When Michael Dunlop published his autobiography last year I brushed it off as not worth reading, what could a twenty-something lad write autobiography about? In my eyes he had barely lived at all. Then my dad got himself a copy and gave it a read. “It’s good”, he said. “You’ll be surprised.”
Humph.
My first impression of Michael Dunlop was not a great one. The first time I ever saw him, he was swaggering across the pit lane at Killalane. It was 2007 and I won’t lie, my honest to goodness first thought as he went past was “you cocky twat”. He had a grin on him like a Cheshire cat and obviously thought he was some kind of big deal. I’d never seen him before. I assumed he was short circuit rider who had done well for himself there and thought he could make a name for himself on the roads. Ha! You’re with the big boys now. Let’s see how you do lad.
I asked my dad if he knew him. “That’s Robert’s youngest,” he said. “Did alright last year, caused a bit of a ruckus on the Island. Could take you down with him right and handy though.”
In other words, the boy was an eejit.
Later in the day he was out to race with his brother William. He went down early. From what I heard he tried to take a space that wasn’t there and instead he sent the both of them off the bikes.
My dad wasn’t far off the mark there then. Don’t tell him I said that though.
So when Michael’s book came up as a “suggested read” on Kindle Unlimited (where you pay around £7 a month to borrow unlimited books from Amazon) I thought what the heck, I’ll give it a go, it’s free. I’m on chapter 13, still five chapters from the end and I’m just about ready to admit that I was wrong. My dad was right. Again. The book is great. Give it a read.
From a childhood spent exploring the many acres of his home at Ballynacree with his brothers, to sitting at the kitchen table listening to the races on the radio, you can tell that this is a lad who from an early age was itching to be racing with his dad. He would have loved to be bombing round the paddock, hanging too far over the hedges watching the bikes scream past and checking out who was who on the grid.
He’s honest. He doesn’t sugar coat anything and he doesn’t deny that he thinks he’s the big man either.
“Honestly, I don’t care what he thinks. I don’t care what anyone thinks. Most riders my age still have the stabilisers on.”
I spent my entire childhood around bikes. I knew his uncle Joey and dad Robert of course, I’d watched them race while I was still in my pram, but I’d never seen or heard of Michael.
My brother and I were practically raised in the paddock, running a bit wild with our dirty runners and muddy bikes every weekend while our dad raced his 750. We loved it. Dodging cowpats (the paddock was always in a farmers field), eating peanut butter and cheese sandwiches with hot cups of sugared tea and kitkats in the back of the van and running behind the bike with dad’s lid and gloves before a race.
We made friends with the other kids and together we got up to all sorts – we definitely hung way too far over the hedges watching the racing – it was all great fun though and no harm was ever done. Those were the good old days.
The prologue of Road Racer delves right in. Michael takes you right into the thick of it – straight to the day you want to hear about most. He’s going flat out, 160-miles an hour round the North Coast circuit and he’s determined to win.
“…the hedges. I go so close to them my overalls will be green by the end. It’s not advised. It’s not sensible. In fact it’s bloody dangerous. But it’s me. It’s how I ride. I’m nineteen. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”
In 2008 I was up at the University of Ulster in Coleraine doing my Journalism course and as part of our final assessments we had to cover the NW200 for the University newspaper. So we went down into the paddock during practice and did a few interviews with a couple of the riders and a quick interview with Kate Martin, Guy Martin’s younger sister who was his mechanic at the time. Then the news came through what had happened with Robert.
When word spread on race day that William and Michael’s bikes were being lined up on the grid even though the officials had deemed them both “unfit to race” I wasn’t surprised in the slightest. I remembered the young lad I’d seen swaggering across the pit lane at Killalane the year before and thought, if ever there was a fella who would be determined to take a win today, it would be him.
The 2008 NW200 was the first time I seen young Michael Dunlop properly race. My first impression of him the year before as a “cocky twat” was upgraded to “cocky twat and lunatic”. And I mean that in a good way… sort of. Most riders race for the love of the sport, but you do get a few who ride for one reason only. To win. Michael Dunlop rides to win.
And in his book he doesn’t deny it, he embraces it.
“You say ‘wanker’, I say ‘winner’. Who’s to say who’s right?”
He’s not even 30 and he’s already got 18 TT wins under his belt, but he still recalls the feeling of getting his first set of wheels – he’s three years old and it’s tractor.
He’s relatable.
His longing to be at the races with his dad is an overwhelming theme and he talks about one time, when he was ten-years-old, he talked his mate into driving him to Monaghan for the race. He describes seeing the paddock for the first time – the sights, sounds, smells and colours. If you’ve ever been to a race you’ll know exactly what he’s talking about. It certainly took me right back to those days.
He doesn’t hold back with anything either and I’d say the book reflects his racing style – no holds barred.
My mum and dad were down at Skerries this year. They said they seen the Dunlop boys go past before the red flag was brought out and all the bikes were sent back up the road. Dad said they knew then it was a bad one.
I’ve read that Michael didn’t race at Armoy and he wasn’t on the grid at Dundrod (Ulster Grand Prix) either. Some people are saying that maybe this is just one loss too many for him.
In one of the earliest chapters in the book, Michael describes falling off his dad’s 125 in Spain during a test run. His dad made him get back on the bike before they left the circuit, telling him that if he didn’t get straight back on, he never would. So maybe the people saying he’s quit for good are right, but then again, in Michael’s own words…
“Like it or not, this is my life. This is the script I’ve been given. This is who I am.
I’m Michael Dunlop: Road Racer.”
Michael Dunlop, Road Racer: It’s in My Blood is available on Amazon.