Tag Archives: supercross for assholes

Pre-race: It’s hard to bet against Roczen in this moto. He comes from Germany, where the tracks either suck (about 95%) or have perfect dirt. Kid is a machine in this stuff.

Holeshot: Tomac. I’m changing my bet.

Lap 2: Roczen is up to 3^rd behind Christian Craig, who is looking to prove that he is more than the TLD dude that instagrams a lot of stuff with his chick. He’s ripping right now.

Lap 3: Roczen moved into 2^nd and now Sipes is around Craig, too. Sipes also still exists, for your information.

Lap 4: Malcolm had just moved into 7^th past Cunningham, but he needed to exfoliate and you cannot put a price on good mud.

Lap 5: Osborne battling with Sipes for 3^rd, somehow manages to hit a double from so far inside he was basically on top of the tuff blocks.

Lap 6: Osborne into 3^rd, squares up Sipes then shuts him down in the whoops. He’s about that box.

Lap 10: Tomac ovah the bahhhs! #BostonStrong

Lap 10 (cont’d): Ralph just called the back of the bike “the tail section”, like it’s a fucking Boeing. Oh Sheheen, you slay me.

Lap 11: Speaking of the tail section, Tomac’s looks like it thinks it’s better than everyone else. Hey, you think you’re better’n me? You ain’t better’n me. Roczen is now leading, by the way.

Lap 13: Dynamite battle for 5^th happening with Sipes, Rattray, and Davalos. Running train on those ruts.

Lap 14: Politelli getting in the mix now for the battle for 5^th and Davalos got distracted by something shiny. He hit the ground.

Lap 15: Did I not call Roczen for the win? Granted I wrote this 4 days after the race but you know what, kids? Santa doesn’t exist. So enjoy that knowledge.

Finish: Roczen takes it. The ‘ship is now his to lose.

Before we get started, you all have undoubtedly noticed that this blog has been on hiatus for a while. I stopped because I got bored of it, simple as that. People came calling, and I realized that this is more important than me. The citizens need the Breakdowns. Because on the inside, we are all assholes (scientifically true, to a degree).

Pre-race: It’s raining. No surprise, Seattle is where Jesus goes to cry. Also, the Fox riders are running #Boston butt patches. Cool as fuck, and a phenomenal way to get chicks to try to click your ass.

Holeshot: Barcia gets it and (spoiler alert) that’s the ballgame. Villopoto got pinballed all over the place but Reed was the one who took the nut-kicking of fate in that fiasco.

Lap 2: Dungey’s number plate got into the mini bar at the hotel by the looks of things. He is actually picking his way through the pack, which he normally struggles to do.

Lap 3: Villopoto around Alessi. The crowd goes a little wild, but not as much as Minni for The Dunge. Can’t blame them, you wouldn’t cheer as loud if your child was a ginger.

Lap 4: It’s lap 4/20 on 4/20. The stands have emptied as everyone rushes to the pizza guy.

Lap 5: Villopoto is struggling with the ruts, but so is everyone else so it’s all good. Fish tail steeze for days.

Lap 8: Villopoto is right there, but Barcia’s brain is good at ignoring riders around him and telling insecurity to fuck off.

Lap 10: Considering the ruts on this track, giving a fuck is not a winning strategy. Wide open coming out of the turns and tracking a rut the whole way. NFG.

Lap 12: Vince has his hands full with Weimer, Brayton, Short, and Tickle on the move. Weimer actually came way through the pack in this race but no one has said anything about it.

Lap 14: This is not the race to fuck up your seatbounces. Shorty demonstrates (he saved it, cool your jets).

Lap 16: Barcia and Villopoto are dialed, they’ve lapped into the top 10.

Lap 17: Millsaps discovering the relentless hazards that are lappers stalling in your rut. No worries for him though since he rides a bike like it’s a tricycle that owes him money.

Lap 19: Weimer just moved into 5^th. He started somewhere like 13^th. Anytime you pass more riders than the number that beat you, you had a good race. Take that to the bank.

Lap 20: I’d say this is Barcia’s to lose, but anyone who has had a race locked up on a rutty track and fallen on the last fucking lap knows not to count those chickens.

Finish: Oh just kidding, Barcia wins it.