Handicapping

I am not really very good at this blogging thing. A marketing person told me earlier this year that I need to be posting on social media every day, and that if I want to attract followers to my blog, then I need to write something new and interesting at least once a week. Apart from the fact that I find the expression “you need to” a rather objectionable one, I am also not so sure that social media is exactly where I want “my profile” to be.

I have also maintained that what I “need” to do is to provide for myself and my family, and as writing blog posts earns me no money, then it is consequently somewhat lower down my list of priorities. However, I do enjoy sharing some of my thoughts and insights on this platform, and equally I have enjoyed reading some of your comments on the subject of my exploits over the summer. Happily, it has been a busy time, my family is provided for (more or less) but this week I find myself with some time to kill.

The subject for an article did not immediately occur to me. Two things recently have got me thinking, however. First, was the decision of the FIA World Endurance Championship to adopt a “Success Handicap” system for its 2019-2020 season, and second, the concept used in both the International GT Open Championship and the British GT Championship of “Success Seconds” added to fixed pit stop times.

There has been some controversy and comment on this, and clearly they are artificial mechanisms introduced to make it harder for successful competitors to continue to have success. The concept is surely not alien – handicapping is routine in horse-racing and golf, and probably other sports besides. And while I agree that it interferes with the purity of the sport, the nature of motor-racing surely justifies some kind of re-balancing when the cars that are competing are patently not equal?

Let us also not forget that motor races have had handicaps since, well, since the earliest days. Some readers may be familiar with the name A. V. Ebblewhite, the famous handicapper and timekeeper at Brooklands between 1907 and 1939. Albert Victor Ebblewhite, known to everyone as ‘Ebby’, had the idea that racing at Brooklands, although fast, would be enlivened if the drivers of the fastest cars were made to start later than the drivers of the slower ones. So he devised staggered starting procedures, designed so that a close finish would result. It was certainly a successful exercise: he achieved three dead-heats between the two World Wars.

There was also the ‘Brooklands Chicane’, a temporary affair of wattle fencing and oil drums, through which there were four different routes, each of which required cars to slow down to a different extent. Depending on the performance of each car, its driver had to negotiate a specific lane. History does not record how offences were dealt with.

The problem with handicapping is the danger that it can lead to accusations of unfairness. The handicapper is in an invidious position. Competitors may be tempted to hide their true performance in order to avoid too severe a handicap in future. At Silverstone earlier this month, when the International GT Open series visited, what could have been a thrilling four-car battle for the lead of the race disintegrated when Martin Kodric, in his Teo Martin-run McLaren, decided he didn’t want to suffer a time penalty in the next round and deliberately slowed, causing a degree of chaos behind.

We have been told that the Toyota TS050 that won the first round at Silverstone will as a consequence suffer a 1.4s per lap penalty at the next round of the WEC at Fuji. After six hours, that should amount to more than five minutes. Based on the advantage that Toyota had over Rebellion at last year’s race, and that all other things are equal, that means that the Japanese manufacturer will only win by 40s this year, rather than four laps as it did in 2018. Artificial? Yes probably, but more exciting, surely?

Formula 1 races no longer excite me as much as they once did (although I have to admit that I haven’t been present at an F1 race for many years), but nevertheless I recognise that more people watch F1 than any other branch of the sport. But people talk of the racing in F1 not being exciting, despite the introduction of artificial aids such as DRS. Is the answer handicapping? I don’t know, but just imagine the appeal of a race where a McLaren, a Williams or a Haas might win. And how much easier would that make the task of finding sponsors for those teams? It wouldn’t need to be anything as complicated as restricting the output of the power units or adding weight, a simple additional pit stop – the length of which would depend on the number of championship points you had – would do the trick.

Just look at the Constructors’ Championship table. I am not suggesting that the pecking order should be changed; just that if some of the gaps would be reduced then more excitement would result. There is no reason to suppose that anyone other than the best driver over the full course of a season would become World Champion, but I am sure that an increase in spectator appeal would follow. Done in an overt way, so no-one would have any illusion that Mercedes (or Ferrari) were not actually doing the best job by overcoming (or not) the biggest handicap, would it work, do you think? And inevitably, if it were to happen – and work – in Formula 1, then the rest of the sport would follow.

Maybe Pierre Fillon, Gerard Neveu et al are on to something.

Dan Gurney

You might have read my post following the death of John Surtees last year. We’re not even a month into 2018 and the death of Dan Gurney has now been announced. Both men were great drivers in their time, turning their hand successfully to sports cars, formula one as well as team ownership and all that such endeavours entails.

What is especially poignant is that ‘their time’ coincided with my formative years. I’ve written before of my first-hand experience at Brands Hatch in 1967, when both Surtees and Gurney were on the front row for the first race I ever saw. And although any death comes as a shock, it is somehow reassuring to know that both men essentially died of old age.

Not only did both survive the perilous era of my schooldays, but both went on to other things in the sport – the competitive flame burned brightly for many, many years to come. It was through Gurney’s AAR Toyotas that I eventually met the man, but somehow the words “you won the first race I ever saw” got stuck in my throat somewhere – his focus was on the upcoming IMSA race, not on history.

When I visited the Motor Sport Hall of Fame awards in 2016, Dan appeared on a video link and gave a humble but moving acceptance speech. He was undoubtedly frail, but if I am able to conduct myself thus at the age of 84, I’ll be quite happy.

Many eulogies have been written in other places about Dan; by people who knew him better than I, and who are better able to convey in words his impact, influence and legacy on motor racing. To me he was simply the guy in no. 5 who won that first race, on a grey, chilly day when I was 10 years old.

