Fear, speed, mom and the bride: the marvelous world of Bezzecchi and Martin

Just days before the highly anticipated Italian Grand Prix at Mugello, Aprilia Racing riders Jorge Martín and Marco Bezzecchi turned off their engines for a few hours to spark the enthusiasm of a very special audience.

The auditorium of the magnificent Piaggio Museum in Pontedera (Pisa) was filled with girls and boys under 18, some much younger. Jorge and Marco arrived like two stars, walking past a line of vintage Vespas, under the gaze of an elegant Audrey Hepburn and a carefree Gregory Peck, the protagonists of “Roman Holiday.” This 1953 film helped make this popular scooter a full-blown icon: Hollywood, two wheels, emotion, and freedom.

Bezzecchi and Martin, joined on stage by Massimo Rivola, the former Ferrari manager who has given wings to Aprilia Racing, were swept up by the enthusiasm and curiosity of this special audience. There were no banal questions or canned ones from a “press scrum.” The kids put the riders on the spot with sharp, mature, and decidedly intelligent reflections that probed the most intimate folds of their lives and careers.

Martin and Bezzecchi didn’t hide behind a superhero image. They explained how fear isn’t a limitation, but a traveling companion to keep with you, a warning bell that reminds you how far you can push. There were fun moments too. Albarosa sparked curiosity—the name Marco Bezzecchi gave his Aprilia RS-GP. The championship leader revealed he thought about it a lot. “I’m married to Aprilia, and the bike I ride I consider my wife. That’s why it deserves a name worthy of the role. And since we have two in the garage, I chose a name that, ultimately, was… two.” Open smiles and applause.

Jorge Martín, with his movie-star looks and a slightly unsteady gait from the knocks he took at the last GP two weeks ago at Montmeló, moved everyone. In response to a question about what went through his mind in the laps before his 2024 World Championship triumph, Jorge shared an anecdote. “My mind went to the image of my mom making pasta while I trained with the mini-bike at a kart track. I was a kid who dreamed of MotoGP, and I was about to win the title.”

And what if Bez and Martin hadn’t become riders? “I would have been a mechanic; my dad has a workshop where I worked while racing in the lower series. I went fast precisely because I feel better on track than in the shop.” Jorge, on the other hand, says that “I probably would have tried to make my way in another sport, or at least find myself a place in this environment.” To a 17-year-old girl who wants to work in motorsport as a graphic designer, Massimo Rivola explained how to do it: “You design and put yourself forward. If you don’t get where you want, try, try again, and try again. You’ll see that in the end you’ll make it.”

The event ended with autographs, selfies, and the thrilling firing up of the Aprilia RS-GP in the courtyard, under a merciless sun like the frenzied roar of this beast. The young fans went home with the feeling of having met not only two world champions, but two very sweet guys. No longer unreachable figures, but much closer than we might have thought.

A few months ago, I attended the Pramac Racing presentation, one of the Yamaha teams, held in the splendid Chigiana Music Academy in Siena. This time, I had fun and was moved in a Museum, together with hundreds of kids. It’s not hard to see behind all this the vision of Liberty Media, the new promoter that, after revolutionizing the way Formula 1 is told, is changing the face of MotoGP. The US entertainment giant wants to break down the wall between champions and the public, bringing the paddock and its stars into alternative and unusual contexts for motorsport. Even into classrooms—why not?

As a great fan of motors, but also of cinema, theater, and books, I’m very taken with this choice. I don’t hide the fact that my heart beats for Formula 1, a bond born when I oversaw the Italian edition of the biography of the legendary engineer Adrian Newey: “How I Designed My Dream.” I had never followed GPs, but by getting to know this figure in depth I discovered a world, and now I don’t miss a lap. Meeting Bezzecchi and Martin, in such an informal yet moving way, made a deep impression on me as well. Seeing the riders shed their leather armor and smile spontaneously creates instant empathy and curiosity.

This Sunday there’s no F1, so I wouldn’t have turned on the TV. Instead, I won’t miss the Italian GP at Mugello to cheer for Marco and Jorge, who, with great ease and generosity, let themselves be discovered—at least a little. When sport breaks down barriers by telling the human side, it has already won.