OPINION: I’M RELUCTANT ABOUT THE RED BULL RAMPAGE

By Ron Koch

I watched with satisfaction as helicopters circled over the ridgeline in the distance. Just 24 hours earlier, I had seen some of the world’s best riders crash hard and heard what I’m fairly certain was the sound of one of their femurs breaking after mistiming a landing. It was all too much for me to take in. Instead of watching the event, I chose to go on a solo ride while my friends attended, and I had no regrets.

This happened to be the year that Paul Basagoitia had his accident. Years later, I interviewed him for MBA, and it was incredible to learn that he walked a half marathon eight years after the incident. In the years prior, I had no problem watching the Red Bull Rampage from the comfort of my computer screen, but actually being there—feeling the danger and seeing the size of the cliffs and the risks the riders were taking—was overwhelming. I couldn’t watch it, and I haven’t been able to since.

As I walked up the hillside on practice day, I was in awe of the sheer size of the cliff faces. If it looks steep and big on video, you know it’s far beyond that in real life, and this was abundantly clear as I stared up at the people and riders working on their lines above. With my media pass, I was able to get onto the hill and get close to the action.

The size of the gaps was unimaginable. Even with hundreds of people on the hill, you could hear a pin drop when someone yelled, “Rider!” as a competitor hit their line. For many of these riders, it was their first time attempting a section, and everyone collectively held their breath each time.

It wasn’t until I walked by the late Kelly McGarry and we made eye contact that I realized the weight of the event. “I’m just surviving,” he said when I asked how he was doing. The look in his eyes told me he was just getting through, and this was coming from someone who knew how to go big. That’s when I understood how heavy it all was.

Shortly after, I saw Tyler McCaul get pitched on a big step-down, and then an unknown rider crashed right in front of me with a loud cracking sound. I later learned he had broken his femur, so I can only assume that’s what I heard.

Parallels can be drawn between Rampage and other events I watch and seem okay with, like Red Bull Hardline. But that man-made gap jump in the last event (which was later abandoned) pushed things into Rampage territory for me, as do some of the massive jumps. It’s quite possible, and likely, that this event will cross that line for me someday too.

It’s the natural evolution of sports to get more extreme, just like it’s normal for people to realize how fragile and precious life and health really are as we get older. Perhaps I’m just aging out of extreme sports? Yet, for some reason, downhill mountain bike racing still feels completely enjoyable to watch. So do my other favorite sports, Supercross and motocross. These sports certainly have extreme risks, but something about them seems more manageable to me.

Words alone cannot express how much respect I have for the athletes who compete in Rampage. They don’t just have nerves of steel and unimaginable talent; they also have the drive to push the boundaries of riding to extraordinary levels. These riders are precise and calculated. It’s not like they’re just hucking themselves off a cliff and hoping for the best—they know exactly what they’re doing, what marks to hit, and the risks involved.

I’m not saying these athletes shouldn’t ride or that Red Bull shouldn’t put on the event. I fully support the freedom to ride and compete in whatever event you want and for people to spectate. Just like I make the choice to go riding on the days of the event instead of watching, hoping that everyone keeps it on two wheels.