The State of Silverstone

I spent a rather good day at Silverstone last Friday – on the first day of practice for the 2016 British Grand Prix. It was one of those days when I got to experience racing from the spectator side of the fence – one of those days, indeed, that reminded me of those days when as a young man, I became a motor racing fan. It was the second such day in the space of a week, as I also attended the London E-Prix at Battersea Park, but apart from the fact that both involved single seater racing cars and the word “Prix”, there was not a lot in common between them.

Bearing in mind that we actually bought “Pit walk” tickets for Battersea, the cost, to the paying spectator, was slightly less to the Grand Prix Friday than it was for the E-Prix, although travel costs meant that the two days were very comparable in price.

I did the same ‘double’ last year and recorded my impressions here, but I have to say that Silverstone gave me a far better day out than Battersea Park, and without hefty persuasion from my son, I don’t think I’ll be going back to Formula E wherever it ends up next year. The trouble is that, whatever the organisers of the E-Prix do, they will struggle with trying to give the spectator a decent view of the track. And by its very nature, it is rather a one-trick pony: although the Park offers off-track entertainment, with only one race on the programme, it doesn’t really stand a chance against the offering that Silverstone serves up.

Arriving at Silverstone last Friday just as the first Free Practice session for the Formula 1 cars was starting, I sat in the grandstand opposite the pits and ticked off the cars in the entry list. My first (and probably only) complaint – the PA speakers were either not switched on at all, or were woefully quiet. Luckily I had remembered to bring my FM radio, so could keep up-to-date with what was going on thanks to the entertaining and informative commentary team of David Addison, Ian Titchmarsh and Bob Constanduros, assisted during support race action by Alan Hyde.

There were at least three big screens in sight on the pits straight, and the current standings were easily visible on the Rolex scoreboard gantry under which the cars drove as they exited the pit lane. Provided you knew that the second-named driver in the programme was the one driving the car with the yellow roll-hoop camera, and were familiar with the three-letter abbreviations of the drivers’ names, all was reasonably straightforward. I enjoyed watching Charles Leclerc at the wheel of the ‘first’ Haas, and knowing it was him rather than Gutiérrez.

For the GP2 Free Practice session, that came next, I moved round to the grandstand on the outside of Club Corner – and what a good view that provides! At £300 a seat for next year’s GP, I suspect it probably exceeds the Truswell family budget, but I would expect them to be sold out by Christmas!

One of the things I miss from my days of PA commentary at lower classes of racing is watching new, young drivers coming up ‘through the ranks’, and watching the young guns in GP2 and GP3 had me reminiscing anew at the same time as wondering which of the current crop would end up in F1 racing in future, which would find homes in prototypes and GT racing and which would sink without trace.

For the second F1 Free Practice session I wandered down to Stowe, and I found the availability of such a wide range of hot and cold food and drink simply astonishing. There was, quite literally, something for every taste, whether that was Indian, Thai, hog roast, burgers, fish and chips, beer, lager or simply coffee or tea. Of course, although it was busy on Friday, the crowd was probably less than half that which would be there on Sunday, so how they all coped as the weekend wore on, I cannot say. Based on Friday’s experience though, queuing times were entirely manageable.

And despite its reputation, Silverstone has some pretty good vantage points for the spectator. After the spectacle of Hangar Straight and Stowe Corner, I continued my walk: Becketts, Copse, Woodcote and Luffield, all pretty proper, by any measure, even if overtaking opportunities in a race situation would be limited at any of them.

Apparently even Bernie Ecclestone was complimentary about the place, calling it a worthy Grand Prix venue. Maybe at last the investment and dedication of the BRDC has been rewarded. I was also pleased to hear about the Silverstone Heritage Experience, which is due to open in October 2018. The idea, as Sally Reynolds, Chief Executive of Silverstone Heritage Ltd., told me on Friday evening, is to provide not only an additional attraction for those visiting Silverstone on racedays, but also to provide a reason for visiting in its own right. More than 450,000 visitors per year are anticipated to the interactive, inspirational and educational experience – to be housed in the World War Two hangar to the right of the main entrance.

In addition to providing a permanent exhibition, research facilities to the BRDC archive and tours around the circuit, a further objective of the project is to encourage more people into the engineering industry, recognising as it does the part that the UK-based motor sport industry has played in the development of the sport across the world. The project has received a £9.1 million grant from the Heritage Lottery Fund, and is looking to raise a similar amount from businesses and individuals to ensure that the proposed timetable is met. With the patronage of HRH Prince Harry, and Ian Phillips in charge of fund-raising, the project has a good foundation from which to move forward.

I look forward to seeing it all come to pass. Silverstone deserves it!

Keeping Safe?

For the second time in successive races, the field started the Six Hours of Shanghai behind the Safety Car. Given the fact that the Free Practice and Qualifying sessions had all been held in dry – and in some cases, sunny – conditions, this was probably a sensible decision. The same thing happened three weeks before that in Fuji - although the rain was somewhat heavier, practice had been held on a dry track. Indeed, it was the second time in three years that the Six Hours of Fuji was started behind the Safety Car – maybe there is a lesson somewhere there for the calendar-maker?

I have written previously about starting a race behind a Safety Car and while I have to admit reservations about the purity of such a start, I suppose it is best summed up as the ‘least-worst option’. The pity of it is that 22 minutes (in the case of Shanghai) and 38 minutes (in the case of Fuji) of the 360 minutes scheduled racing were lost.

In 1977, I was at Brands Hatch for the World Championship of Makes Six Hours, which in dire conditions, had to be stopped after 37 laps. It was restarted as a 2h 45m race, once conditions had improved somewhat, but annoyingly, those first laps were deemed not to ‘count’ and the efforts of drivers in part one went unrewarded. I was standing in a puddle of ever-increasing dimensions as I waited for the decisions to be reached, and although track conditions improved towards the end of the afternoon, it was all rather dismal.

