ready so we just poured the petrol – just enough so that I could make the final lap. I shouted at them to push me back out and luckily I made it round and won the race. That left me at the top of the world championship standings with one round remaining at Donington – and fifth place there was enough to win my first world championship.
My mechanic Lou Durkin, in the best pit-lane attire, frantically pushing me back out for that final lap
The day was red hot and I was sweating like a racehorse on the podium. I was not even wearing a vest under my leathers it was so hot. All I needed to do now was keep an eye out for the Mafia after beating the local favourite!
Punching the air as I crossed the line.
With this many Brits taking part, it looks more like a British championship race. I had just gone underneath Roger Burnett (51) and was about to clear off and didn’t see anyone for the rest of the race. You can see Trevor Nation on the Norton, followed by a glimpse of Hislop’s helmet, then James Whitham and
