Sport or spectacle? A Supercross skeptic sees the light

Hours later, when a lightning storm late in the final act electrified the poncho-clad crowd and reduced the remaining heats to a battle for survival, I was sold. Supercross cynicism be damned! When the circus comes to town, you go.

So with optimism as our marching orders, what began as a pleasant day at the races for a motley crew of Zillans descended into muddy madness at MetLife Stadium in East Rutherford, New Jersey, for the late April round of the 2023 Monster Energy AMA Supercross series.

Some of our group — OK fine, just me — basically expected a glorified monster truck rally plus all the fireworks and freestyle backflips that drove me away from bikes in my jaded youth. I headed for the hotel 12 hours later dead tired and dead wrong — and you should, too.

"The mud, the blood, and the beer"

That old Supercross slogan once slung by former announcer Larry Huffman, during the era of Coors and Camel sponsorship naturally inside a premix-choked arena, is long gone. In its place, an afternoon of kid-friendly attractions, displays of stunning two-stroke vintage iron, big rigs, brave privateers, and global brands with loads of money.

You could talk to factory mechanics mid-job about suspensions that carry a five-digit price tag, or revel in the tailgating with all the parking lot bacchanal and bench racing one might expect. Look around long enough and you'll find the experience that fits your group's age, expectations, and requirements.

Welcome, race fans

With a bit of luck on our side, we snagged two lanyards for a track walk across the ground floor of this football field turned mechanized gladiator stage. All it takes is 77,000 wheelbarrow loads of dirt, 6,800 sheets of plywood, and 60 hours of effort to lay it all out.

Let's just say I don't have the longest racing career, but I've turned two dozen laps around an outdoor motocross national track with respectable results. That all falls laughably short of SX jumps you nearly have to crawl up and whoops where height is measured with a yardstick. Seeing any course this close puts it in perspective and appreciation of Supercross-specific skills suddenly goes through the roof.

MetLife is, of course, an open-air stadium. That became relevant after we enjoyed hours of action and an "unprecedented weather delay" forced the entire stadium out of their seats to shelter in place. Half the headcount seemingly went home while the faithful hung around in hopes of a restart.

The all-clear finally came — which doesn't always happen, and I've had Mother Nature dash my hopes, dreams, and dollars at the starting grid. The remaining fans, all charged up for a real-deal mudder, took to their seats for the bar-banger finale.

"I held on for dear life and we just went for it," Suzuki's 450 main podium finisher Ken Roczen said in the post-race press conference. "Anything can happen. It can really play in your favor, or it can be the total opposite so you've just got to roll with it." To wit, victory celebrations just looked more genuine this time around with indistinguishable outfits and bikes bathed in brown.

Are you not entertained?

It's the most popular form of motorcycle sport in the United States and has arguably been a spectacle since Supercross inventor/promoter-turned-convict Mike Goodwin first brought it indoors in 1972. Some roll their eyes at the pyrotechnics flanking a holeshot, while a co-worker reflected that anyone — motorcyclist or not — would have had a blast at the Saturday night spectacle. Where do you land between the triples and the trappings of such showmanship?

As a semi-recent road-to-dirt transplant, I wanted to see how the other half lives inside that lightning-in-a-bottle stadium atmosphere. The pelotons of power that MotoAmerica Superbike spectators can feel from the stands isn't there. It's just different; it's bursts of speed, leaps of faith, and scalpel-like precision executed flawlessly for 20 minutes.

So am I a purist curmudgeon, or just easily impressed? Maybe my "Sunday! Sunday! Sunday!" presumptions were wrong all along, but those ancient Romans sure were on to something. A thrilling day at the coliseum full of overpriced bread and circuses never hurt nobody… except maybe the chariot racers and productivity the following day.

This show's on the road come Saturday night in Nashville. So let your guard down, get your eardrums blown out, and sit in the rain while watching professionals in this pantheon of dirt bikes. Sure, it's a circus, but if the circus only comes to town once a year, you go.