In 1982, again at Brands Hatch, again it was raining and the 1,000kms race again had to be stopped – after just nine laps. This time though, it was calculated as a two-part race, with times from the first twenty-minute part being added to the time for the rest of the race (a little over five hours) to create an aggregate result, albeit 27 laps short of the scheduled distance. This allowed Jacky Ickx (sharing with Derek Bell) to take victory, even though he didn’t manage to get past Teo Fabi’s Martini-sponsored Lancia, which won ‘on the road’, by just 1.7s, but which had finished the first race 6.4s behind the Rothman’s Porsche.

Had the rules for 1977 applied in 1982, then not only would Fabi and Patrese have won the race at Brands, but also Ickx would not have been world champion!

Although a Safety Car (then called a Pace-car) was first used at Le Mans in 1981, it took until the end of the decade before its use – to ‘neutralise’ the race – became widespread in racing across Europe. Particularly at Le Mans – for obvious reasons – but in all forms of racing: endurance racing, single-seaters, touring cars, the circumstances in which a race would be stopped became fewer and fewer. As a result, ‘aggregate’ races became consigned to history. Having the race decided ‘on the road’ became of critical importance, even if it meant that big leads were wiped out at a stroke as the Safety Car pulled onto the track. ‘Picking up the leader’ became crucial as well, of course, which meant that cars continued to circulate at racing speed, while the Safety Car driver chose his moment to accelerate. It seems to me that the aim of ‘Safety First’ was already being compromised as officialdom tried to implement safety procedures.

It wasn’t long before teams began to build the inevitable Safety Car period into their race plan, and race organisers were left playing catch-up trying to deal with the perceived unfairness that arose.

As a result, procedures became ever-more complicated, in the interests of preserving safety without compromising the race, and teams became ever-more adept in developing tactics to make the best of things. In US sportscar racing, it is rare for a Safety Car period to be less than 20 minutes – surely in this time, the race could have been stopped and restarted?

Worse though, is that different organising bodies have adopted different procedures. With a simple waved yellow flag it is easy. Drivers learn from their first race its meaning: “Great danger ahead, no overtaking, slow down, be prepared to stop.” But with a Safety Car Procedure it is not so simple. Mistakes were made: not only by drivers, but by officialdom as well.

In this year’s World Endurance Championship, there are three different and distinct ways of providing a safer environment to allow incidents that occur on the track to be handled, in addition to the ‘traditional’ yellow flag (see above), without having to resort to the dreaded ‘race stoppage’.

First, of course, there’s the Safety Car. But the procedure for using the Safety Car is different, depending whether we’re at Le Mans or not. And either case that’s different from procedures in the US, where many of the WEC drivers are occupied on non-clashing races.

Second, there’s the Full Course Yellow – similar to the so-called ‘Virtual Safety Car’ procedure in F1, but entirely different from a Safety Car procedure, in that drivers are required to keep to a blanket speed limit, imposed at the same time on the whole circuit. Theoretically at least, this should lead to ‘no bunching’, but Lewis Hamilton jeopardised even that theory by his antics at the US GP.

And third, there is the Slow Zone – again, requiring drivers to keep to a speed limit (80km/h), but only for a specific, and hopefully short, section of the track.

I hope you, dear reader, are keeping up here. Because if you’re not, then what chance the 100-odd racing drivers that take part in every round of the WEC?

At Shanghai, there were four periods of Full Course Caution, and at Fuji there were three. In three of those seven periods, pit stops were made by one or more of the Porsches and Audis that were at the sharp end of those races. Quite obviously, there is a lot to be gained from pitting during a FCY period, and if teams did not realise this initially, it is now common knowledge. Only two of these periods lasted for more than ten minutes, the rest were five minutes or less. In terms of laps, only one period was for more than three laps.

If the Safety Car is used, then the pit lane is closed for the first three laps. This rule is in place, not for safety reasons, but to avoid that some cars gain an advantage. There doesn’t seem any logical reason to me why the SC should close the pit lane, but that a FCY period should not – the advantage to be gained is identical. In fact, at Shanghai and Fuji, the SC laps were quicker than those spent under FCY conditions, so the chances of a car running out of fuel was actually greater – except for the fact, of course, that the SC was only used at the start of both races.

In the tennis match of rule-making, the ball is now in the FIA WEC Endurance Committee’s court to close this loophole and close the pit lane during a FCY period.

Although the option of a Slow Zone has been available to race director Eduardo Freitas, it has not been used since Le Mans. Bearing in mind the carnage that ensued as SZ procedures were not properly implemented - on more than one occasion - at Le Mans, one can see the wisdom of this. But, it is only by implementing these things, and learning from the experiences, that we will get to a satisfactory position.

It is interesting, that in drivers’ briefings, they are told that, in the implementation of a FCY, there is a “reaction time” element: enabling drivers (in effect) to choose the moment when they reduce speed to 80km/h. This is entirely sensible, since you don’t want to be hitting the brakes halfway through a long, high-speed corner. The main problem with the existing SZ procedure is the transition into and out of it. Preceding any Slow Zone is a yellow flag zone, through which drivers have to slow from racing speed to 80km/h. After the Slow Zone, the green flag indicates an immediate return to racing speed is possible. It is in the transition zones where the problems arise, particularly due to less-experienced drivers in some of the less powerful cars.

It seems to me that race officials need to recognise this and make suitable allowance in the procedure, to make the Slow Zone a more effective tool. At the moment it is under-utilised and wasted, in my opinion.

