Rage Against Rampage

As I watch this year’s Red Bull Rampage, I’m on the sofa under a blanket, clutching it like I’m watching the latest horror movie. Brendan Semenuk has just finished his first (and winning) run. The crowd are going wild and so are the commentators. Mute the TV and it’s a different story; Brendan’s finishing face is an expressive mixed with fear and relief. He looks like he has just survived a car crash and can’t quite believe it. He was tentative at the top of his second run too, and later decided it wasn’t worth going again. He has always been open about how scary the event is, and this is the winning guy.

Rampage has become an annual spectacle, whatched by millions of people worldwide, many of which aren’t downhill riders, and may not even be cyclists at all for that matter, but they stick glued to the screens nonetheless, and search for highlights, reports and epic photos for days to come after the event. All this promotes Red Bull as a dare devil brand with an absolutely inspiring event, but it comes at a price. A human cost. And what about the cost to the sport itself?

Safety First…?

For 2016, Rampage continued to be held on the seemingly impossible cliffs of Utah, but this year the ‘woodwork’ was removed. Many worried that taking out large wooden jumps and constructions would hamper the progression of the event, or even make it too ‘tame’ to be exciting. With the first ever double back-flip being performed by Antoine Bizet, it was clear that progression was not hampered, but unfortunately, fellow Kona team mate, Graham ‘Aggy’ Agassiz clipped the landing of a large jump and went down hard, proving the event definitely wasn’t tamed down either. Three days later Kona says “We haven’t had a full report of his condition but we are hoping for the best”, and no-one else, not even Red Bull have said anything more. [update: Aggy confirmed he has broken his pelvis and thanks the medical team for going above and beyond to help him.]

This is scarily reminiscent of 2015’s Rampage when Paul Basagoitia, the two-time Crankworx Whistler slopestyle winner, hit the deck and was carted off in a helicopter with little word on what had happened. It later transpired that he had shattered his T12 vertebrae and couldn’t feel his legs. A year later, Paul had spent six hours a day, for months, training, just to be able to stand up, and has only just started to walk with a cane. He came to watch the event this year, but it all seemed too emotional for him, and he left before the day of the race. No comments about Rampage 2016 have been added to his Recovery Blog at this time, but I feel for him. It must have been like returning to the scene of a horrific accident. There’s no doubt in my mind that those athletes would take risks like that outside of Rampage, but at least they get to perform in their own time rather than against the clock, and they are personally rewarded for their efforts afterwards, not Red Bull, and we may even get to see a full story of the rider’s struggle, from building to riding, and not just 20 riders banging out runs and being scored for it.

Damned If you do, Damned If you don’t

Paul was in his first year of sponsorship with Scott Sports, and luckily they’ve decided to stick by him throughout his recovery, but that’s not the norm. Factor in the fact that many insurance companies were refusing to insure riders for Rampage and sponsors were not helping to plan for injuries, even though Rampage was part of the riders’ job, and you wonder why the bother at all. Red Bull offer no event insurance or support either, but in truth, they can’t offer liability for courses that the rider builds, and the choices that they themselves make, so riders must sign an indemnity releasing Red Bull of liability. This is quite normal for an extreme event, to put the responsibility with the attendee, but usually events control the environment and risk asses the course to death. Rampage is built on terrain that is uncontrollable, unforgiving, and cannot be shaped in a safe manner, with inches to spare for error. Features are so big that the riders don’t even practice most of it; it’s all-or-nothing on the day. Something is surely wrong when even practicing is too risky, right?

Many publications have raised an eyebrow to the event, knowing more than the glamourously edited highlights fed to us non-attending folk. PinkBike writer, Mitchell Scott, wrote about the “catch-22” situation way back in 2013, where athletes “have to ride at Red Bull Rampage”, but no-one listened until things got serious with Paul’s paralysing crash, and VitalMTB, caused a stir asking Red Bull what they were going to do about it. And it’s a darn valid question. No one was brave enough to question them, probably through fear of losing an incredible event, but questions needed raising. Without them, I doubt Red Bull would be supporting Paul to this day, and I wonder if Red Bull are showing human compassion or simply damage limitation for the brand. Good riders are risking their careers, and a whole lot more, and who’s responsible for that? Just the rider? Brandon Semenuk dismounted his bike to safety before it fell off the edge of a 100-foot drop; if he had gone with it, what then? These are not stunt men with safety nets, these are real people, and I think Red Bull should take responsibility of that.

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