There is one word that dominates every paddock today, from world rally practice to the pits of a national championship: hyperspecialization. Athletes “built” for a single act, engineers “calibrated” to a single regulation, careers thought of as tunnels. Yet every now and then, someone tries to open a side door. Kalle Rovanperä is one of them: WRC champion and, in between, drifting and track; now even an announced change of course to new challenges: in Super Formula in 2026 with the goal of F1.
If this sounds modern, almost “social” to you, it is worth remembering that in motorcycling there is a precedent that seems written especially for this discussion: Jean-Michel Bayle.

Jean-Michel Bayle and Kalle Rovanperä: the art of successful transformation

Bayle was not an “all-purpose talent” by any stretch of the imagination. He was 125 world motocross champion in 1988 and 250 in 1989, before crossing the Atlantic and signing a year that, to this day, in U.S. off-road racing is still recounted as a statistical anomaly: in 1991 he won AMA Supercross 250, AMA National 250 Motocross and AMA National 500 Motocross, becoming the only one to complete that trio in the same season.Here’s the thing: he wasn’t just “fast,” he was dominant. And when you dominate, you have two choices: defend the reign or challenge yourself.

Bayle chose the latter. He switched from the off-road to the track: in 1994 he raced in the 250 World Championship on an Aprilia and in 1996 he moved up to the 500 with the Kenny Roberts-Yamaha team. He didn’t win races in the MotoGP, but he took a whim (which is by no means a whim) to make pole positions and be credible in an environment where mistakes are unforgiving and experience is worth years.

And when some dismiss that move as a “whim,” it bears mentioning that in 2002 Bayle also won in the endurance world, winning Bol d’Or and 24 Hours of Le Mans motos (as a team), before injuries drove him into retirement.
In other words: not a weekend experiment, but a sporting identity project.

Rovanperä, in many ways, speaks the same language. He rewrote the WRC chronicles by becoming the youngest winner of a world rally (2021) and the youngest world champion (2022).
Then, in 2024, he deliberately chose a shortened schedule season to “recharge” and open up space for other experiences: drifting and track, including the Porsche Carrera Cup Benelux with wins at Imola and the Red Bull Ring.
On drifting, we’re not talking about a parking lot hobby: in Formula Drift Japan, in his debut, he won at Ebisu in a GR Corolla drift car prepared for the occasion; and the interesting thing is not just the result, but the naturalness with which he made “competitive” a discipline that thrives on judgment, spectacle and pinpoint precision.

The parallel between Bayle and Rovanperä is not “off-road versus rally,” that would be too easy. The real parallel is another: professional risk management.
Bayle left the terrain where he was king to go and learn a different alphabet, full of pitfalls (braking, trajectory, feeling on the front at circuit speeds).
Rovanperä, in the midst of his strength, chose not to be a prisoner of his own palmarès: he put time on his agenda to “move” skills from one context to another, and today Toyota itself openly tells of its intention to change challenges from 2026, with support toward track-based programs (Super Formula, reportedly).

In an era of hyperspecialization, is it still possible to do what Rovanperä is successfully attempting?

My answer is yes, but with a clause as big as an FIA regulation: it is possible only if the change of discipline is designed as an industrial project, not as a romantic getaway.

Today the average level is so high that improvisation lasts as long as a set of soft tires. However, it is also true that modern facilities offer tools that Bayle did not have: advanced simulators, “tailor-made” physical programs, data engineering, continuous mental coaching. This reduces adaptation time, not eliminates it. That is why I believe Rovanperä chose well: drifting and track are not “another planet,” they are neighboring planets. They change references and goals, but the basic vocabulary, grip management, load sensitivity, clean courage, is transferable.

Indeed, the great examples of the past say the same thing: polyvalence succeeds when the athlete brings with him or her a parent skill. John Surtees is the ultimate case in point: world champion on two wheels and then world champion in Formula 1, still the only one to succeed.
In rally-raid, Hubert Auriol won the Dakar in both motorcycles (1981, 1983) and cars (1992), crossing not only a different medium but a different philosophy of racing.
In recent times, Fernando Alonso is the epitome of the modern driver trying to broaden his career: Le Mans, WEC, Indy as the “Triple Crown” horizon, in an era where specialization is the norm.
And then there is Sébastien Loeb, who has proven for years that “variable grip” talent can be moved: from the WRC to Pikes Peak, to rally-raid, to rallycross, with results that are not folklore.

If I have to close with a stark opinion: hyperspecialization has not wiped out the “Bayle” and the “Rovanperä”; it has simply made them rarer and, above all, more aware. Today, polyvalence comes not from the instinct to change air, but from the lucidity of building a long career in a world that consumes champions quickly. Bayle did it before it became a narrative. Rovanperä is doing it while everyone is watching, with stopwatches in hand and social media ready to judge.

And perhaps that is the most interesting detail: in an age that wants you to be “just one thing,” true modernity is having the courage to be, still, a complete rider.