Ricky Carmichael

Ricky Carmichael grew up studying the stars of the ’90s: McGrath’s Nac Nacs, Emig’s style and the Moto Rat Pack partying at Reche Canyon. He wanted the factory life, too. But even as a kid, Ricky understood that the racetrack wasn’t a playground. He was there to win.

After three straight 125 outdoor championships, RC entered the premier class expecting more of the same. Instead, 1999 beat the hell out of him. He crashed, got hurt and learned that raw speed wasn’t enough against the King of Supercross. At the U.S. Open, Emig delivered one final lesson from the old era.

By 2000, Carmichael had reset the bar. He just wanted to finish races without crashing. Then came Daytona. Ricky led with McGrath locked onto his rear wheel, pushing until both riders were cooked. On lap 13-and-a-half, the sound of Jeremy’s bike suddenly disappeared. Ricky had broken him. He could barely lift one hand at the finish, but he had his first premier-class Supercross victory, and proof that the throne could be taken. From there, his confidence began to rise.

That win changed his entire program. Ricky dropped 25 pounds, rebuilt his diet and trained harder than ever. The ’90s heroes had made the sport faster, cooler and bigger. RC arrived to make it relentlessly professional.

The party didn’t slowly fade away. Ricky Carmichael trained it into extinction.