One year. Simoncelli.

Marco. 

This weekend's Malaysian Grand Prix marks one year since he left us.

He wasn't just some guy racing a motorcycle, he was my hero.

I would be jumping out of my chair, screaming insults at his competition and cheers for his heroic capers. 

I punched a roof when he went around the outside of Pedrosa. 

I was shaking total strangers in the pub when he clinched second at Phillip Island. 

He made me love GP racing post 2-strokes, just like, or even more so than Rossi.

He belonged in another another era, that of the late 80's/early 90's 500GP, where bashing fairings, sideways antics and giant balls meant more than some silly invention called traction control. 

The sport is truly not the same without him. 

It lost a 250GP world champion. 

It lost the nicest guy in paddock, who had time for everyone, from press to his adoring fans. 

It lost a future MotoGP champion, and arguably, it's future savior.

I do not even have a hint of embarrassment in saying this.

I loved Marco.

 And I'm still absolutely gutted he is gone. 

Forza Super Sic. 

RIP 58.
His number will always be front and center on my helmet.