Words: Travis Newbold

Photos: Jon Wallace/ Brapp Snapps

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I don’t care for team sports. In fact, I rather despise them. I can remember getting teased at an early age for trying to throw a football and resembling a walrus with a half lopped off flipper. 25 of my 35 years have been happily devoted to racing motorcycles and not much else. So when my good friend and fellow racer Mikey asked if I wanted to join his Motoball team I was a bit apprehensive. But I know sometimes we need to take the good with the bad; Soccer: bad, Motorbikes: good.

 

Then one week before the tournament Mikey broke his collarbone in a practice match. My apprehension grew. I decided to ignore everybody’s recommendation to watch YouTube videos in an effort to learn the sport and, instead, went to the tournament completely green and not knowing any ball handling techniques beyond the old scrub and scratch I perform in the shower and on my couch.

 

The first match was a bit of figuring out and there was definitely some monkey on football action if you know what I mean. But I soon figured out that I could skid up to the ball and scoop it away rather quick compared to other riders. My buddy Phil who is usually locking bars with me in a heated battle to the checkered flag was now my ally and we worked well together finding that if we could get the ball to our team mate Mousse, that Mousse could kick the ball so hard it was like Patriot missile.

 

Our beer drinking, cig smoking Goalie Lance was our MVP (most valuable player). He blocked goal attempts with full dive commitment. Hooray for beer, cigarettes, and enough post game whiskey to kill a whale.

 

I left the Motoball USA tournament with a new appreciation for team sports and the camaraderie involved. I eagerly await the next tournament and urge all my fellow self-achieving racers to give this game a try. GO MOTOBALL USA!