Familiarity with the procedure, whatever it is, undoubtedly helps, as does a clear message in driver briefings. These days, telemetry and GPS data are available to Race Control, so identifying transgressions and dangerous driving should not be as subjective an issue as in former times. If penalties for dangerous driving were draconian but fair, and safety rules and procedures were consistent, not just during a season, but across different series and championships, regardless of territory, organising body or racing discipline, then drivers would respond, and perhaps could then trusted to behave appropriately when following safety regulations.

It will never be possible to completely remove the element of chance and luck from racing. But to ensure that safety procedures commensurate with the times in which we currently live are feasible, drivers, race officials – in the control tower and on the circuit – as well as the spectators, need to know and understand what is going on. Then, and only then, will it be possible to create maximum safety with minimum disruption.

Single-seaters... proper racing cars?

These days, I admit, the majority of my focus on motor sport tends to be on sportscars. Sports prototypes, Grand Touring cars competing over longer distances in races that usually involve more than one driver and several classes of cars with a variety of potential – that’s what catches and holds my interest.

It was not always the case though. Devoted readers (do I have any?) might recall that the first race I ever went to was a Formula 1 race (here) and it was Grand Prix racing and the World Driver’s Championship that filled my thoughts in my youth. Even when I became involved in commentary work, there was little doubt that F1 was the pinnacle of motor sport and I although the strategy, tactics and drama of endurance racing came to enthral me, I was always interested to watch young drivers rising through the ranks of Formula Ford, Formula 3 and into the highest echelons. I watched many such, and they became personal favourites: Ayrton Senna, Derek Warwick, Johnny Herbert, Mika Hakkinen, Jenson Button – they all came from somewhere. Some never made it to the top: Tommy Byrne for example, or Marc Hynes … Some had raw talent, other sparkling personalities, but one somehow built up a knowledge through watching drivers go through their formative years.

But for a number of reasons, my attention has wandered off single-seaters recently and I find myself struggling to keep up with the plethora of junior categories and Formula 1 seemingly populated by drivers who hardly warrant the same level of hero status that I conferred on the Grand Prix stars of my youth.

Despite that, in recent weeks I had the opportunity to visit both Battersea Park to witness the Formula E race and Silverstone, for practice day of the British Grand Prix. In both cases I spent the day wandering the spectator enclosures, rubbing shoulders with true enthusiasts: folk who had widely differing experiences but who were all united by a passion for racing.

Inevitably, Formula E at Battersea was an adventure into the unknown – not only because I hadn’t seen anything like the cars before, nor had I seen anything like the track through the park before. Initially, I have to say I was impressed. Arriving on public transport, walking over a bridge into the centre area; it reminded me more of the atmosphere of the London Olympics than a motor race. The raceday programme was a curate’s egg affair: only £8, printed on environmentally-friendly re-cycled paper, reasonably interesting articles (including one about previous races in London, at Crystal Palace), some good pictures, but no proper entry list. True, there was a full page description of each driver, but no entry list on a single page that you could have open as the cars went past.

Who was that in car number 21? Black, red and silver: yellow helmet? Er… look through the pages, find Mahindra Racing (oh, that's really Carlin)... aha! Bingo – Bruno Senna! It wasn’t helped by the fact that the PA commentator (not sure who he was) wouldn’t refer to the car numbers when talking about the cars either – it was all Nelson Piquet this and Loïc Duval that. And although we had paid for “Silver” tickets, the view of the track was rather limited: cars flashing between trees, and no big screen to see the rest of the action.

Another note to the commentator, you need to establish how much of your audience can actually see a screen before you say “you can see the damage on Chandhok’s car!” No I can’t – I need you to describe it to me!

I knew before I set off that there wasn’t much of a support programme, so the fact that there was a lot of hanging about with nothing to do came as no real surprise. Merchandising and fan areas were nicely laid out though – in very much more of a village fair way than one usually gets at a race meeting. What I found particularly annoying was the loud, modern music which was played through the sound system during the lead-up to the race. I’m probably being old-fashioned though – many of my fellow-spectators seemed to be enjoying it and dancing away the hours before the race.

But here the commentator let us down again: the build-up to the start, with cars obviously on the grid and drivers preparing themselves was not described at all. That increasing tension before the race was not communicated to the crowd at all: surely an opportunity missed. Once the race was underway, though, I have to say the atmosphere in the stand changed – and it was a real treat to watch the cars at close quarters, even if it was through a veil of trees.

Sam Bird was particularly impressive (I was there on the Saturday and was pleased he won Sunday’s race), and generally the racing was what racing should be. Only, if I may be allowed one final gripe: I would have far preferred to not have had to listen to an accompaniment of background music for the entire race. I know the cars are quiet, but actually being able to listen to them would have been nice…

What I found particularly pleasant, was being able to leave the venue at the end of the race (around 5pm), walk to the station and be home in less than an hour.

Silverstone, the following week, seemed initially to have slipped back into all its bad habits with traffic. I’ll admit I may have timed it badly, arriving at the traffic jam at the Green Man on the A43 at 10am on Friday, (Practice Day), but I did not expect to spend more than an hour to get from there to the circuit entrance. Traffic management was chaotic, I’m afraid.

However, once safely inside, Silverstone was at its best. The sun shone, the grass was green and everyone seemed in a good mood. When I mentioned to someone about traffic problems, he said that he had had no problems at all: arriving a little later, as he had, seemed to have done the trick.

