First summer for the young media outlet Dernier Relais, and already, adjustments and developments. Some have noticed there have been no articles these past two weeks. The reason is simple: Dernier Relais takes its time, gladly calls itself a slow media, and makes choices that require time.

And that’s how dernier-relais.com was born. Substack aficionados will still be able to find our articles on that platform, but it’s on our website that our young yet ambitious project will develop. New formats are being considered, and it was also important, because we are followed by readers on both sides of the Channel, to have an English version of the site.

The English version of the site is also a gesture of appreciation towards Leodhais, Noé, Karen, and Cindy, who trusted Dernier Relais to retrace their journeys, and whose stories we can now share with a wider audience.

Once that’s said, it’s time to talk sport again. And this time, no question of slowness.

Imagine a mountain. You think skiing? Hiking? Cycling uphill? Okay. He thinks about the road, the asphalt. His goal? To go down as fast as possible. How? On a skateboard. At what speed? More than a hundred kilometres per hour.

Is Antoine Carlotti, 2025 French longboard champion, taking risks? Absolutely. But don’t reduce his sport to that, because there’s a lot more to say.

Dernier Relais: Hi Antoine, thanks for the interview! I won’t lie to you, longboarding is not one of the sports I know best…

Antoine Carlotti: Haha… Yeah, it’s a bit niche!

D.R.: A bit niche and… scary? When I watch your videos, I instinctively tense up, thinking “this guy is completely crazy!”

A.C.: Yeah, yeah, I know, and it’s important to talk about that because of the image it gives. I love extreme sports, I love watching them, but I think it’s a shame they’re often presented as something inaccessible, meaning they’re only talked about through the lens of risk-taking, when there’s actually something deeper and more complete behind them.

D.R.: I’d like to clear up an old belief I had, since we’re talking about preconceived notions: I long thought your sport was an illegal activity…

A.C.: Oh, you know, that’s pretty much the case! Apart from competitions where everything is regulated, declared, and legal, there’s little legislation in general, even if it varies depending on the country. Let’s say we’re tolerated most of the time because we operate in a kind of grey area where the police will tell us to leave, and that’s usually the end of it. That’s generally how it happens in France, or in the French-speaking part of Switzerland. In the German-speaking part though, they hand out heavy fines!

D.R.: You grew up in the Paris region, which isn’t known for its mountains and slopes. How did you end up in longboarding?

A.C.: My parents were always very sporty, so with my brother, under their influence, we tried all the so-called “classic” sports, and I even competed in trials cycling. My brother, meanwhile, did a lot of rollerblading in skateparks. He taught me a lot, and I quickly developed a taste, when we went on holidays, for board and glide sports: skateboard, wakeboard, etc.

Then at one point came the Penny Board craze—you know, the small plastic skateboards? Decathlon made them. It was a time in France when trends followed one another. The Penny Board, then the scooter, etc. Except I got hooked on the Penny Board, I loved the feeling. So I started watching videos online, and soon I came across videos of longboarding and downhill. I was fascinated, and needless to say when I showed the images to my parents, they weren’t exactly reassured. They told me it could be dangerous, especially in the city, but one day they still gave me longboard wheels, which I mounted on the Penny to get closer to the sliding sensations you have on a longboard. And since in the Paris region there aren’t many hills, I would go into underground parking lots—I loved it.

Then one day, when we were in the countryside, my parents caught me sending it as hard as I could down a hill, and that’s when they realised it was too late!

D.R.: Did you practice alone?

A.C.: Yeah, quite a lot. I watched videos, I trained, and I didn’t just do downhill but also, and especially, lots of tricks. I loved it; I was in my own world.

D.R.: Is downhill a sport in its own right?

A.C.: No, downhill is divided into two categories: downhill, which is probably the best-known, where the goal is to be the first to reach the bottom, and freeride, which includes tricks called slides. Then there’s a race called No Paws Down, which combines both racing and tricks. That was my dream race.

D.R.: A race you won?

A.C.: Yes, I took part in that incredible race eight times and was lucky enough to win it once. It was pretty crazy.

D.R.: You also practiced dancing, right?

A.C.: Exactly, and it was especially through that that I met a lot of people in the scene. Paris was the birthplace of dancing, and we used to meet on the banks of the Seine. It opened up a whole world to me: I met people, discovered that there were downhill competitions, etc.

