At 16 I was quite shy, just an awkward kid who only wanted to ride motorbikes. Nothing else mattered to me. I would tell everyone around me that one day I was going to be a motorcycling world champion. That’s strange, looking back on it now. I was so cocky and confident about that, but I was a very, very shy, quiet person in every other way. I wasn’t confident at all. I was scruffy, not very clean teeth, a horrible little person really. If I could go back I’d change all that.
I wouldn’t say my dad was encouraging. He left it up to me. I almost wish he’d been a bit more, you know, “ever think you might fancy trying bike racing?” Even when I was a schoolboy doing motocross, he never pushed me on. I sort of wish he’d said to me when I was six or seven, right, get yourself a little bike and start racing other kids. When I left school at 16 he got me a job at a company down the road who sold trucks. If I could go back to my teenage self now I’d say, what the hell are you doing? I had no interest in trucks. I don’t understand why I didn’t tell my dad, I don’t want to do that, I want to go down the road to the shop selling motorbikes and work there. But I was a stupid, awkward kid who wasn’t able to say that.
I might have been hard work to be around when I was winning
I wasn’t the most naturally talented racer. But I had real determination. I just hated losing. When I got beaten I would look at why it had happened. The way they ran their bike, the style – I might copy some of the things they did. Was there something about the way they went round corners that made them faster than me? I was so dedicated, I would have done anything to be number one. I wanted to win so, so badly. I never met anyone who wanted it as much as I did.
I might have been hard work to be around when I was winning. The more I won, the more famous I became, the more difficult I became. It was terrible, it really was. In some ways I regret that, I was bad. I started saying things about other people as well. I don’t know why I did it. But any time I felt another rider was getting close to my level, I started slagging them in public. It’s like I needed to make my main rival a hate figure. For me it was like two boxers before a fight. I had to go on about how I was the best. I’m lucky that I always backed that up with a win. But looking back, I find it embarrassing. I was winning the races anyway, why did I do that? To go from that shy little boy to this guy… the more I won the more I opened my mouth and the more big-headed I got.
When I won my first Superbike World title in 1994 – and I should have won in 1993 – the emotions were unbelievable. Massive relief. The next year I was even better and faster. I won again. Then I sort of thought, well where do I go from here? I remember talking to Barry Sheene and he said, the only place to go from here is to start losing. I didn’t like the sound of that so I started looking for new challenges.