The raceday programme was expensive – £15 – but at least included the traditional insert, with entry lists for all the support races as well as the GP itself, spaces to fill in grid positions, etc. Of course Formula 1 cars are too important to have numbers on the side (except for the Saubers), so knowing that the Hamilton and Rosberg were 44 and 6 was of little use. What was useful was the PA commentator telling us that the first-named driver had a black camera mount above the driver’s head; the other driver having a yellow one. Knowledge of that might have saved the crowd giving a resounding cheer to Fernando Alonso as he brought the McLaren-Honda round on one lap!

Although the two weekends were very different from one another in many ways, there were many similarities too – not least in that typical British weather at both venues meant shorts, suncream and umbrellas were all required. I would be interested to know how many people actually attended both events, how many of those at either event were attending their first-ever motorsport event, and how many will be inspired by their experience to come back.

I have always been of the opinion that witnessing motorsport (in fact witnessing anything first hand) is better than watching it on a screen from afar – even if the actual view might be better on TV, nothing compares to actually “being there”. But to make it worthwhile to be there, the event has to motivate the public in order to make people undertake the effort of paying the cost and going to the trouble of making the trip, rather than simply pressing a button on the TV remote control.

In that vein, it was not the technology of Formula E that attracted them to Battersea Park, it was the show; the novelty. The same is more or less true of Formula 1: regardless of the noise, the quality of the racing or whatever, it is the fact that it is the British Grand Prix that draws people to Silverstone every July, no matter what the weather does.

What about you? Were you there? Did you have fun? Will you go again? Answers below!

New Approach Needed?

Readers here may have read the rather odd piece that I published on dailysportscar earlier this month – I was in two minds about publishing it there, but having asked for contributions to a general debate over the winter months on the direction of sportscar racing in general, I felt I had to tie up some loose ends: even if it meant some rather tenuous links.

And then Motor Sport arrived this month, with talk of a revolution in F1, and certainly elements of Mark Hughes’ (and Nigel Roebuck’s) articles struck a chord. If you haven’t bought a copy, I recommend that you do. Especially as, for some months now, it seems to be the only mainstream medium calling time on Bernie’s career. The time has indeed come. An era of post-Bernie may be just around the corner – and if that is the case, it will not just affect Formula 1, but all branches of the sport.

However, one theme that I particularly want to explore in this article, which I alluded to in the DSC article and which also features in Motor Sport, is the matter of procedure. There seems to be an idea these days that procedure is a good thing. A few years ago, when I went into hospital for a fairly major operation to remove a lump that was growing inside my skull, the surgeon came in before the operation to describe how he was going to hook the lump out, through a hole behind my ear, that was to have been drilled previously by a colleague of his. Then the anaesthetist came in to tell me how he was going to ensure that I remained unconscious for the whole time. All very sobering stuff. As he was leaving, I felt it appropriate to wish the anaesthetist “Good Luck”.

“No need for that,” he cheerily replied. “There’s no need for luck, it’s all procedure.” To an extent, this put my mind at rest, but nevertheless, the thought that there was no room for the virtuosity of the various professionals at work on me to demonstrate their skill – their artistry – made me feel more like a car being repaired than a piano being played.

And it is this disapproval of any expression of virtuosity in motor sport, in order for it to gain the approval of the FIA, that I find perturbing. Mark Hughes, in Motor Sport, refers to the ‘punkish’ spirit of the sport in the past, which has been lost today, and I know exactly what he means. Any place for spontaneity is being removed. Unpredictability makes people in authority nervous. But the fans love it.

I have said before that 24 hour races at Le Mans, Daytona, Nürburgring and Spa have nothing really in common as far as their organisation is concerned; and even if they are part of wider championships, they still stand alone in terms of specific sporting regulations, organising bodies, starting times, practice and qualification procedures and so on and so forth. With the exception of Daytona, they all draw substantial crowds, and yet have minimal impact on the sporting radar of mainstream media. Other races also spring to mind: the Sebring 12 hours, yes; but also the Indianapolis 500, the Monte Carlo rally – all events that have a culture of their own, above and beyond being ‘just another round of a championship’.

Twenty years ago, the great god was television. Great lengths were gone to, in order to ensure that ‘our’ product was suitable for televising. The world has moved on though. The public no longer watches television in the same way as it did twenty years ago. People want a race summary broadcast of an endurance race (in much the same way as they wanted DSJ’s GP reports back in the seventies), but more important today is the niche broadcast to those who have a specific interest. Those who watched BBC Ceefax to get news of Le Mans through the night in the eighties were perhaps ahead of their time.

The reason that what I call the “FIA Formula” evolved was that it made it easier for media organisations. Fixed times for press conferences, practice sessions and races, prescribed podium formats and an entry list fixed for the season meant that life became quite routine, if you were involved in the season-long championship; but it was meaningless for ad hoc reporting. And of course, the market, if you are selling a championship, is those with a season-long interest. The ad-hockers have to look after themselves.

What makes Bathurst, Le Mans, even the Indy 500 appealing is their uniqueness in the motor sporting calendar. By their very nature, they are ad-hoc events. In some ways, they provide a template for others to fit to, if they choose so to do.

What is not quite clear to me is whether the market wants something predictable, or whether part of the fun is in piecing together the various strands of information to extract what is going on. I get the impression, that to an extent, the internet-savvy motor sport fan of the twenty-first century derives a certain pleasure from finding video streaming channels, timing and scoring outlets, news and comment; even commentary (possibly).

But there’s another strand to this argument. Motor racing is something to be experienced first-hand. Formula 1 has undoubtedly sacrificed this principle to the dollars offered by television, but most people I speak to talk of their experiences being at races, seeing cars in the paddock, of talking to drivers and catching them in perhaps an off-guard moment, being – well – human. It’s my belief that it is this aspect that generates the appeal in the first place. Having kindled the fire of interest, then certainly, interest in a race may be clearly maintained by all manner of media outlets. But surely the most critical thing is making something that will get people through the gates in the first place – that is what will guarantee the future fans of the sport.

