When it comes to the debate about who’s the best rider of all time, people seem to always want to compare different eras. Recently, there’s been some talk about Eli Tomac and his dominance in the sport, and some have even started saying he might be better than me. Well, I’ve gotta set the record straight on this one. I’ve got a lot of respect for Eli and everything he’s accomplished, but to say he’s better than me? Nah. That’s not how this works.
Let me take you back to the way things were in my era. When I was racing, it was all about raw skill. Yeah, the bikes were fast and we had great technology, but the focus was on our ability to control the machine, race the track, and make the right decisions at the right times. That was the foundation of the sport. It wasn’t about the tech making you faster—it was about you being able to extract everything from the bike with your own two hands and your own head.
We didn’t have some of the fancy tech and digital tools that riders today have. No telemetry data that tells you exactly where to brake, where to throttle, or how much lean you need in a corner. We had to figure that stuff out on our own, by feel. Every lap was a challenge, and you had to adapt to the bike, the conditions, and the track in real time. That’s how we got the most out of our riding.
Now, don’t get me wrong, Eli Tomac is a heck of a rider. I don’t think anyone can deny that. The guy can flat-out go fast, and he’s won a lot of races. But I can’t help but feel like the technology available today has made the job a little easier for these guys. You can ride smoother, control the bike more precisely, and even get the bike to do things for you that we could only dream of back in the day. With all the electronic systems, riders today have a whole toolbox of tools to help them out. That’s not something we had back then, so in that sense, you could argue that the playing field has changed.
But this isn’t just about the technology. It’s about the way we raced and what we had to work with. The bikes back in my day were not as forgiving. They didn’t have the power delivery systems and electronic aids that modern bikes do. We didn’t have the traction control or the power maps that make it easier for riders to control the bike when things get sketchy. We had to rely on our own throttle control and our ability to adapt to the conditions. We had to make the bike work for us, not the other way around.
And look, I’m not saying Eli or any of the guys today couldn’t ride back in the day—they’re all fantastic riders, and I respect them for what they do. But when you talk about who had the most skill, who could push the envelope with what we had, there’s no question that our era was built on raw talent and skill. The bikes didn’t do as much of the work, and that’s what made the difference.
When I raced, you had to be a complete rider. You had to be able to ride fast, but also make split-second decisions, handle tough situations, and deal with the mental and physical demands that came with it. I wasn’t just winning races on pure speed—I was using everything I had, from technique to mental toughness, to dominate on the track. That’s what made it special.
So, while I’ve got all the respect in the world for Eli, I can’t let the claim that he’s better than me slide. He’s in a different era, with different tools at his disposal. And if you ask me, the riders from my time had to work harder and rely more on their own ability to make it happen. That’s the truth, plain and simple.
At the end of the day, we all have our place in history. Eli’s making his mark, and I respect that. But the skills we had back in my day? Those were built to last. You can’t replicate that. Not with all the tech in the world.
