During the night, Marco Guidetti left us, one of the historic World Grand Prix Motorcycle Racing photographers. Marco had followed in his father’s footsteps, combining his passion for photography with that of speed and riders.
From a very young age, he was a constant presence at every Grand Prix, armed with his ambitions, but more than anything, with his smile. Marco was part of that big family that travels the world, circuit by circuit, and there wasn’t a rider or team member who did not know him or with whom he had not become friends.
For GPOne he was, above all else, a friend – someone with whom we joked, teased and shared trips, hotel rooms and cheerful dinners – besides being a valued co-worker.
Right now, our entire staff is here for Marco’s family, offering our most heartfelt condolences.
At 12:00 today, a moment of silence was observed in the media centre.
Marco, what the hell kind of joke did you play on us this morning? It’s not like I know what to write now. So I’ll write what you have been for me all these years: a friend. A friend with whom I shared, not thirty-five years of life, but thirty-five years of paddock, of circuits, of hotel rooms, of airports in this world motorcycle racing championship that is our home.
How many times did we say it to one another: the paddock, home.
I do not even remember the first time we met, but it was in the late ‘70s on the Motosprint editorial staff when you would come with your father, Vinicio. One of our first photographers.
At the time we had two: Franco Villani and Vinicio Guidetti. I smile as I recall their light-hearted squabbles to get their photographs published.
Looking at tonnes of slides through the loop along with Alberto Sabbatini.
But those were just the early days. The days when Alberto, who later became director of Autosprint, would say about the photographers: the flag is out, fingers up: the job is done.
It had not been like that for several years. No more rolls of film, just thousands of photographs to download to the computer and edit and file away one by one.
Hard work that kept you busy late into the evening, as it does all your colleagues.
The Mac, the Canons. More recently the switch to Nikon, about which you were so enthusiastic.
We would inevitably tease you: Marco, we know your secret – the camera does everything for you.
My most vivid memory? Australia, obviously: for many years, we rented the same house and, now I will confess, it was not because you were at the stove preparing the pasta carbonara.
“It’s no good, because they don’t have the right ingredients here!”
Yeaaah… but we devoured it anyway.
A beer, two beers. The Blue Moon in Texas, an appointment we could not miss along with Matteo, with whom you had texted as recently as a week ago.
“I won’t be in Brno. I need to have some tests done.”
And then the news this morning, as soon as we arrived in the paddock, because it is a little city where everyone knows everyone else. An extended family.
With everything that happened this year, I supposed they must have needed a photographer up there.