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As sports reporters we are constantly writing about and commenting on the efforts of others. Whether it's on the track, the football field or the boxing ring we experience the thrill and the danger of competition vicariously, from the comfort of the press box.

That's why, in a bid to walk the walk and not just talk the talk, we accepted the challenge of the Bermuda Karting Association to come and race at the Southside track.

And, within reason, we'll extend the same invitation to other sporting organizations. To challenge James and Don to try out your sport e-mail [email protected] or [email protected].

The series began on Sunday with a TAG Karting race at the Clearwater Motor Sports Park featuring Don, James and Mark Kennedy.

Kennedy took line honours, but as the Bermuda Sun's business reporter he has no control over the sports section, so we've conveniently omitted him.

Here's how it went down...

The Winner's Story

I felt sorry for James. I used peer pressure to get him to don a driver's suit and get behind the wheel, fully knowing that he drives slower than my grandma. But to make it interesting, I was boasting all week on how badly I was going to beat him and saying I'd lap James 'The Tortoise' Whittaker.

The suit I borrowed was a little snug on me. I'm not a big guy, but I had obviously eaten too much at the office Christmas party the night before.

What was even tighter was the driver's seat - I had to sort of wedge myself in so I didn't fall out on the course.

In the pre-race starting grid I got stuck behind James and while The Tortoise puttered out of the pits and onto the track the the other karts had already zipped by and were on the course. Once I got by James it was on to try and catch 'Macho' Mark Kennedy (The Sun's business reporter) who somehow had weasled his way into the deal to try and steal my thunder.

The first two laps were pretty much the same. Kennedy would roar away on the straights and I'd gain on him during the corners.

James? I wasn't even bothered by him at this point.

Going down the back straightaway on the second lap, I mashed my pedal to the floor and the kart made this awful grinding sound. I eased up only to see Mark slip away.

Around the bend and into the front straightaway, I pounded the pedal again only again to hear the grinding sound. I eased up, not wanting to ruin a $5,000+ vehicle that doesn't belong to me.

I spent the next few laps getting the angles down on the corners and opening it as much as possible on the straights with the goal of gunning down James before our 20 laps were up.

I could see the distance closing between the two of us when two of the other karts in the race flew by me. The indignity of it all!

It wasn't enough to finish fourth - I had to lap James. With two more turns around the track, James was in my sights. On the first turn of the back straightaway, The Tortoise took the corner wide and I cut inside, blowing by him.

The only goal I had left was to holding off 'Macho' Mark for that last lap.

He passed James for the second time, but didn't quite catch me before the chequered flag.

I punched the air to celebrate my mock victory and decided to take it slow back to the pits.

Would I do it again? In a heartbeat. I hadn't had that much fun in a while and I could see why the sport is addictive.

The Loser's Story

As someone who rarely takes his 50cc scooter above the 22mph speed limit, cautiously negotiating the island's twists and turns in constant fear of death, I had few expectations for Sunday's karting challenge.

Any time I interview the drivers or bike-racers that tear up the track down at Southside, they're always telling me how they've felt the 'need for speed' from an early age.

By contrast, I like to take it slow, saunter along at my own pace and take my sweet old time.

Unfortunately, that was the mentality I took into my 'race' with Don Burgess and Mark 'evil keneevil' Kennedy.

Arriving late, grubby and slightly hungover, I found Burgess already pacing the pits discussing tactics with the various drivers competing in the Bermuda Karting series.

The screech of the tyres, the smell of burning rubber and the sight of Scott 'Skitchy' Barnes and company burning down the straightaways at upwards of 80mph failed to instill the necessary confidence. Where was the black rum when you needed it most?

It took just a few minutes behind the wheel to realize I was destined to come dead last, possibly in a record slow time.

I crawled out of the pits, edging towards the first corner, barely troubling the gas pedal before I'd hit the brake again at the first sign of trouble.

It was about halfway through the race before I found the confidence to push the pedal to the metal and test out the capacity of the TAG kart.

By this time any prospect of a respectable place in the race was a forlorn hope.

I doubt the speedo needle ever troubled 50mph, but in the cockpit of a kart, barely inches above the concrete blur of the track, with the vibrations of the engine humming through its tiny frame, it felt pretty fast to me.

I was almost beginning to enjoy it when the chequered flag was raised and I headed back to the pits to face the gloating of Burgess and Kennedy.

The karting crew was very kind about my performance.

"You looked very professional - with the suit and the long hair, you look like Scott Speed," said … one guy. He didn't say anything about the driving.

Fair enough.[[In-content Ad]]

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