James Toseland’s ascent to the pinnacle of competitive motorcycling has been breathtaking — he recently won his second Superbike World Championship title and is tipped to become the first British world champion in MotoGP since Barry Sheene in 1977. The 27-year-old has charisma, charm, pop idol looks, talent and millions of pounds in his Isle of Man bank account. Not bad for a kid who spent the first three years of his life in a caravan in an impoverished part of Doncaster.

If that were not enough, Toseland is also an accomplished pianist, wowing the audience at the BBC Sports Personality of the Year show last Sunday with his funky rendition of a tune specially written for the occasion. His band, mischievously called Crash, play a number of gigs each year and have received rave reviews. Little wonder his handlers have become accustomed to receiving suggestive messages and skimpy knickers from women eager to meet the hot young rider with the matinee grin and musical fingers.

Toseland’s rags-to-riches story has the kind of ingredients that Hollywood would recognise. But beneath the glamour and glitz is a very different story. A story that many of Toseland’s most avid fans have not yet heard. A story that Toseland has yet to come to terms with. A story scarred with guilt, heartache and incalculable trauma.

It is the autumn of 1988 and Toseland, 8, is half-asleep in his bedroom in a council house in Sheffield. He has not lived with his father, who left the family about the same time they moved out of the caravan, for five years. He is a rather shy boy with large, round glasses and a reputation for thoughtfulness and sensitivity.

Suddenly, he hears someone striking up on the downstairs piano. He is perplexed because he is the only person in the house who knows how to play. He tiptoes down the stairs, opens the door of the living-room and comes face to face with a moustachioed, middle-aged man banging out the funkiest, hippest and snazziest tunes he has ever heard. Smiling from ear to ear, Toseland introduces himself to the man who will first transform and then shatter his world.

“Ken [Wright] was more than a father figure, he was a role model and mentor,” Toseland says. “He was a huge bike fanatic and I remember on that first night he had a Yamaha parked outside. Mum had met him in the pub and had been reluctant to bring him home, even though they’d been together for a bit.

“He fascinated me not only because he made Mum happy, but also because of the way he talked so passionately about music and motorbikes. He bought me a motorbike for Christmas and I got hooked. It was like he was opening up whole new worlds for me. At school, I was no longer the geeky kid with the piano but the cool kid with the motorbike.”

Toseland began to enter junior competitions. He and Wright would travel together with Queen blaring out of the speakers and both men rocking their heads to the beat, getting progressively more psyched up about the impending race.

Wright would talk to Toseland to reassure him before races, pat him on the back after a victory and commiserate after defeat. They were becoming inseparable, but over time a more disturbing aspect intruded upon the seemingly blissful family dynamic.

“Although they tried to shield me from it, it became obvious that Ken and Mum were rowing a lot,” Toseland says. “You would be in bed with a pillow over your head, but you could still hear them going at each other and saying some pretty horrible things.

“It got to the stage where Mum would leave the house and stay at Gran’s, who lived near by. Simon [Toseland's older brother] would go with her, but I would always stay with Ken.

“Ken would use me as a bargaining chip to get Mum to come back. She knew how excited I was about my racing and that Ken was the person who made it possible, so she would agree. It became a kind of routine: Mum would split up with Ken and then come back to him because of me, and then split up again.”

Toseland, by now in adolescence, could see that his mother was falling apart under the strain of trying to sustain the destructive relationship with Wright — she lost weight and began to suffer bouts of severe depression. But Toseland also craved the thrill of biking and the companionship with the man he idolised. The emotional tension was pulling both the teenager and his family to pieces.

“Mum dropped to seven stone and became really ill,” Toseland says. “I only found out later that Ken suffered with schizophrenia and that this was causing his mood swings towards Mum. After another huge row, Mum left again and I could see that things had gone too far. I decided that I would not allow myself to be used by Ken to get her back so, for the first time, I went with her to Gran’s. When Ken tried to persuade me to go racing with him, I said no.”

It was a brave and principled decision from the cruelly conflicted 15-year-old, but to the man who had fathered him it must have felt like a betrayal. A few months later, Wright walked into the garage of the new council house into which Toseland had moved with his mother and brother. He closed the door, started the ignition of the car and killed himself with the exhaust fumes. Toseland, who was visiting his grandmother at the time, was told the news by his mother. His life would never be the same again.

It is October 3, 2004, and Toseland has just become the youngest Superbike world champion after a dramatic showdown at Magny-Cours with Regis Laconi, his team-mate and bitter rival. It is a spectacular achievement for the 23-year-old, which has catapulted him towards unimaginable fame and riches. His triumphant team get together for a rollicking party.

It ought to be the happiest moment of Toseland’s young life, but after half an hour he excuses himself and walks slowly to his dressing-room. He sits down, puts his head in his hands and sobs for longer than he can remember.

“I just could not stop myself thinking how much I would have liked Ken to have been there to see it,” he says. “I was feeling the adrenalin rush of victory, but it felt wrong without being able to share it with the person who made it possible. It was like there was something missing.

“For a long time after his death, I was mixed up. I was devastated that he had been taken away and I was also angry with Ken that he had taken the coward’s way out of suicide. It felt as if I had been robbed. My family has never been emotional, so I kept a lot of it bottled inside, although the piano and motorcycling helped me to let out some of my feelings.

“Things were made even worse when my grandpa, who I was incredibly close to, died of a heart attack six months later.”

Have you received any counselling to help you come to terms with what happened? “No, I haven’t talked about it,” he said. “I haven’t even sat down and talked to my Mum about it. The last thing I want to do is talk to her and drag all the hurt to the surface. Looking back, and from the little things that are said, I know that Mum’s relationship with Ken was even worse than I was allowed to see. Given what happened, it is obvious that Ken had big problems and needed help. It is a tragedy he didn’t get it.”

How has your mother coped with the aftermath? “At the time she was very ill, but she has come through it and is very happy now,” he said. “I introduced her to her new boyfriend about a year ago. I knew Steve through his daughter, who I used to go out with. He is a really nice guy who was married for 27 years before his wife ran off with a younger man. I invited him to my brother’s wedding hoping that things might spark with Mum and I could see they were getting on pretty well.

“A week later, I rang Mum to see if she fancied dinner with me and she said: “I’d love to.” Then I phoned Steve and asked if he fancied dinner with me and he said: “I’d love to.” When they turned up, I wasn’t there. They fell in love that night and the next morning my Mum was like the cat that got the cream. I am normally very protective of her, but Steve ticked all the right boxes.”

Toseland’s present thoughts are on his assault on the MotoGP title with Yamaha, which will commence in Doha in March. His self-belief is palpable, his fear of serious injury wholly engulfed by his intoxication with the life he leads as a multimillion-pound sports star. An engaging, charming and untainted young man, he will carry the support of thousands of his countrymen. But however fast he rides, will he ever escape the memories of his tragic past?

Riding high

— Born on October 5, 1980

— Joined world Superbikes as understudy to Neil Hodgson in 2001

— Became youngest Superbike world champion in 2004 with the Ducati team

— Won second Superbike World Championship with Ten Cate Honda this year

— Fourth place in the BBC Sports Personality of the Year awards last week, 700 votes behind Ricky Hatton, in third

— Will make first assault on the elite MotoGP world title with Yamaha next year

— Plays piano and performs vocals for Crash, the rock band he formed with friends

— Based in the Isle of Man for tax reasons, he has a nine-foot Steinway piano in his music room

Explore More Sport

• Cycling

• Athletics

• Sailing

• US Sport