At the mid-season mark, top-level speed on 2 and 4 wheelers grapples with a common theme. It has nothing to do with who wins: in this field, the two world championships have different and almost distant histories, with Red Bull and its reigning young world champion, Sebastian Vettel, acting as the hare in F.1, and with reigning world champion Jorge Lorenzo chasing a revived Stoner in the Moto GP with Honda back in full swing.
The line that combines 'top' speed on motorcycles and in cars speaks the language of maturity. The comparison, or rather the mirrored parallel, unites the two champions in their respective fields: Michael Schumacher and Valentino Rossi. There's no need to mention too much about their curricula: seven F.1 world titles for the German; nine (1 in the 125 class, 1 in the 250, 1 in the 500 and 6 in the Moto GP) for the Tavullia phenomenon on two wheels. 42 and 32 - respectively - years of age: a value, which in itself, better than any other introduces our comparison from a distance.
But given that talking about old age (or maturity, as we cautiously stated) in the case of these two sacred monsters of motor sport can easily slip into an affront, let's try to ask ourselves the question starting from the end. That is: if Schumi and Vale were 10 years younger, would they be experiencing the gauntlet that they are experimenting with their – always respectively – Mercedes and Ducati? The answer is almost pilatesque: probably yes. And then, a new question: and in this case, would they give the impression of almost resignation that they offer today? Much nastier answer: almost certainly not.
It's no mystery: in any sport, mature age can be almost successful in terms of experience, the ability to optimize human and technical values that may not be ideal. But when the passing years begin to expose the dip in energy, then even the blanket of maturity becomes too short. In our opinion, this is the problem of Michael Schumacher and Valentino Rossi. Which, in terms of speed on the track, the ability to face any extreme risk, may also have nothing to envy of the younger competitors. Schumi proved it in a couple of races this year, bringing his Mercedes in front of that of his young companion Nico Rosberg, who is not a thunderbolt of war but is a fast and capable, precise, high school driver even if perhaps not particularly aggressive in nature. Vale did the same every time his Ducati showed the slightest flicker of improvement, reaching the podium more for his obvious merit than for technical caliber.
But slowly, the swamp of technical competitiveness in constant decline, while that of the opposing teams increases from race to race as the pace of the championship requires, if you want to be competitive in the final rush, is weakening them. Their eyes, even more than their words, betray this content. Today's Schumi and Valentino look alike above all in the almost bewildered look that accompanies almost every finish line with words like "... Yes, we did our best. But that's not enough. We have to grow up." Words that, a few years ago, they would have said perhaps identical. But with a gleam of hatred in his eyes. A flicker of ill-concealed malice before diving into the immediate meeting and spewing it out to wake up the technical staff. To hiss: “If I don't win with this car/motorcycle either, then it really sucks. And it's your fault!"
Here it is: it may be that in these technical meetings – which we imagine here with pure storytelling spirit – neither Michael nor Valentino feel like banging their fists on the table in this way anymore. On the contrary, it may be that they are the ones to hear the engineers say: “We have tried them all, as you asked/suggested/imposed. But the times do not come. What do you propose now?”.
And if that's the case, then the answer to our question can only be this: the calendar can do everything; except go back.