To my mind, the storyline of the race, whether it is won by clever strategy, sublime driving technique or sheer grunt under the bonnet, doesn’t have the same impact as standing beside the track, watching, feeling, smelling and of course hearing the action take place in front of you. However erudite and entertaining the commentators are, they will never be able to convey the full atmosphere of actually being there. However sophisticated online timing screens are, they are no substitute for seeing a car on and occasionally beyond its limit, controlled by someone whom you might have seen walking in the paddock earlier in the day, or standing in the bar later in the evening.

As always, your thoughts on the matter are welcome!

1

There seems to be a bit of a romance going on at the moment between the world of Formula 1 and the cinema. I have a large collection of VHS tapes and DVD material covering many forms of motor sport: not just Le Mans but also Touring Cars and Formula 1, but by any stretch of the imagination, these are specialist films, never intended for anything other than home use or private showings at car clubs. They are certainly not in the same league as John Frankenheimer’s ‘Grand Prix’ or Steve McQueen’s ‘Le Mans’, which also sit in my video cabinet, but on a different shelf.

No, I’m talking about ‘proper cinema’: the kind that Barry Norman would talk about, the kind that brings interest in topics as diverse as the Titanic, George VI or John Nash to the public consciousness.

In 2010, the ‘Senna’ documentary became the first specifically Formula 1 movie to hit mainstream cinema since ‘Grand Prix’, and although it is difficult for me to be objective, it seemed that it struck a chord in the mind of the general public, or at least those who have an interest in the sports pages of the national newspapers. It was long enough ago to make it a story worth telling, but recent enough so that most cinema goers could remember where they were at the time. ‘Senna’ is, undoubtedly, a fine film, managing to balance documentary and drama, and in my view helped along by a charismatic subject in the feature role.

Then, earlier this year, along came ‘Rush’, with a great deal of fuss and amid much Hollywood dry ice. I went along, saw the movie, but came away down-spirited. I knew I would, I suppose: the fantasy world of the dimly-lit cinema with its comfy chairs and the smell of popcorn did not mix with personal memories of a damp Crystal Palace paddock or a packed Paddock Hill Bend.

So I was surprised to read of another F1 film being released this month, but went along with an open mind, when the opportunity arose to attend a preview screening. Shown as part of the BFI’s London Film Festival last week, ‘1’ charts the evolution of safety in Formula 1. Broadly, the film focusses on the period from 1968 to 1996, but director Paul Crowder happily goes beyond this period with impunity. Crowder was able, like Manesh Pandey before him, to convince Bernie Ecclestone to give him access to the FOM film archives, but unlike the director of ‘Senna’, Crowder’s mission was far more wide-ranging. Also, his subject matter pre-dates the FOM archive, and his material draws on much more material, including the Castrol and BP archives, all seamlessly edited into a coherent whole.

‘1’ is an impressive work. Maybe not as emotionally charged as John Matthew’s ‘The Killer Years’, but cleverly entertaining and informative, and above all, really enjoyable. The target audience is probably going to be limited to existing fans of Formula 1 as I suspect that there may be just too much content to explain everything to the uninitiated.

And for me, it is the content that makes this must-see viewing. More than that, it is a must-buy DVD. I had the chance to talk to Crowder after the screening and I told him how I felt like I wanted to press the pause button from time to time, and replay various scenes. “That’s what I try to do with my films,” he replied, “to pack in as much as possible, and make it a film that you will want to see over and over again. And each time you watch it, you’ll notice something different.”

It is clear that Crowder, along with writer Mark Monroe and associate producer Jonathan Bracey-Gibbon, (who was also at the screening), are all massive Formula 1 fans, even though this is Crowder’s first film about motor sport (his previous best-known work ‘Once in a Lifetime’, covered the story of the New York Cosmos soccer team). He certainly packs in the action. It keeps the attention; it is fast-paced and action-packed: features on World Champions Clark, Surtees, Hill (G and D), Rindt, Stewart, Fittipaldi, Lauda, Hunt, Andretti, Scheckter and Mansell are intertwined with familiar drivers like Brundle, Ickx and Watson, along with lesser-known luminaries like Brett Lunger and John Miles.

But like a faithful old labrador, Crowder keeps returning to the theme of safety, comments coming thick and fast from Nigel Roebuck, Maurice Hamilton and other insiders like Alexander Hesketh, Sid Watkins, Jo Ramirez, John Hogan, Max Mosley, Paddy McNally and even Ecclestone himself. Then, suddenly, he’ll shock you with another accident. In this regard, the art is to get the balance right between contemporary interviews and archive footage; between drivers in action and in repose; between shots of wives, girlfriends and hangers-on and paddock activity. The background music is atmospheric and the narration, by Michael Fassbender, well-measured and accurate.

I suppose it is inevitable that debate will rage about who and what has been left out. Crowder reveals that: “we had a lot of stuff that didn’t make the final cut, but we wanted to keep the momentum of the film moving,” and in this he certainly succeeds. No offence meant to those involved, but for my own part, I would rather have lost the contributions of Vettel, Hamilton and Button and had more of Pryce, Villeneuve or Koenigg. Michael Schumacher appears too, of course, and could speak on behalf of all the 21st century racers, to my mind.

I noticed only two howlers, but neither detracted from the enjoyment of the film –indeed I would have to watch again to ensure that the errors were not mine. The film is scheduled to go on general release in the UK next year – if it comes to a cinema near you, don’t miss it. And even if it doesn’t, then buy the DVD (which promises to have special features with even more detail for aficionados) as soon as it’s available!

