Hamilton leads the charge in Melbourne; bring on Malaysia
If you were the chief engineer at Ferrari, you probably wouldn't be sleeping terribly well after last weekend. Not only were both Ferraris humiliatingly beaten in both qualifying and the race by a resurgent McLaren with Lewis Hamilton as its principal pilot, they suffered the ignominy of three retirements for mechanical reasons. First, Kimi Raikkonen's car broke down during qualifying on Saturday, then his car and that of his team-mate, Felipe Massa, retired for engine related reasons during the race on Sunday. It would have been a little easier to accept the retirements if both drivers were let down by nothing more than their equipment; but no! Both Ferrari men elevated driving incompetence to an art form. To see the world champion making schoolboy overtaking errors and forcing himself off the circuit made me gulp my tea down the wrong way as I struggled to keep a straight face. I knew the absence of electronic toys and the extreme temperatures were going to cause a few headaches for the drivers but what we witnessed in Melbourne was ridiculous. Sunday's carnage was more akin to a dodgem race at the local fair!
Fully aware of Ferrari's woes and with his mind on next weekend's race in Malaysia, Hamilton tightened the screw in his post race comments: "I had plenty of time in me so I just used that to my advantage and tried to look after the tyres". By that he meant he had plentiful reserves of speed which he could have used but did not need to. Later when asked how he had found the incredibly hot conditions, he said "I felt fantastic. I never thought it would have been as physically a breeze as it was." With drivers making error after error because their brains were slowly being fried in their helmets, this was brazen cockiness. Hamilton was inviting the world to throw anything at him and he would be equal to the challenge. As things turned out, Hamilton walked away from Melbourne having set the pole position and won a very challenging race from the front. Raikkonen and Ferrari received the scant consolation of being awarded a solitary point because, notwithstanding his failure to finish, Raikkonen had managed to retire last in a race which had only seven finishers.
It was an absurdly hot day in Melbourne on Sunday. You could see the heat shimmering over the cars as they lined up at the grid for the start of the race. The thought of the layers of clothing each driver had to wear in such oppressive temperatures reminded one that Formula One is very much a physical sport. These chaps may be paid a shed-load of money but, blimey, they do have to work hard for it!
If fitness was necessary for Melbourne, it will be equally indispensable in hot, sultry Malaysia in a few days time. No time to take stock, assess the events of last week and make adjustments to the cars. The teams - many of which will be rebuilding completely wrecked cars as if from new - have to gird their lions and pray to their Gods. Malaysia with its super-fast circuit and changeable weather conditions - from tropical heat to monsoon rain in the blinking of an eye - is not the simplest of races to prepare yourself for without any rest.
I did not know a great deal about Malaysia until I went to university in the late eighties. At the time Malaysia sent entire villages of students to study at UK universities; but the non-Malaysian students often found we had pretty much no contact with the Malaysians. The Malaysians kept themselves to themselves, huddled together in the same corners at lectures or in the cafeteria and spoke amongst themselves in their local dialects. They were mostly middling students; content to get by and leave England having obtained the qualification they had paid so handsomely for, but not flogging their guts to do so. One girl stood out. She was a tall, elegant, extremely haughty girl of Indian extraction called Gurdeep. Aloof to a fault, Gurdeep neither sought the company of her fellow Malaysians nor that of anyone else. She was fiercely critical of mediocrity. Gurdeep had no qualms at upbraiding lecturers who were ill-prepared or giving fellow students the most withering of looks when they dared suggest that she was incorrect at anything. Oh, I forgot a minor detail, she was drop-dead-gorgeous!
One day while in my room discussing the merits of goose down pillows over duck feather ones (or something equally silly) with a giggly girl, I heard a loud rap to my door. I leapt up intending to give the door-rapper a collared ear and opened the door to find five or six anxious looking Malaysians standing outside. I recognised their faces from attendance at lectures but that was about as far as our acquaintance went.
"Hello?" I said.
A girl haltingly asked, almost in a whisper, "have you had chicken pox?"
