The thrill of Quebec
Many years ago, while sinking beers in a disreputable Parisian drinking establishment, I chanced upon two genial chaps named Francois and Pierre who were glad for me to join them and discover what joys lay before us that evening. Even to my Kiambu ear, the French these chaps spoke was heavily accented. Upon enquiry, I learned that they were Québécois. Listening to my new friends describe their Canadian Province and their desire for self determination - surprisingly high level conversation for that place and time, I accept, but there we are! - I understood profoundly why a French speaking native of Quebec thinks of himself first as Québécois and then Canadian. Caught in America's back yard with the Queen of England as his country's head of state, it is no surprise that a Canadian with a claim which distinguishes him from the rest would want to assert this for all he was worth.
Seated within spitting distance of us was a loud American fellow holding court to a dishevelled and rather unsavoury gaggle of people. During a break to soothe his overworked tonsils with beer, the American overheard Francois say something like "believe me, you don't want those arrogant American pricks as your neighbours". This remark greatly displeased the American. In a state of high dudgeon, he got up and advanced to our table. "Worthless Canadian bastard," he spluttered, "do you have any idea where you would be without the good old United States? I'll tell you for nothing, you scumbag. Nowhere!"
The reaction of the two Québécois gentlemen was so unusual that it has remained etched on my memory ever since. Francois calmly got up, pinched the American's nose with his left hand and yanked at his tongue with his right. Meanwhile, Pierre undid his belt and began using it to whip the American about the calves. After about a minute or so they let the American go. So stunned was he by this treatment that he slunk away and quietly left the bar. "We do things differently in Quebec," Pierre said with a knowing wink.
It was my turn to be provocative. "If you fellows want to be independent so desperately, why is the annual Formula One race held in Montreal called the Canadian Grand Prix and not the Quebec Grand Prix?" I asked. Francois smiled. "That is one of the main reasons why I still call myself Canadian," he said, "they could never do as good a job in Toronto, my friend!"
When I thought about it, Francois made sense. The Québécois have a talent for motor racing unequalled anywhere else in Canada. There has only ever been one Canadian Formula One world champion and he was Québécois. Now retired, his name is Jacques Villeneuve and motor racing ran through his veins - hardly surprising given that he was the son of one of the true Formula One greats, Gilles Villeneuve. Gilles Villeneuve gave his life up for Grand Prix racing - he was killed while driving for Ferrari in Belgium in 1982 - and the circuit at the Ile Notre-Dame in Montreal is, appropriately, named after him. It is a fascinating circuit - very quick and prone to life jarring moments like smashing one's car into the inconveniently located wall at the last corner. It is one of those races that one eagerly awaits each year. Coming, as it does this year, straight after Monaco, it promises to be another gem in a season of such gripping quality that superlatives are inadequate. And we are not yet even at the halfway point!
It was at the end of the Canadian Grand Prix in 2005 that I began to accept that the long, stultifying Schumacher era was about to end. Michael Schumacher virtually owned the Canadian Grand Prix. Like Germany and Italy, it was one of those races you didn't have to watch to know who had won it. But he was beaten to second place in 2005 by Kimi Raikkonen and again by Fernando Alonso in 2006. I think even he knew then that the baton had passed. It was time to get off the stage.
If Ferrari can sort out the speed deficit they seemed to be labouring under in Monaco, I think they have a good chance here. Another win by Raikkonen is, surely, overdue. He needs to start working jolly hard if he is going to stand any chance of putting a dent in the yawning gap between himself and the three out in front. If it isn't yet clear to the partying young Finn that success in Formula One requires more commitment than getting into a car and driving it very fast, it never will be. Another early shower could blow him out of the reckoning completely. That would be a shame, for there is no doubt whatsoever about his prodigious talent.
McLaren have gone as far as admitting that they cannot expect as dominant a performance from their cars as they enjoyed in Monaco. At the top end things rarely stay static for very long. Also, I think it is time to cool down some of the hype and restore focus. There are other teams whose game is improving. We haven't seen the last of BMW or Renault this season, I am sure. We have twelve races - more than half a season - to go. Plenty of time!