D.R.: Who oversees these competitions?

A.C.: In France we’re among the luckiest in the world, because we have a very active federation—not a downhill skate federation, but the FFRS (French Roller Sports Federation), which encompasses many bigger sports, including street skateboarding, now an Olympic sport, as well as roller derby and many others. The FFRS then oversees more local associations, each of which will organise one or two events, meaning we have about ten events a year in France, which is pretty amazing and shows real dynamism. The United States may have 8 to 10 times more riders, but they don’t have more events.

D.R.: How does this French dynamism translate in terms of global level?

A.C.: The level at French competitions is very, very high—probably where the best riders in the world are. There’s a guy, Adrien Peynel, American with French origins. He lives in San Diego, but because the French federation is better structured and more dynamic, he takes part in French competitions. This year he dominated everything, except for two races I won. I was really happy to beat him at the French championships—he’s such a reference!

D.R.: So how exactly do competitions work?

A.C.: First, we start with qualifications. It’s heavily inspired by Formula 1, with the Q1, Q2, Q3 system, each round eliminating the slowest. In this scene we’re all kind of Formula 1 fans, and since we don’t have money, we replaced cars with skateboards (laughs): same qualifying system, same focus on finding the best racing lines and aerodynamics… except we don’t have engines.

D.R.: And when it comes to the race, you all start at the same time?

A.C.: Exactly. In qualifying, you focus on your lines and being as fast as possible to get into the final. But during the race, strategy plays a huge role. The state of the road, the quality of your start (my weak point), how you position yourself—all of this has a huge impact. For example, recently we were in Austria for a world championship stage. There, a few corners led into a long straight that lasted about a minute. We were going around 115 km/h, and at that speed the draft is massive, so it’s simple: if you think you can come out of the last corner in front and enter the straight first, you can be sure you’ll get overtaken by everyone.

D.R.: Do you really feel the draft strongly?

A.C.: Yes, it’s really powerful—and you can hear it too! And the more riders ahead of you, the stronger it is. It creates pretty crazy situations, which I love, where you have to be hyper strategic and think “okay, I can go faster, but I shouldn’t be in front coming out of that corner”—and the others are thinking the same! So sometimes it gets pretty funny, with everyone trying to let the others pass.

D.R.: I guess contact is forbidden?

A.C.: Yeah, we’re not allowed, though sometimes small contacts are tolerated when it wouldn’t make sense to disqualify someone. But sometimes… In Austria, the track really lent itself to contact, and I had trouble because of that long straight I mentioned. We’d arrive at 115 km/h, all packed together to stay in the draft, and at the bottom there was a sharp corner, big braking, and the finish line 10 metres later! How do you expect there to be no contact? It’s your last chance to pass—of course there’s a risk. I’m still a bit frustrated, but what reassures me is that even the community was on my side; my disqualification may have been a bit harsh.

D.R.: I wanted to talk about income. Extreme sports often mean Red Bull, and we know they invest millions in sponsorship, events, etc. Thanks to Red Bull, some athletes make a living from their sport. What about longboarding today?

A.C.: You’re asking at the right time, because even though Red Bull had already done some things with the community, they had never sponsored a longboarder—until recently. They’ve just signed Diego Poncelet, double world champion, two months ago. I think he’s one of the only ones, maybe the only one, in our sport who manages to make a living from it. As for me, like others, I have a job on the side—I’m a graphic designer and 3D designer freelancer. Sometimes I work with skate brands, so the two worlds overlap, but financially, if I look at it logically, continuing my sport makes no sense: I take risks and lose a lot of money! But it’s my passion.

D.R.: Besides travel expenses, do you have equipment costs?

A.C.: I’m lucky to work with brands that cover the equipment, but that’s not the main expense. The big, big cost is wheels. Like in Formula 1, we wear them out fast! For example, on open roads outside competitions, depending on road condition and the speed we slide, a set can last me a month… or three days.

In competition, we always use new wheels to perform better and get more grip thanks to what’s called the “glaze”—that shiny layer on top of the wheel when it comes out of the mould. A fresh glaze gives much more grip, letting you hold your lines better, and it’s worth about three seconds on a two-minute run. That’s not negligible.

D.R.: So it’s impossible to win without several sets of wheels?