"What! Chicken pox? Do I look like I'm three years old? Is this some sort of practical joke?"
"No," said someone else, "it is not. Big problem, la. No chicken pox in Malaysia."
"Well, good for people in Malaysia! Now, do you mind, I have some rather delicate business to conclude," I said.
"Gurdeep has chicken pox," said yet another person.
This was becoming surreal. I had more real things to be getting on with indoors." Your idea of humour is well past mine. If you will excuse me, I..."
"She has no one to see her in clinic, la! Very lonely. Can you go?"
I got away from the Malaysians and gave some thought to the conversation I had had with them. What they were telling me was that Gurdeep was under quarantine with chicken pox at the university clinic and needed company but they were unable to provide it because they had never been ill with the pox themselves. It didn't surprise me. They were all a cosseted lot. There was as much chicken pox in Malaysia as anywhere but they had somehow been insulated from it until they got to England.
As I had suffered each childhood illness going before I knew how to write down my name, there was no risk of me contracting chicken pox in the university clinic. I went to see Gurdeep on the following day and found her watching the Austrian Grand Prix in her quarantine room. For a woman who had scarcely permitted me the time of day before, she seemed surprisingly pleased to see me. She insisted I stayed and watched the race - which I did not strenuously object to doing. Her insights into motor racing were impressive. More impressive, though, was her eye for circuit design. "The more innovative circuits will be in places like Malaysia in the next ten years," she said. I told her that suffering chicken pox was no excuse for talking out of her arse. Gurdeep smiled and said "just you wait." The year was 1990.
Gurdeep was so right I wish I could find her now and apologise. Before the end of the decade the magnificent new Sepang circuit had opened in Selangor, Malaysia and the world was allowed to witness one of the most thrilling races of the last few years. The 1999 Malaysian Grand Prix was a sweet foretaste of things to come in Sepang. No race has quite measured up to it since but how many times do you get a man like Michael Schumacher so determined to nail down a point ("Hey look, you cretins, I might have been out for four months but I am not a double world champion for no reason!")?
Some say Lewis Hamilton may break Schumacher's many records. Possibly, but it is early days yet. Let us see how he gets on in Malaysia this weekend. You may be tempted to sacrifice this weekend's racing and do Eastery things instead but I would ill advise it. You might easily miss something for which you will kick yourself forever. So sod the festivities, get out of bed, switch on the telly and I'm sure you will,
Enjoy Malaysia!
Gitau
19 March 2008
Fully aware of Ferrari's woes and with his mind on next weekend's race in Malaysia, Hamilton tightened the screw in his post race comments: "I had plenty of time in me so I just used that to my advantage and tried to look after the tyres". By that he meant he had plentiful reserves of speed which he could have used but did not need to. Later when asked how he had found the incredibly hot conditions, he said "I felt fantastic. I never thought it would have been as physically a breeze as it was." With drivers making error after error because their brains were slowly being fried in their helmets, this was brazen cockiness. Hamilton was inviting the world to throw anything at him and he would be equal to the challenge. As things turned out, Hamilton walked away from Melbourne having set the pole position and won a very challenging race from the front. Raikkonen and Ferrari received the scant consolation of being awarded a solitary point because, notwithstanding his failure to finish, Raikkonen had managed to retire last in a race which had only seven finishers.
It was an absurdly hot day in Melbourne on Sunday. You could see the heat shimmering over the cars as they lined up at the grid for the start of the race. The thought of the layers of clothing each driver had to wear in such oppressive temperatures reminded one that Formula One is very much a physical sport. These chaps may be paid a shed-load of money but, blimey, they do have to work hard for it!
If fitness was necessary for Melbourne, it will be equally indispensable in hot, sultry Malaysia in a few days time. No time to take stock, assess the events of last week and make adjustments to the cars. The teams - many of which will be rebuilding completely wrecked cars as if from new - have to gird their lions and pray to their Gods. Malaysia with its super-fast circuit and changeable weather conditions - from tropical heat to monsoon rain in the blinking of an eye - is not the simplest of races to prepare yourself for without any rest.
