A phoenix called Brawn and a star called Button

You would have to be well over seventy years old to have witnessed anything in Formula One like we did this weekend. Never since the days of Juan Manuel Fangio has a brand new team entered Formula One and won its maiden Grand Prix. I watched qualifying on Saturday half in disbelief when it became clear that either of the two Brawn cars was going to take pole position. In the dying minutes of qualifying I was at the edge of my seat unsure whether the top place would be taken by Jenson Button or Rubens Barrichello. Finally Button managed to outpace his team-mate by the tiniest of margins and the stage was set for what was to be an epic Australian Grand Prix. “Hmm,” I thought, “something is afoot here.”

Good qualifying pace does not always translate itself into race wins. After all, we have seen teams going for glory on Saturday in the certain knowledge that they didn’t stand a hope of winning the race. Fernando Alonso did this a few times last year in his Renault knowing full well that his car was nowhere near as good as the McLarens, BMWs or Ferraris but making sure that at least his name caught some headlines. This is the game I reckoned Ross Brawn, the brains behind Brawn GP, to be playing: make a big splash on day one and have everybody remember the newcomers but accept the inevitability of leaving Melbourne without gaining a single point.

I could not have been more wrong. The Brawn cars were not playing any showbiz game. Oh no. They came to Australia prepared to do battle and wiped the circuit with the opposition. And what a corker of a race it turned out to be. This is what Formula One is supposed to be about. Crashes, daredevil overtaking manoeuvres, stomach churning pit-stops, Australia had it all yesterday. But other than the race itself proving to be about as thrilling a motor race as you ever get in dry conditions, yesterday was fairy tale stuff. Even the most hard-hearted, anti-English curmudgeon would not have begrudged Jenson Button his outstanding victory or Rubens Barrichello his worthy second place.

Brawn GP has proved to be the phoenix that has arisen from the ashes of Honda’s Formula One world. What is outstanding is that the team did not even exist a month ago. Jenson Button – once seen as the wonder boy of English Formula One pride – had pretty much kissed goodbye to his career. A career which began with flair at Williams had proceeded with the odd flash of brilliance at BAR and then Honda but never seemed any more than lacklustre. If ever there was a man to answer the eternal question “is it the car or is it the driver?”, that man has to be Jenson Button. Give Button the right car and he will drive it with abandon. Put him in what the South African brethren call a “skorogoro” and he will be found somewhere at the back of the field. Similarly, it does not matter whether you put Kazuki Nakajima in a Ferrari or a Williams, he will still crash it.

Thinking in the shower this morning, I felt like kicking myself. I should have known Honda would be very good this year because Ross Brawn announced in June last year that his team was not bothering any more with their 2008 car but concentrating instead on developing the 2009. Since Brawn is a Honda without the badge, it is clear that they had a massive head start. Now here is the galling bit: I KNEW THIS! Imagine if I had placed £10 on Jenson Button winning the Australian Grand Prix. I probably would have been given stupid odds like 150:1. Well, que sera sera, I suppose…

I have always had a soft spot for Button. He is a likeable chap and has excellent taste in women. His current squeeze, lingerie model Jacinta Michibata, is gorgeous and of interesting heritage - her mother is Japanese and her Argentine father is of Spanish and Italian ancestry. What with Nicole Scherzinger adorning the McLaren garage, it would appear that the age of the exotic Formula One WAG is upon us. Hang on to your hats boys, it looks like this is going to be a rollercoaster…

While it is true to say that given the right equipment Button will perform at least as well as the very best, the same cannot be said of Lewis Hamilton. It has been acknowledged by everyone, including the McLaren engineers, that this year’s car is a pile of shite. But it does not seem to matter what car you give this young lad to drive – he will still wring its neck. The McLarens simply did not have the qualifying pace of their rivals and – as if this wasn’t bad enough – the car was a nightmare to drive. Still, come race day, Hamilton fought the car – and his rivals – to end up third having started eighteenth on the grid. That is nothing short of amazing. Hamilton’s superlative achievement may have gone somewhat unnoticed in the euphoria surrounding the Brawn cars but in all fairness he was yesterday’s driver of the day. He has opened his 2009 championship bid with six very handy points. Given that he expected to leave Australia empty handed, this is superb.

I sat back at the end of yesterday’s race with a massive grin on my face. I couldn’t help thinking that day’s like yesterday are the reason we love this sport so much. It looks like this is going to be a good season!