I used to be partial to a drop of Molson Dry beer but haven't had any in years. I think I may just seek some out this weekend. I suppose it's the least I can do since I am not able to get out to Montreal myself!
Enjoy Canada!
Gitau
05 June 2007
Seated within spitting distance of us was a loud American fellow holding court to a dishevelled and rather unsavoury gaggle of people. During a break to soothe his overworked tonsils with beer, the American overheard Francois say something like "believe me, you don't want those arrogant American pricks as your neighbours". This remark greatly displeased the American. In a state of high dudgeon, he got up and advanced to our table. "Worthless Canadian bastard," he spluttered, "do you have any idea where you would be without the good old United States? I'll tell you for nothing, you scumbag. Nowhere!"
The reaction of the two Québécois gentlemen was so unusual that it has remained etched on my memory ever since. Francois calmly got up, pinched the American's nose with his left hand and yanked at his tongue with his right. Meanwhile, Pierre undid his belt and began using it to whip the American about the calves. After about a minute or so they let the American go. So stunned was he by this treatment that he slunk away and quietly left the bar. "We do things differently in Quebec," Pierre said with a knowing wink.
It was my turn to be provocative. "If you fellows want to be independent so desperately, why is the annual Formula One race held in Montreal called the Canadian Grand Prix and not the Quebec Grand Prix?" I asked. Francois smiled. "That is one of the main reasons why I still call myself Canadian," he said, "they could never do as good a job in Toronto, my friend!"
When I thought about it, Francois made sense. The Québécois have a talent for motor racing unequalled anywhere else in Canada. There has only ever been one Canadian Formula One world champion and he was Québécois. Now retired, his name is Jacques Villeneuve and motor racing ran through his veins - hardly surprising given that he was the son of one of the true Formula One greats, Gilles Villeneuve. Gilles Villeneuve gave his life up for Grand Prix racing - he was killed while driving for Ferrari in Belgium in 1982 - and the circuit at the Ile Notre-Dame in Montreal is, appropriately, named after him. It is a fascinating circuit - very quick and prone to life jarring moments like smashing one's car into the inconveniently located wall at the last corner. It is one of those races that one eagerly awaits each year. Coming, as it does this year, straight after Monaco, it promises to be another gem in a season of such gripping quality that superlatives are inadequate. And we are not yet even at the halfway point!
It was at the end of the Canadian Grand Prix in 2005 that I began to accept that the long, stultifying Schumacher era was about to end. Michael Schumacher virtually owned the Canadian Grand Prix. Like Germany and Italy, it was one of those races you didn't have to watch to know who had won it. But he was beaten to second place in 2005 by Kimi Raikkonen and again by Fernando Alonso in 2006. I think even he knew then that the baton had passed. It was time to get off the stage.
If Ferrari can sort out the speed deficit they seemed to be labouring under in Monaco, I think they have a good chance here. Another win by Raikkonen is, surely, overdue. He needs to start working jolly hard if he is going to stand any chance of putting a dent in the yawning gap between himself and the three out in front. If it isn't yet clear to the partying young Finn that success in Formula One requires more commitment than getting into a car and driving it very fast, it never will be. Another early shower could blow him out of the reckoning completely. That would be a shame, for there is no doubt whatsoever about his prodigious talent.
McLaren have gone as far as admitting that they cannot expect as dominant a performance from their cars as they enjoyed in Monaco. At the top end things rarely stay static for very long. Also, I think it is time to cool down some of the hype and restore focus. There are other teams whose game is improving. We haven't seen the last of BMW or Renault this season, I am sure. We have twelve races - more than half a season - to go. Plenty of time!
I used to be partial to a drop of Molson Dry beer but haven't had any in years. I think I may just seek some out this weekend. I suppose it's the least I can do since I am not able to get out to Montreal myself!
Enjoy Canada!
Gitau
05 June 2007
posted by Gitau at 3:08 pm
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