Cheating in sport began the moment one competitor realised that he could beat his opponent by exploiting a loophole in the rules. It has continued ever since with more and more creative ways being found to do this while sporting legislators have continued to plug the holes as and when they have become apparent.
In some instances the cheating has been more blatant and, at the other end of the spectrum, it has been so minor as to have been excused as a mere “bending of the rules” Nevertheless, we are not so accepting of cheating even today as to not be shocked and annoyed when high profile instances of it are brought to light.
In the wider sense, few of us were surprised when Lance Armstrong finally admitted what all of us had known for many years, that he had been cheating by taking banned, performance-enhancing substances. The world of professional cycling has since been found to be a hotbed of cheating, and not just amongst the riders but the engineers as well. Recent revelations about the use of tiny electric motors, concealed within bicycle frames, to assist riders, especially while they are climbing, shows the areas that are still being explored to get around the rules. Womens’ tennis is presently reeling under the allegations of drug taking by its top names and so the story continues.
In motorsports the opportunities to cheat are endless. As in other areas, the cheats run ahead of the legislators who hurry along behind, trying to catch up. In the 1960’s the early days of stock car racing in the USA (which would later become NASCAR) cheating was almost institutionalised. After all, stockcar racing was a direct outgrowth of the good ole boys finding creative ways of modifying their cars so that could transport large volumes of moonshine and other contraband substances around without being discovered by the “revenuers.” King of the early creative interpreters of the rules in the nascent sport was Henry “Smokey” Yunick. In his day, nobody could find ways around the rules better than Smokey. Here’s a quote from Wikipedia.
“Another Yunick improvisation was getting around the regulations specifying a maximum size for the fuel tank, by using 11-foot (3 meter) coils of 2-inch (5-centimeter) diameter tubing for the fuel line to add about 5 gallons (19 liters) to the car’s fuel capacity. Once, NASCAR officials came up with a list of nine items for Yunick to fix before the car would be allowed on the track. The suspicious NASCAR officials had removed the tank for inspection. Yunick started the car with no gas tank and said “Better make it ten,” and drove it back to the pits. He had used a basketball in the fuel tank which could be inflated when the car’s fuel capacity was checked and deflated for the race.”
More recently there was the again high profile disqualification of the Toyota World Rally Championship team in 1995 for a sophisticated but blatant breaking of the rules concerning the design and use of the turbochargers on the “works” Celicas. Not only was the team scrubbed from the 1995 results but were banned from competing for another 12 months as a result of their actions.
In motorcycle racing cheating is a little more difficult. After all, a bike is small and basic in design and execution and it’s pretty easy to spot if something has been messed with. Or, at least, that’s what you’d think. Lifers with long memories or a good knowledge of their history will know that the whole history of Production bike racing and especially the Castrol Six Hour Race was one that was played out on the track AND in the scrutineering tent where Chief Scrutineer, the late Chris Peckham, attempted to ensure that the bikes that raced in the prestigious race WERE, in fact, strictly stock standard. Because of his efforts and those of his scrutineering team it’s pretty fair to say that what creative interpretations of the rules that DID take place (and they did) were mostly minor and never affected the overall results of the race nor its reputation for providing a level playing field for both the riders and the entrants who entered their bikes.
But cheating DID take place. The most famous example was the 1972 race where Joe Eastmure, riding a tiny 315cc Suzuki two stroke twin, crossed the finish line first ahead of the “big” Japanese and British bikes to the delight of the partisan crowd who loved nothing better than to see a good little ‘un beat a whole lot of good big ‘uns. Joy for the Hazell and Moore team and Eastmure, who had ridden the whole race solo, turned to despair when it was found in post-race scrutineering that the bike had run the race without a horn and hence was in breach of the strictly stock regulations. It was given out that the horn had been removed to aid cooling of the two cylinder engine and that, as such the actions had conferred an unfair advantage for Eastmure’s bike.
Joe and the bike were disqualified, and the incident went down in Six Hour history. Much later, when I was interviewing Joe for a story on his win in the 1977 race, I found out the real truth of the matter. The engine of the Suzuki had been bored out (as one did to two stroke engines on a regular basis) and had been overbored further than what the regulations allowed. Joe started the race knowing that disqualification was a probability but did so as a means of showing the world what a great bike the 315 was. He didn’t expect to win so he wasn’t that concerned, but, having actually won the race, he and H&M took it on the chin and allowed the “horn” story to be unrefuted. Incidentally, Joe now lives in Qld and still owns the very bike that caused the controversy nearly 50 years ago!
Other “wheezes” that were used by entrants was to fill the footpeg rubbers with 5 cent coins and then refit them to the bike for scrutineering. Most bikes had non-foldable footpegs and they wore down to practically nothing during the race thus giving the bikes better ground clearance. The trick was to replace the rubbers worn down during practice and qualifying with new ones for race day. IF you could get away with it (few did once Peckham became aware of it), you could start the race with the “dummy” footpeg rubbers which would quickly wear away, scatter the coins inside around the track and almost instantly have a huge ground clearance advantage over fellow competitors who didn’t know the trick.
To this day my good mate Rory Macdonald swears that the Honda 900 which Tony Hatton used to win the Production race at Bathurst in 1979 had an engine filled with non-standard, Honda racing parts. Hatton famously won the race that year, beating Gary Thomas on a Kawasaki 1300, in the process staging one of the most brutal arm-wrestles in Bathurst memory. I won’t comment either way except to say that the 900 WAS pretty quick down Conrod Straight.
Other examples fall well into the area of cheating and right outside the area of “creative interpretation of the rules”. A well known 250cc and 350cc competitor in the late 1970’s regularly turned up at meetings on an indecently fast 250. Many suspected some wheeze or other but the bike DID have the expected “247cc”stamped on the barrel. It was only later it transpired that the competitor had had an engineer grind down the 347cc stamp on a set of 350 barrels and re-stamp it with a 247cc one then fit those barrels to his 250cc bike.
At the Six Hour one year one of the Yamaha dealers had a display in the pits of some current Yamaha road bikes. Wandering through the pits late on Saturday afternoon we spied two competitors who were racing a Yamaha RD400 in the race the following day, walk up to the display, step over the rope and proceed to “souvenir” the gear lever off the RD400 that was on display. I’m pleased to say that their bike was one of the first bikes to retire from the race the following morning, another example of being there to see karma work its magic. I also need to note that that the two instances noted above were the ONLY ones that I ever witnessed where dishonesty was discovered.
Rather than finish on a sour note, I well recall an instance at a C Grade day at Oran Park where, Paul and I returned to the pits very late in the afternoon after photographing on the track for the day. The pits were all but deserted except for one Holden ute with a racing bike on a trailer. As we approached, the driver got out and hailed us. “Hey,” he called, do you own this?” and he held up a telephoto lens. We both checked our bags and Paul said, “Yeah, that’s mine, where did you find it?” “It’s been sitting on the mudguard of my trailer all day,” was the reply, “We were hoping someone would come back and claim it.” As it turned out, he and his girlfriend had been waiting well over half an hour in case the owner of the lens returned. Faith in human nature AND in fellow motorcyclists restored.