Gitau30 March 2009

Australia heralds a return to sensibility

I was inching my way home in the early hours of a chilly November day in 1991 when a woman came flying out of a window to the right of me screaming “Senna is still a twat!” and landed about ten inches before my feet. I had spent the evening in a dungeon nightclub in London with caged women in corners dancing in black leotards with skeletons painted on them, the heavy smell of cigarette and other smoke about me and in the company of very happy people. My mood was sunny, if the weather was not. My movements, though, were slow and deliberate.

The woman lying swearing at my feet struck me as a curiosity but I did not think further of it than realising that I had to get past her. As I slowly navigated my legs round her recumbent form I heard her yell something like “you miserable swine, you’re going to leave me here!” but it could have been an enthusiastic greeting. I will never know. What I do recall is sitting with a restorative cup of tea before a television screen showing motor racing scenes which seemed like complete pandemonium to me. Odd shaped vehicles were sliding all over a slippery track and a flood of biblical proportions was taking place before my eyes. I decided to seek the refuge of my bed. When I awoke many hours later, I realised I had been seeing scenes from the Australian Grand Prix which was ended prematurely in that year because of chaotic track conditions and Ayrton Senna was declared the winner.

Times have changed a little for me and that world famous race but there will be an Australian Grand Prix this weekend and a woman may well find herself flying through a window somewhere in the world but certainly not within my field of vision. I have awaited this race more keenly than most because a raft of rule changes has been introduced to Formula One which could result in an interesting shake-up of the sport. So radical are the changes that I think we are about to witness the beginning of the return to Formula One’s basics; to the days when rather basic pieces of kit raced very fast around simple circuits with spectators separated from racing cars by straw bales and fans sharing a pint with racing drivers in the local pub after a Grand Prix.

This is the way of the world in 2009. In everything from banking to construction to motor racing, humankind has realised that it was living through a generation of collective insanity. Everything was getting bigger, grander, more complicated and more expensive. “Build it higher,” the cry went out, “make it sleeker, shinier faster!” “But what about the money?” a little girl asked. “What the $&*£ do you know about anything? Shut up!” Well, think Dubai. Nuff said.

But like my daughter, Arabella, will realise when she blows her first balloon and is startled when it bursts in her face and she starts to cry, we were heading this way inevitably. The last time I attended a live race, the sheer commerciality of everything at the circuit – from stands offering super race cars for sale to babes flogging simple t-shirts at more than £30 a piece – made me feel sick. Less is more, so they say. So here we are at the beginning of the credit crunch Formula One season. Welcome aboard, dear friends. I hope you enjoy the ride!

If you haven’t read anything about the F1 rule changes yet, this paragraph is going to shock you. Here goes: in 2009 it is back to slick tyres (hooray!); no fancy aerodynamic bits are allowed to be attached to cars; engines must last at least three races; and race wins reign supreme in deciding who becomes world champion. There are also heavy restrictions on testing and some attempts at forcing cars to recycle energy. What this all means to me is that races ought to become more exciting. The need to be cautious about preserving engines is cancelled out by the utmost importance of race wins. We are told that overtaking will now be enhanced but this remains to be seen.

As ever, I choose to keep my thoughts to myself until there are skid marks visible on more than one circuit. There is far too much uncertainty about what the rule changes will mean for anything less than forecasting caution. I cannot see that any team will have the ability to seize such an early advantage that the championship is all but beyond reach five races into the season. We simply have never had this sort of uncertainty before. It appears that big boys like McLaren have been caught napping in development and now lag behind Honda successors Brawn Racing by a very long way. Things change very fast in Formula One, so let us see where we are four or five races hence.

The obsession in the local papers is a possible double world championship for Lewis Hamilton. Were this to happen it would be the first ever for a native of these shores - after all, the French, Germans, Argentinians, Italians, Finns and Brazilians have done it, so why can’t the plucky old Brits? My advice to these starry-eyed people is easily heard outside any English pub at about closing time on any Friday night: “Leave it out, mate!”

It is an early morning race and the weather isn’t exactly clement in London but I have every intention of getting up for it. Credit crunch notwithstanding, it is the first race of the season and perhaps as good a time as any to crack open a nicely chilled sauvignon blanc from underneath the world. If you watch British television (or receive a live feed to your television through it) the best news about 2009 is that ITV and F1 are no more and Auntie BBC is back in town. This means live uninterrupted, clear-sighted, unbiased, sensible, sublime coverage. Hallelujah!

Enjoy Australia!

Gitau
27 March 2009