Vettel wins in Valencia as Webber comes close to meeting his maker

I would like to say that I was so distraught after England’s embarrassing defeat by Germany in Bloemfontein on Sunday that I was unable to bring myself to comment on Sunday’s race in Valencia; but I know that anybody reading this will readily see through the lie. The truth is that I was too busy laughing at how a football association in a clever country could, yet again, be swindled with such ease. Like Sven Goran Eriksson before him, Fabio Capello must be tightly hugging himself and shaking with mirth as he goes to sleep each night. He realised pretty quickly that the English FA are about the only people in the world who do not know that England are crap at football. So, he took on an impossible job knowing fully well that he wouldn’t have to do it for very long. Before setting off for South Africa, he made sure he had signed a long term employment contract from which he could not be sacked without a payment of £12 million. Thereafter, banking his £12 million without doing any more work after June 2010 was simply a matter of waiting to see how many games into the tournament he would have to wait before England were booted out of the world cup.

Before my laughing fit, though, I watched the race in Valencia and was delighted to find myself proved wrong by events. Far from being mind-numbingly tedious, the race was quite exciting. Red Bull driver, Mark Webber, had probably the most spectacular car crash we have seen in years. Charging down the straight, he came up behind the much slower Lotus of Heikki Kovaleinen and, inexplicably decided to mount the rear of the Lotus at 180 mph. The Red Bull was flipped into the air scattering body parts and carbon fibre as it reached for the clouds, tossed around a few times, landed upside down (where the driver’s unenclosed body sits) and into the tyre wall with extreme violence. Seeing Webber climb out of that in one piece probably persuaded a few agnostics that there is a God somewhere and he is probably Australian.

Webber had started the race frustrated at himself for having failed to beat his team-mate, Sebastien Vettel, to pole position. In his mind what seemed to matter most was getting ahead of Vettel as soon as the lights went out. What he forgot was that it is sometimes more important to protect yourself from being overtaken than it is to overtake. In less time than it takes to say “what the ….!” Webber was eight cars down and fighting to remain within a point scoring position. This cannot have improved his state of mind and probably had a lot to do with the crash.

The resultant safety car episode produced the next big bit of drama. In a touch-and-go incident, Lewis Hamilton inadvertently overtook the safety car. For this he was penalised but McLaren were able to use the time allowed for serving penalties so that Hamilton came in seven laps later when the penalty made no difference to his final second position. All the teams exploit the ambiguity of the FIA rule book from time to time but none more so than the scarlet boys from Maranello. Imagine everyone’s disbelief, then when Ferrari driver, Fernando Alonso, took great exception to the Hamilton incident.

"It's a shame, not for us because this is racing, but for all the fans who came here to watch a manipulated race. It is the first time I have seen someone overtake the safety car," Alonso said, and repeated it for emphasis. All the kids that were in the stands know that you cannot pass [the safety car]…. I do not know what the penalty should be. I only know that when the safety car came out I was one metre behind Hamilton. I finished ninth, he finished second. I respected the rule, he didn't…I feel sorry for the public who have come here to watch this race – 70,000 fans came here to see the spectacle of Formula One and they have seen a race decided by the decisions…The attitude of the public is understandable – they were disgusted by what they were seeing and the injustices that were happening. There was a bottle on the track which is reaction that is not normal and it should not have happened."

Talk about the pot calling the kettle black! Ferrari complaining about manipulated races? Give me strength…As I mentioned previously, there is bad blood between the two former world champions.

That attack of verbal diarrhoea was really Alonso-speak for: “That little English bastard cheated me out of second place at my home Grand Prix and is now further ahead in the world championship. How dare he, the slimy, worthless toad!”

I enjoy these spats – they make for a more interesting championship.

The tope five after Sunday are as follows:

1. Lewis Hamilton 127

2. