The Nürburgring and the end of the affair
Remember the wizard in The Wonderful Wizard of Oz? He was supposed to be this magical being who could perform impressive sorcery. Such was his mystique that Dorothy, the heroine of the story, was convinced the wizard could give the Scarecrow a brain, the Tin Woodman a heart and the Cowardly Lion courage. Like many an impressionable child around the world, as a boy I was at first bitterly disappointed and then angry when it all turned out to be a big con. The powerful wizard was just a little old man hiding behind a screen. He had no power and we all felt terribly cheated. Any parent will happily tell you this for free: children don’t like to be cheated; it upsets them a lot.
Well, the world of Formula One has been childlike in its ignorance for many years. Two charlatans decided to form a double headed wizard and have a little fun. The screen they hid behind has now fallen away and their wicked world is laid bare.
Max Mosley, the first of the wizard’s heads, is a British aristocrat and classically trained Barrister. By sheer force of his imperious personality and a little help from his mate, Bernie Ecclestone, the other of the two heads, he managed to seize control of the Fédération Internationale de l'Automobile's (FIA), the world motor sport governing body, nearly two decades ago. As president of the FIA, Mosley enjoys tremendous power. His organisation determines who can participate in motor races, sets the racing and car design rules and even adjudicates when disputes arise.
Last year Mosley, by his own hand, destroyed his position of authority. Actually, that last sentence is not quite accurate. It was not Mosley’s hands that destroyed him but those of four professional whip-wielding dominatrices (who had been generously paid for the privilege). When a video film of the proceedings was made available to the world, Mosley’s life was, in his own words, completely ruined. You can scarcely be a figure of commanding authority and the recipient of great respect when the whole world has seen a film of you bollock-naked with your bum being mercilessly whipped by some tart in a Nazi uniform. Notwithstanding Mosley’s protestations during his subsequent (successful) court case, that just isn’t the way the world works.
Mosley’s detractors within the F1 paddock – a very significant majority as things turned out - smelled blood and chose 2009 as their moment to strike. Mosley arbitrarily attempted to impose tight budget caps on the F1 teams which the team leaders considered to be impudent. It was, so they thought, an attempt to tell them how they could spend their own money. Damned cheek! When Mosley tried to brow-beat them into agreement in his dictatorial manner, they did not feel intimidated in the slightest. To show how much they thought of Mosley’s tough talking, they despatched the flamboyant Flavio Briatore to the television cameras to remind the world that this was a man who liked paying hookers to whip his arse. Mosley was defeated. At the end of June he accepted that the world had changed for ever for him and agreed to leave the FIA at the end of his current term in October this year.
Bernie Ecclestone never had the eloquence or presence of his friend. On a good day he looks like the evil, scheming dwarf in Rumpelstilstkin. Ecclestone’s method of achieving success was through money; he had sackloads of it. It earned him the ownership of Formula One, unimaginable global influence and even a 6’2” blonde model for a wife. Even sackloads of wonga is never enough for a greedy man. In time honoured fashion, greed proved to be Eccelstone’s undoing and the factor that led to his screen falling away.
When one by one the traditional Grand Prix circuits in Europe and North America began to grow tired of being fleeced by Ecclestone, he dropped them and found less scrupulous people in shady places who were prepared to fill his pockets with more and more gold. But this was not enough for Ecclestone as life was getting personally complicated for him. As he grew older and more devilish looking, his trophy wife, Slavica, became more and more demanding. To keep a lid on things, Ecclestone sold Formula One to a strictly business private equity venture called CVC but negotiated a deal whereby he would be allowed to continue to run the show. Unlike Ecclestone’s shady friends in Bahrain and Abu Dhabi, CVC were not in the game for the glamour and prestige of Formula One. Hardly; what they wanted were huge dollops of wonga regularly. Ecclestone’s continued presence was, therefore, agreeable to CVC for as long as the money rolled in.
Such money could only come from ticket sales to the vast edifices Ecclestone’s shady friends had built in the least likely of places. This, unfortunately, was not forthcoming. F1 fans are picky about where they choose to spend weekends watching cars being driven very fast – especially during a recession. They don’t particularly care for far away places where their girlfriends’ expensive hairdos will be sullied by swirling sand. This was demonstrated all too clearly in two consecutive races this year. The contrasting television pictures from the Turkish and British Grands Prix were laughable. While at the first in sunny Istanbul, yawning gaps were to be seen around the stands in the circuit, at the second in windy Northhamptonshire, chaps had to find accommodation for their girlfriends on their laps. Fans were voting against Ecclestone’s machinations with their feet. Inevitably, the gentlemen at CVC got on the phone to Ecclestone and gave him the bollocking of his life.
Without Slavica’s bosom to cry into (she left him last year and took most of his cash away with her), Ecclestone snapped. A week before this weekend’s German Grand Prix, Ecclestone gave a press interview in which he put the boot into Jews in general and professed his love for Adolf Hitler as a man who “got things done”. My first thoughts on reading about this were, “Oh my God, Bernie you stupid old goat, what have you gone and done now?”
Germany is a country only now learning to feel some pride about itself after more than sixty years of offering apologies for its behaviour during the Second World War. Uttering words like “Hitler” or “Führer” in Germany is almost guaranteed to get you lynched. To do so when the F1 teams – including two prominent German ones (Mercedes and BMW) - are limbering up for a race at the Nürburgring is, therefore, an act of suicide. Ecclestone, dear Ecclestone….
The sum total of all of the above is simply this: Max Mosley and Bernie Ecclestone are f***ed.