I did not know a great deal about Malaysia until I went to university in the late eighties. At the time Malaysia sent entire villages of students to study at UK universities; but the non-Malaysian students often found we had pretty much no contact with the Malaysians. The Malaysians kept themselves to themselves, huddled together in the same corners at lectures or in the cafeteria and spoke amongst themselves in their local dialects. They were mostly middling students; content to get by and leave England having obtained the qualification they had paid so handsomely for, but not flogging their guts to do so. One girl stood out. She was a tall, elegant, extremely haughty girl of Indian extraction called Gurdeep. Aloof to a fault, Gurdeep neither sought the company of her fellow Malaysians nor that of anyone else. She was fiercely critical of mediocrity. Gurdeep had no qualms at upbraiding lecturers who were ill-prepared or giving fellow students the most withering of looks when they dared suggest that she was incorrect at anything. Oh, I forgot a minor detail, she was drop-dead-gorgeous!
One day while in my room discussing the merits of goose down pillows over duck feather ones (or something equally silly) with a giggly girl, I heard a loud rap to my door. I leapt up intending to give the door-rapper a collared ear and opened the door to find five or six anxious looking Malaysians standing outside. I recognised their faces from attendance at lectures but that was about as far as our acquaintance went.
"Hello?" I said.
A girl haltingly asked, almost in a whisper, "have you had chicken pox?"
"What! Chicken pox? Do I look like I'm three years old? Is this some sort of practical joke?"
"No," said someone else, "it is not. Big problem, la. No chicken pox in Malaysia."
"Well, good for people in Malaysia! Now, do you mind, I have some rather delicate business to conclude," I said.
"Gurdeep has chicken pox," said yet another person.
This was becoming surreal. I had more real things to be getting on with indoors." Your idea of humour is well past mine. If you will excuse me, I..."
"She has no one to see her in clinic, la! Very lonely. Can you go?"
I got away from the Malaysians and gave some thought to the conversation I had had with them. What they were telling me was that Gurdeep was under quarantine with chicken pox at the university clinic and needed company but they were unable to provide it because they had never been ill with the pox themselves. It didn't surprise me. They were all a cosseted lot. There was as much chicken pox in Malaysia as anywhere but they had somehow been insulated from it until they got to England.
As I had suffered each childhood illness going before I knew how to write down my name, there was no risk of me contracting chicken pox in the university clinic. I went to see Gurdeep on the following day and found her watching the Austrian Grand Prix in her quarantine room. For a woman who had scarcely permitted me the time of day before, she seemed surprisingly pleased to see me. She insisted I stayed and watched the race - which I did not strenuously object to doing. Her insights into motor racing were impressive. More impressive, though, was her eye for circuit design. "The more innovative circuits will be in places like Malaysia in the next ten years," she said. I told her that suffering chicken pox was no excuse for talking out of her arse. Gurdeep smiled and said "just you wait." The year was 1990.
Gurdeep was so right I wish I could find her now and apologise. Before the end of the decade the magnificent new Sepang circuit had opened in Selangor, Malaysia and the world was allowed to witness one of the most thrilling races of the last few years. The 1999 Malaysian Grand Prix was a sweet foretaste of things to come in Sepang. No race has quite measured up to it since but how many times do you get a man like Michael Schumacher so determined to nail down a point ("Hey look, you cretins, I might have been out for four months but I am not a double world champion for no reason!")?
Some say Lewis Hamilton may break Schumacher's many records. Possibly, but it is early days yet. Let us see how he gets on in Malaysia this weekend. You may be tempted to sacrifice this weekend's racing and do Eastery things instead but I would ill advise it. You might easily miss something for which you will kick yourself forever. So sod the festivities, get out of bed, switch on the telly and I'm sure you will,
Enjoy Malaysia!
Gitau
19 March 2008
posted by Gitau at 4:40 pm
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