[Sport] Joey Dunlop: Remembering the extraordinary ordinary man

[R e i]

 

It takes something special to win the world’s oldest motorcycle race, and even more to do it more times than anyone else. But to claim a third career hat-trick at the age of 48 years old, that takes something extraordinary. This is the story of the extraordinary ordinary man and his 2000 heroics: Joey Dunlop, a pub owner from Northern Ireland’s Ballymoney iwho raced bikes and was fairly good at it - so much so he went on to become a multiple world champion and factory Grand Prix rider for Honda. But 20 years ago today, just two weeks after his stunning triple TT victory, Dunlop was killed in a crash while competing in a low-key race in Estonia. Dunlop’s death left not just a sport in mourning, but an entire nation. More than 50,000 attended his funeral and many more watched on television. Northern Ireland had lost its favourite son at the time, and the sport had lost one of its greats.It was not just the success that made Dunlop so idolised. Of course having 26 TT wins under his belt helped, but it was his quiet, unassuming and reserved nature that left so many of his fans intrigued by his personality. Even his peers were perplexed by his private demeanour - many never knew whether he actually liked them or not when he passed - but for those who did, having his trust and respect meant an awful lot. Rarely does a conversation about the TT pass without the Dunlop name being mentioned, thanks to Joey’s legacy and that of his brother Robert and his sons Michael and the late William. Yet the stories that made Joey Dunlop so special rarely get told in full detail, so 20 years on from his final TT, we sought to find out about his finest achievement from those who witnessed it first-hand. John McGuinness, Michael Rutter and Ian Lougher have all forged their own successful reputations in the sport, but over that fortnight they could do nothing about stopping Dunlop from romping to success (along with David Jefferies, who equalled Dunlop with three victories that week). For some he was a rival, for others a friend, but for most he was a hero, and here is how theyDunlop is well remembered for thrashing the opposition in that race, finishing just short of a minute in front of Rutter, who relegated McGuinness to third and Lougher just off the podium in fourth. As predicted by Rutter, Jefferies was dicing with Dunlop for the lead when his bike gave up on the fifth lap, though his success would eventually come later in the week with victories in the Junior, Production and Senior TTs. This story could have been very different had Jefferies made it to the finish in the Formula One, but there was no doubting how well Dunlop was riding that year, as teammate McGuinness witnessed. “I’m on the superbike with a bit of pressure riding for the factory, I’m the new kid and now I’ve got the King of the Roads as a teammate,” said McGuinness. “So off we went to the North West and he stuck it on pole position at 48 years old, and the bike was horrendous. It was really slow, it was really unstable, I hated it. “

 

 

saw Joey Dunlop’s greatest week through their own eyes.“We were quite good friends, we got on as much as you could be a friend with someone like Joey,” said Lougher, a 10-time TT winner who stood on the podium with Dunlop that week and enjoyed more than his fair share of battles with him. “He was a very private person as everyone says, but when you’re one-to-one with him or only a couple of people that he liked were around him, you could get a good conversation going and a bit of banter out of him. You know, he was quite good fun. “But as soon as he came into a circle that was a little bit unknown to him or whatever, he would clam up. He was a really strange sort of person, but really when he died it was like I didn’t miss Joey just for the millions of battles that we had on the 125s and 250s and whatever, but I missed him for his personal side. He was a human being, and that’s what you missed because he was so kind and a good honest person. There was no bad side to him at all, he was a lot brighter than people thought and he wasn’t stupid by any means. People said if he felt like it he could drag a bike out the back of a van and go and beat you, but he wouldn’t. He put a lot of time and effort and work into it and I got to see that as well.” A native Welshman now living in Dunlop’s homeland across the Irish Sea, Lougher grew to know him as well as any rider in the TT paddock could realistically achieve without being either his brother or among his close circle of friends back home. He recalls many stories about their time riding together, so many in fact that as he remembers one, another quickly pops back into his head.It’s evident that the moments he cherishes the most are the ones they shared off the track, talking about what had just happened on it, which often took place over a beer or in the pub as was common in their day. After all, professionalism has taken a long time to infect the TT, and after racing at breakneck speeds nearing 200mph for 37.73-miles per lap, a pint is the least they deserve at the end of the day.It’s in these private chats where Lougher got to see the real Joey Dunlop: not the humble, silent and cheery rider the rest of us witnessed, but a man filled with emotions, with passion and - on the odd occasion - raw anger. He saw that most in the hours after Dunlop’s penultimate victory on the island, his 25th win that came in the Lightweight 250 TT that fateful year, when a jubilant Dunlop was anything but. “I

 

 

“I’d decided where I was going to pass him. It would have to be on the last lap, on the run down to the Creg-ny-Baa pub. There is always a massive crowd there, and it is one of the most iconic parts of the course - I mean, how many chances in a lifetime am I going to get to pass Joey Dunlop on the last lap of the Senior TT, at the end of an epic race on the road? It had to be at the Creg. It just had to be. “He was so neat in the way he sat on the bike and it never looked like he was trying. He was going so fast yet it looked effortless for him. I pulled up alongside of him out of his draught and I thought ‘I’ll have him here, I’ll show him’, but he hit his brakes so late that I thought ‘I’m not going to stop, and he isn’t going to stop either’. “I had gone from a picture in my mind of the most perfect overtake imaginable for a bike race to one where both of us end up in a heap on the floor of the pub car park. Somehow we both just got it stopped and round the corner. He had outbraked me, and I was supposed to be the big-shot short-circuit racer who was nearly half his age. I thought ‘bloody hell, this is amazing’. “We went through Signpost Corner and I was right on his back wheel, then we drove down towards Governor's, which is the very last place you can try and make a pass on anyone by outbraking them before the end of the lap. “He must have known that I was right behind him because he messed up a little bit. He braked so hard that - no word of a lie - his rear wheel was feet in the air; the bike must have been at 45 degrees, on its nose. He had to let the brake off or he was going to go right over his handlebars. I could tell he didn’t want to but he had no choice. “Obviously, I would have preferred to win the race, but racing that hard with such a massive legend for so long, on the greatest racetrack on the planet, went some way towards making up for not winning the overall race. “Joey and I shook hands, but he never said anything to me; not a word. I was absolutely buzzing but I had no idea if he enjoyed it or not. It was impossible to tell. “After the podium, I went into the press room with all the journalists.

Edited July 3, 2020 by Rei™