The future of Formula One is very uncertain. Mull these things over as you sink back into your chairs with your Becks lager and,
Enjoy the Nürburgring!
Gitau
9 July 2009
Well, the world of Formula One has been childlike in its ignorance for many years. Two charlatans decided to form a double headed wizard and have a little fun. The screen they hid behind has now fallen away and their wicked world is laid bare.
Max Mosley, the first of the wizard’s heads, is a British aristocrat and classically trained Barrister. By sheer force of his imperious personality and a little help from his mate, Bernie Ecclestone, the other of the two heads, he managed to seize control of the Fédération Internationale de l'Automobile's (FIA), the world motor sport governing body, nearly two decades ago. As president of the FIA, Mosley enjoys tremendous power. His organisation determines who can participate in motor races, sets the racing and car design rules and even adjudicates when disputes arise.
Last year Mosley, by his own hand, destroyed his position of authority. Actually, that last sentence is not quite accurate. It was not Mosley’s hands that destroyed him but those of four professional whip-wielding dominatrices (who had been generously paid for the privilege). When a video film of the proceedings was made available to the world, Mosley’s life was, in his own words, completely ruined. You can scarcely be a figure of commanding authority and the recipient of great respect when the whole world has seen a film of you bollock-naked with your bum being mercilessly whipped by some tart in a Nazi uniform. Notwithstanding Mosley’s protestations during his subsequent (successful) court case, that just isn’t the way the world works.
Mosley’s detractors within the F1 paddock – a very significant majority as things turned out - smelled blood and chose 2009 as their moment to strike. Mosley arbitrarily attempted to impose tight budget caps on the F1 teams which the team leaders considered to be impudent. It was, so they thought, an attempt to tell them how they could spend their own money. Damned cheek! When Mosley tried to brow-beat them into agreement in his dictatorial manner, they did not feel intimidated in the slightest. To show how much they thought of Mosley’s tough talking, they despatched the flamboyant Flavio Briatore to the television cameras to remind the world that this was a man who liked paying hookers to whip his arse. Mosley was defeated. At the end of June he accepted that the world had changed for ever for him and agreed to leave the FIA at the end of his current term in October this year.
Bernie Ecclestone never had the eloquence or presence of his friend. On a good day he looks like the evil, scheming dwarf in Rumpelstilstkin. Ecclestone’s method of achieving success was through money; he had sackloads of it. It earned him the ownership of Formula One, unimaginable global influence and even a 6’2” blonde model for a wife. Even sackloads of wonga is never enough for a greedy man. In time honoured fashion, greed proved to be Eccelstone’s undoing and the factor that led to his screen falling away.
When one by one the traditional Grand Prix circuits in Europe and North America began to grow tired of being fleeced by Ecclestone, he dropped them and found less scrupulous people in shady places who were prepared to fill his pockets with more and more gold. But this was not enough for Ecclestone as life was getting personally complicated for him. As he grew older and more devilish looking, his trophy wife, Slavica, became more and more demanding. To keep a lid on things, Ecclestone sold Formula One to a strictly business private equity venture called CVC but negotiated a deal whereby he would be allowed to continue to run the show. Unlike Ecclestone’s shady friends in Bahrain and Abu Dhabi, CVC were not in the game for the glamour and prestige of Formula One. Hardly; what they wanted were huge dollops of wonga regularly. Ecclestone’s continued presence was, therefore, agreeable to CVC for as long as the money rolled in.
Such money could only come from ticket sales to the vast edifices Ecclestone’s shady friends had built in the least likely of places. This, unfortunately, was not forthcoming. F1 fans are picky about where they choose to spend weekends watching cars being driven very fast – especially during a recession. They don’t particularly care for far away places where their girlfriends’ expensive hairdos will be sullied by swirling sand. This was demonstrated all too clearly in two consecutive races this year. The contrasting television pictures from the Turkish and British Grands Prix were laughable. While at the first in sunny Istanbul, yawning gaps were to be seen around the stands in the circuit, at the second in windy Northhamptonshire, chaps had to find accommodation for their girlfriends on their laps. Fans were voting against Ecclestone’s machinations with their feet. Inevitably, the gentlemen at CVC got on the phone to Ecclestone and gave him the bollocking of his life.
Without Slavica’s bosom to cry into (she left him last year and took most of his cash away with her), Ecclestone snapped. A week before this weekend’s German Grand Prix, Ecclestone gave a press interview in which he put the boot into Jews in general and professed his love for Adolf Hitler as a man who “got things done”. My first thoughts on reading about this were, “Oh my God, Bernie you stupid old goat, what have you gone and done now?”
Germany is a country only now learning to feel some pride about itself after more than sixty years of offering apologies for its behaviour during the Second World War. Uttering words like “Hitler” or “Führer” in Germany is almost guaranteed to get you lynched. To do so when the F1 teams – including two prominent German ones (Mercedes and BMW) - are limbering up for a race at the Nürburgring is, therefore, an act of suicide. Ecclestone, dear Ecclestone….
The sum total of all of the above is simply this: Max Mosley and Bernie Ecclestone are f***ed.
The future of Formula One is very uncertain. Mull these things over as you sink back into your chairs with your Becks lager and,
Enjoy the Nürburgring!
Gitau
9 July 2009
posted by Gitau at 12:25 pm
2 Comments:
I´d always wondered what the plural for dominatrix was.
As for Bernie, I think it´s FOTA that will ultimately end his reign
Gitau,
See below.
http://www.ft.com/cms/s/0/4252c758-6f10-11de-9109-00144feabdc0.html
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