Classic Tracks, part 3 - Monaco

If Le Mans and Indianapolis are iconic race tracks, then so too, in the minds of the public at large, must be Monaco. It is hard to imagine a track more photographically recognisable, one that is instantly associated with the glamour of Formula 1, nor one that is more unlikely in the modern era.

Whether it’s the Lotuses of Stirling Moss in Rob Walker’s colours or Graham Hill in the Gold Leaf livery; Derek Daly’s Tyrrell flying at St. Devote, Ayrton Senna in the barrier at Portier or Michael Schumacher stopped at Rascasse: they are all images ingrained indelibly in the minds of motor sport enthusiasts the world over.

(As an aside, if you are one of those enthusiasts, close your eyes for a moment and try to imagine a 917, 962 or R18 superimposed on the streets of the Principality - no, it doesn’t work for me either!)

Anyway, back to my topic. I have witnessed two Grands Prix at Monte Carlo – the first in 1977 and the second in 1980.

In 1977 I was still at University, and Page & Moy was offering a return coach trip to Monaco that arrived on the morning of the Grand Prix and included a general admission ticket to the “Pelouses Rocher” spectator enclosure that overlooked the Rascasse and the swimming pool.

I decided it made sense to meet the coach at Dover, so I found a side street in which to park my car, and joined my fellow-enthusiasts – most of whom had travelled on the bus from Victoria Coach Station. We took the ferry to Calais, and began the long and arduous journey across France. Well, it was long, but for a passenger, not particularly arduous. I remember not really knowing where I was for the largest part of the journey, finding it hard to sleep, and half-heartedly listening to the FA Cup final on the radio (must have been long-wave).

We arrived at the circuit at around nine or ten in the morning, as I recall, and were given our admission tickets. On the way, I made the acquaintance of another chap who was bound for the same location (quite a few of my fellows had bought grandstand seats), and we browsed the souvenir stalls together.

As we approached the point at which the tickets were being collected, so the crowds intensified and there was something of a scrum to get in. But there was no turnstile, nor any kind of gate, just a loose row of ticket collectors. I reached forward to hand my ticket over to one, only to be barged out of the way by a group of Italians who were slightly, shall we say, more physical, than I. I found myself shoved in front of another of the ticket collectors, except that my ticket was already in the hand of the first ticket collector. Problem! Indicating to my buddy ahead of my and the chap who had collected my ticket over to the side, I shrugged my shoulders at him, and the force of the throng behind me carried me through and onto the Rock itself.

If there hadn’t been a Grand Prix going on, then it would have been a good place for a nice walk, with lovely views over the harbour. As it was, although the view was grand, there were plenty of people and not too much room. Losing touch with my erstwhile buddy, I shoved myself to a point where I could see the track over the shoulders of just two beanie-hatted Italians. We couldn’t see the start from where we were, but we could see the exit from Ste. Devote, up the hill towards the Casino, and then from the exit of the tunnel, down round the swimming pool, and into La Rascasse, albeit at something of a distance. Luckily, I had binoculars.

Of course I had binoculars. Just like I had a stop-watch (an ordinary, analogue one), along with pen and paper for keeping a lap chart. And as the race wore on, and the two Ferraris of Lauda and Reutemann were closing in on the Wolf of Jody Scheckter that had led from the start, my Italian neighbours suddenly were pushing me forward, so they could look over my shoulder and see how many laps were left to run, and see my stop-watch measuring the gap. (There was no chance of hearing the commentary up on ‘the Rock’.)

Much to my frustration, after the race, there was no time to hang about, as I so enjoy to do, as we were supposed to be back at the coach straight after the race for the drive back home.

In 1980, I was lucky enough to go to the Grand Prix again, and in much better style. Although, as I was to discover, the style to which my budget stretched was still way short of the level attained by others. I was living in Lugano, Switzerland, at the time, so I hired a car to drive there and booked a hotel in Nice. I remember it was the Hotel Imperial, whether it is still there or not, I don’t know. The drive down from Switzerland was sublime, I felt like a movie star as I navigated down to Genoa and along the coast past Sanremo towards Ventimiglia. OK so I was only in an Opel Kadett – I remember it was red – but in my head I was Roger Moore in the Volvo P1800.

I found a spot to park on the Boulevard Albert le premier, and tried to mingle with the crowds, but I was hopelessly out of my depth. I had adjusted to the cost of living at Swiss prices, but Monte-Carlo was something else. A beer in Rosie’s bar and a coffee in the Rascasse blew the budget for dinner, so I drove back to the hotel and prepared for Saturday practice.

For Saturday, I had a ticket to a spectator enclosure situated on the inside of the circuit, between the Chicane and Tabac. The F3 support encounter was won by Mauro Baldi from pole position, but the star of the race was Kenny Acheson, who finished fourth having started on the penultimate row of the grid. Nigel Mansell was in there somewhere as well, in the Unipart-sponsored March.

Being there on my own, I was free to soak up the atmosphere of Saturday night in Monaco, and it was a marvellous experience, wandering the streets, observing the somehow obscene displays of glamour, decadence and jaw-dropping wealth that I honestly knew I could not even aspire to. I was in two minds whether indeed I did aspire to it all, but just for a brief moment, I was part of it.

It was also possible to wander around the paddock area (then, as now, along the harbour front from the actual pits) and get up close to the cars being worked on. At the time, I felt very much that this was the 'modern era', when technology (turbo-charging, electronics, etc.) was at its height, but to look back now on cars being worked on under awnings, on dirt floor, by mechanics in t-shirts and shorts, makes you realise how rudimentary it all was, by modern standards. One wonders how the current age will be regarded by the next generation?

