After enjoying an exciting Tissot Sprint on Saturday, I was looking forward to watching another MotoGP Sunday at The Pretentiously Named Circuit of the Americas, deep in the heart. My plans were derailed late Saturday night when I found myself on the bathroom floor of my house having what t...
At this point it became clear, at least to this observer, that the racing gods were drunk and playing the game with their feet. Kicking all the main protagonists and usual suspects into the grass or the gravel. Cracking up at the prospect of awarding a 15-year old Turkish kid, profession...