Note to my loyal reader: this was written on Saturday night before I knew that the Las Vegas Grand Prix was taking place late on Saturday night. I’ve decided to publish it anyway, if for no other reason than it shows what an expert I am on F1.
The main sports headline today is the disqualification of Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri from the Las Vegas grand prix. According to the BBC: “The skid blocks on both (McLaren) cars were found after the race to be less than the minimum depth allowed in the rules.” Naturally, I had no idea what a ‘skid block’ was but this is what it is. To be honest, I am none the wiser, having seen that explanation, but then I am none the wiser, after a lifetime of bafflement, as to why people are interested in Formula 1 in the first place.
My ADHD does not help in this matter. A Grand Prix seems to last around two hours and the cars go round and round the circuit for what feels like forever, but is in fact something like 50 laps, which to me is close to forever. Once the cars enter the first bend, it seems to me, whoever is leading goes on to win. It is probably just me who is thinking: call that a race?
I grew up during a time when F1 was on terrestrial television. I had even heard of some of the drivers, like Jackie Stewart, Graham Hill and Jim Clark. But even a free-to-view F1 event was, at least to me, so boring, I usually found something – anything – else to do. From the 1980s to 1994, I did, briefly, become interested, specifically because of one driver: Ayrton Senna.
The Brazilian driver was everything F1 wasn’t. A technical genius, a daredevil driver; some say he was often the fastest driver without driving the fastest car. And he had stardust about him, great charisma, a superstar. I even watched him racing on a regular basis, not really paying attention to any of the other drivers. While I found the sport – and at times it is difficult to call F1 a sport in the conventional sense – more of dreary, predictable procession, really, Senna rose above it. I had no interest in any other driver, never mind a team, but this man was special.
Senna’s death in 1994 was shown live on television. He crashed into a concrete barrier and I remember the cameras dwelling on the carnage. Later, we learned he had died of massive head injuries and, without trying to sound too dramatic, my interest in F1 died with him.
The advent of Sky Sports meant that most major sports, including F1, would disappear behind a subscription paywall and while I have subscribed to Sky’s rip off subscription costs for most of the time since, motor racing has rarely grabbed my attention. Today’s disqualifications are probably the only interesting aspect of the season so far.
However, I do have a favourite driver: the Dutchman Max Verstappen. This is, at least in part, the contrarian in me. To many folk, Verstappen bends the rules to, and sometimes beyond, the limit. He’s edgy to the point of being a bit lairy and yes, sometimes he appears reckless and arrogant. His Dutchness appeals to my DNA and the fact that so many people dislike him makes me far more inclined to will him to win, even if I can’t be bothered to watch the alleged races.
What makes it more amusing at times like these is when the conspiracy theorists come out to play. In some quasi Masonic way, the powers-that-be, presumably including the stewards who have disqualified Verstappen’s closest rivals, have done so purely because they want Verstappen to win. Because he is box office, the F1 hierarchy must pull out all the stops to enable him to win, including by way of dubious disqualifications, which would have never happened to Verstappen himself. To the conspiracy believers, it’s the F1 equivalent of the football referee who gives all the decisions to the away team. If this happens to be true, do furnish me with evidence. However, I do not expect you to struggle to find any.
I know enough about Sky’s coverage of F1 to understand what happens next. A lengthy ‘build-up’ to the race, a tiresome grid walk where Martin Brundle exchanges trivia with celebrities and F1 drivers and managers (someone else will do that today because Brundle has the day off – and who can blame him?), the warm-up lap, followed by what some term loosely as ‘the race’. Given that Verstappen was on the front row of the grid, just behind Norris, he will take the lead and hold it for the ensuring 50 laps, while Sky commentator David Croft will try to liven things up with a fever pitch description of “the battle for 12th place”. As Verstappen passes the chequered flag, we will have witnessed a “great race” and the podium drivers will empty perfectly good Champagne over each other. This will ‘set the scene’ for the final races of the season in the motor racing hot spots of Qatar and Abu Dhabi. Not on my telly it won’t.
I keep reading that F1 is more popular than ever. Perhaps, it’s the company I keep, but I can’t think of anyone who gives a flying fuck about motor racing. Literally no one says: “Did you see the Grand Prix? What a race that was!” because even if they did see it, they will have watched a procession, not a race. I suppose if you find processions exciting, maybe you should go and watch a few funerals?