 

The race itself on Sunday was almost an anti-climax, compared to the exhilaration of actually being there. There was a support race for Renault 5s, then Prince Rainer arrived to take up his position in the Royal box.

Didier Pironi, starting from pole in the Ligier, was heading for victory until he crashed as there was a brief rain shower. This handed victory to Carlos Reutemann (Williams FW07), who had started alongside the Frenchman on the front row of the grid. Overtaking was never easy at Monaco (unless you’re Kenny Acheson).

But then again, nothing that I have ever experienced in racing comes close to the thrill of watching full-blooded Grand Prix cars threading their way through the streets of Monte Carlo. You are so close to the cars that you feel the impact of the air in your face as the cars go past. Constantly just inches away from concrete barriers, and occasionally glancing off them, by the end of the grand prix, you are exhausted from the physical exertion of watching.

A classic setting for Grand Prix cars, and some very special memories for me.

A Wet Afternoon in Wales

We interrupted our family holiday this year when I noticed that we were within striking distance of Ruthin, North Wales. From reading David Tremayne’s excellent work, “The Lost Generation”, I knew that this was the town where Tom Pryce was born, and further, that the local authority had erected a monument to one of its most famous sons. So, with some grumbling, the rest of the family came along as well, and after asking for directions, we came upon the monument at the junction of Clwyd Street and Upper Clwyd Street.

For the local populace, it does not seem to be particularly noteworthy - certainly it seemed to me that more tourists were destined for the Gaol at the bottom of the hill - and to be sure, it is an edifice of distinctive taste; some of the perspectives are just plain wrong, and is it in colour, or was that just a trick of the light, reflecting off the wet bronze?

In any event, apart from a means of recommending Tremayne’s book, I think it is worth reflecting on the fact that Pryce - along with Tony Brise and Roger Williamson - was a truly a member of that ‘lost generation’ of great British racing talents whose presence on the racing scene I grew up with.

In 1974, Pryce won 100 bottles of champagne for being fastest in the first practice session for the British Grand Prix at Brands Hatch, and nine months later came his first Formula 1 win.

I was there at Brands Hatch on March 16th, 1975, as my blurry Instamatic photo on the right shows. (I was proud of it at the time!) Pryce was on pole position in the stunning-looking Shadow DN5, and  was very definitely in charge on one of his favourite circuits in far from ideal conditions. My diary entry for the day reads: “weather not good - snowed a little”.

According to Motor Sport magazine, the start was delayed while decisions were made on the question of tyres, but without question, Pryce outshone the stars all weekend. Despite a track described as ‘slippery’, Pryce not only won, but also beat Ronnie Peterson and Jacky Ickx in their Lotus 72s and the reigning World Champion Emerson Fittipaldi in his McLaren M23. His fastest lap equalled the existing lap record.

It was only while digging out the raceday programme for the event, that I was reminded that the Formula Atlantic race that opened the meeting was won by Tony Brise. The future seemed surely bright for British racers on that day.

As my involvement at Brands increased in the 1980’s, it was clear to me that Pryce was still held in high regard by the management there. Karl Jones and Tim Davies - also favourites at Brands - were not, however, on the same level, and despite the numerous champions that Scotland has produced, Wales is still short on motor-racing heroes.

Much has changed since Pryce’s accident in 1977, of course, but people still put both themselves and racing drivers in jeopardy from time to time. Only last month, at the Silverstone Six Hours, we saw a marshal running across the track to clear some debris during the race. And those who saw the antics of Neil Horan in the British Grand Prix in 2003 probably didn’t realise quite how close we were to a major incident. I’m not advocating any wholesale changes here, but just as we would never (would we?) see a repeat of the circumstances of Roger Williamson’s death in 1973, I believe that there are still lessons to be learned from Kyalami 1977. It seems to me that a human being sat in a racing car has a very different view of the world than one stood beside the track holding a flag (or a fire extinguisher).

The death of Tom Pryce was certainly needless; but let it not be pointless.

The inscription on his memorial reads:
“Fe gurodd y goreuon heb gefna ar ei gynefin”

“He beat the best without ever turning his back on his roots”

Senna - the movie.

Did anyone else notice that in the scene where Ayrton is shown talking to Roland Bruynseraede through the window of an official car, when they are discussing which side of the track pole position should be, and whether the racing line is on the right or the left hand side of the track... that they are at Hockenheim, not at Suzuka?

In general, I think that Manish Pandey and Asif Kapadia have done a superb job with the film, but with this scene I fear that they may be guilty of misleading their audience somewhat.

It's not really a complaint in any real sense of the word, as I would like to encourage as many people as possible to go and see the film. And if anyone has an explanation, I'd love to hear it.

I'm off to the Nurburgring this weekend... much more relaxing than Le Mans, in many ways. A lot less intensity, and in many ways, more fun. More thoughts next week.

Grand Prix: The Killer Years

It has come to my notice that the latest of John Matthews’ films is being aired this Sunday evening on BBC4 at 9pm (don’t forget that the clocks go forward this weekend as well).

Regular readers will recognise John as the producer of “Deadliest Crash”, which was reviewed on this blog a while back.

Matthews' latest film is called “Grand Prix: The Killer Years” and tells the story of the 1960’s and early 1970’s, when it was common for Grand Prix drivers to be killed racing, often televised for millions to see. Mechanical failure, lethal track design, fire and incompetence snuffed out dozens of young drivers. It was the most lethal period of Grand Prix history.

The film features Sir Jackie Stewart OBE, Emerson Fittipaldi and John Surtees OBE, and explores how Grand Prix drivers grew sick of their closest friends being killed and finally took control of their destiny.

It is probably not a film to enjoy, but one that should be watched, nevertheless.