A.C.: Yes—even if you’re a skilled amateur, without the advantage of new wheels (and training with them), it’s hard. And it’s expensive. For a competition, I bring 8 to 10 sets, at 130 euros each—that’s about 1,000 euros just in wheels for a weekend.

D.R.: And your outfit, what’s it made of?

A.C.: We have the leather suit, very effective against burns, the helmet, back protection, and of course gloves.

D.R.: The risk of accidents is high in your sport. What’s your relationship with danger?

A.C.: I’ve been lucky—11 years without serious injuries, just a few burns. Never broken anything. The real danger is when we train on open roads. I’m not talking about competitions where everything’s closed to traffic, but those training sessions where a vehicle can come from the opposite direction.

To avoid accidents, we use a lead car that goes down ahead of us and constantly communicates by walkie-talkie, saying “Ok, ok, ok, ok”—and if it stops or the signal’s lost, we stay far right to be safe. At our level we can control speed and reposition quickly. But as long as I hear “Ok,” I know I can attack!

D.R.: Never any problems with drivers?

A.C.: Once, in the city—a guy behind me, maybe because he didn’t know what I was doing, got annoyed and tried to overtake dangerously. I jumped onto the pavement to avoid him, but he still swerved at me. I’m not sure people realise they can kill with that kind of aggression. But in the mountains, no—people are more used to board sports and less stressed!

D.R.: Any more competitions coming up?

A.C.: Most are behind me—the last was two weeks ago. There’s still part of the world championship in the US and El Salvador in December, but we’ll see financially if I go. From May to early July, I didn’t stop—I did six or seven races. It was a real privilege.

D.R.: How do you feel physically after a race? Beyond concentration, does your sport require physical strength?

A.C.: It depends a lot on the track. Some courses are safe so I only focus on racing. For example, last year’s French championship wasn’t very fast—70 km/h, slow hairpins, no dangerous corners—so I was focused but not exhausted. But in Turkey a few weeks ago, I was hitting over 110 km/h, with very fast curves taken at 80 km/h, and it was a long track—hard on the legs. In an aerodynamic tuck, I can’t hold for more than three minutes without risking my legs starting to shake, to cramp, and making me unstable. That’s what we call wobble. When that starts, it gets scary—your board starts swaying violently until you crash.

D.R.: And mentally, do you prepare in a specific way?

A.C.: That’s something I’ve improved a lot. Before, I didn’t think much about it—I just enjoyed training. But it took me a while to ask how I could get better. I have a mental coach, Anaïs Grillon, who’s helped a lot. Through more analysis of my runs, especially with video and visual markers on the road, I’ve worked on braking zones, ideal lines, etc. It’s helped me understand where I can push more and improve overall.

D.R.: Anything else your mental coach helps with?

A.C.: Stress management. A race weekend brings massive pressure—time, money, energy invested—and after a two-minute run, it can end in joy or huge disappointment. So Anaïs helps me create routines and reassuring processes.

D.R.: Earlier you compared your sport to F1 with wheels, aerodynamics, etc. Can you adjust board settings like in motorsport?

A.C.: Yes. We don’t often change wheelbase, though it’s possible, but we do choose wheels with softer or harder urethane for more or less grip and speed. We also adjust truck angles—the parts connecting wheels to the board—so the front turns more easily and the back less, like in a car. You can even add weight to the board for more stability.

D.R.: Anything you’d like to mention that I haven’t asked about?

A.C.: The community! Even though it’s a niche sport, we’re everywhere in the world and very close-knit. At races you see the same 20–60 people; we all know each other, we’re friends. We travel together, struggle together with camp stoves and tents, laugh—and the next day, we battle it out on the track. It’s an amazing community. I’ve been to Colombia, Australia… Anywhere I go, one message online and I’ll find someone who knows someone who can host me.

D.R.: You must know a lot of countries now!

A.C.: Yes, but not the tourist spots! When I say I’ve been to Romania, Slovenia, or the Czech Republic, people ask “Oh yeah, where?”—and when I say the town, nobody knows it, sometimes not even the locals! It’s a different kind of tourism, and I like it.

D.R.: When’s the “Drive to Survive” (Netflix F1 documentary) longboard version coming?

A.C.: That’s our dream! Maybe one day. Our sport looks great on screen, and the rules are simple: first to the bottom wins! If any reader of this article has Netflix or TV contacts, let us know!