Long Races

Dominique is much more than the team owner and manager of the most successful endurance team in history; he's a craftsman, committed to a sport that's steered his life for over 40 years... MSL: How did you get into endurance? DM: I always liked bikes and wanted to have a go at racing. I was still a schoolboy when I did my first race back in 1969. I had a Triumph Trident and entered it into a special 1000km race at Le Mans. It was a very big thing to do, because of the great distance. It was not easy, but the race was very rewarding. I fell in love with the sport and the unique spirit of the endurance scene.

I've never looked back. MSL: How much has it changed since those early days? DM: You can't compare the scene back then to what it is now. It was so less professional, with the focus being more on fun. No one had money, big trucks or big budgets and the paddock was much smaller. It was a lot more rustic, which was part of its charm. Compared to today, the scene's revolutionised, not evolved. The bikes we now race are of another world, being so powerful and hi-tech. People have to take things a lot more seriously. Personally, I look back on those old days with many fond memories. I can't ride a modern bike, but I still have my old Trident. MSL: What makes a championship-winning team? DM: It's all about the spirit of the team. The bike and the budget come second to the people in endurance racing. You can have all the money and the very best equipment, but if the team doesn't work like it needs to then you will fail. The riders are hugely important, but so too are the rest of the people around them. Most of the people in SERT have been in the team for decades. They've seen all the challenges that come about, some of which you could never imagine. You learn from those times and make sure they don't catch you out again. I'd sooner have one experienced man by my side than three who didn't know a thing about endurance. MSL: How affordable is endurance racing? DM: Any kind of racing is expensive. There are only four rounds of the WEC championship, but for less than what we spend in a season we could compete comfortably in the French Superbike championship. Endurance racing, when done properly, is far from cheap. You only need to think about the logistics to appreciate the financial requirements of our sport ­ getting our bikes, team and equipment out to Suzuka costs a fortune. And then you need to accommodate everyone, pay wages and so on. And don't get me started on the tyre bill. Endurance racing is not cheap, but for us it is worth it because nothing else brings the same level of enjoyment and satisfaction. MSL: Is it hard to find the right riders? DM: Things have got easier over the years. When I raced, fewer people cared or even knew about the importance of fitness or diet. They just rode bikes and had a good time. Those days are gone and we now need riders who are exceptionally quick, exceptionally fit and exceptionally strong in the head. You can find quick riders very easily, and most contemporary racers are pretty fit if they're racing at national or world level. But what's much harder to find is a rider with the right mental approach. We tend to find that people only develop the right attitudes in their late twenties. A resilience to the pain and tiredness that only endurance can bring, while keeping focused and not making silly mistakes. Finding new riders is not easy, but that's why we keep hold of the good ones when they come along. We're proud of how loyal our riders are and we appreciate having them. MSL: What makes the GSX-R1000 so suited to endurance? DM: Basically, the standard road bike is a tough machine, and even after we've tuned it the engine never gives us any problems. We've never had an engine blow up on us, which is pretty remarkable considering how long we race the bikes for during a single event. They crash well, too ­ we can always get them back to the garage to repair if necessary. MSL: What's been your career highlight? DM: There have been so many great times over the years. We've won a lot of world titles, which is always a very special occasion. You can go from feeling as low as possible to the highest feeling of your life. Like in 2013 at Le Mans when our bike developed a water leak. It meant a whole engine change, which took nearly an hour. Losing so much time is unthinkable in endurance, but everyone worked so hard and we managed to salvage precious points that led to us winning the title that season. You never forget times like that.

I'm no longer surprised by the firm feel, eagerness to lean or unprecedented amount of oomph. Not even the brakes can catch me out as I give them one last, hard squeeze at the end of the back straight. This machine is something else, and has twice the potential of what I'm drawing from it. The fact Vincent's still tailing me reiterates the fact, but he is a 10 times world champion. The final few corners feel the best yet, leading me all too soon toward the long run up pit-lane. The limiter's on, the bike's in one piece and I've just ticked a box I thought would never get ticked. The relief from the team that their precious Suzuki's still in one piece is beyond blatant. I want to go again, but there's no chance of that as the technicians start removing the fairing and fiddling with data feeds. It's game over, but what a great game it was to play. My heart seems to be beating flat-out and my arms ache. How these guys can stomach 24 hours in the saddle is anyone's guess, but it serves to highlight how much respect endurance racers deserve. Vincent comes over and gestures for my approval. The language barrier doesn't hide a thing; I'm ecstatic. It's over as quickly as it began, the team getting back to business and discussing strategies, making more changes to the Suzuki. They've got less than a month to prepare for round two of the 2017 WEC championships, but there's an air of confidence in the 10-man team. Was it all I hoped it to be? That and more, quite possibly the best three laps of my life.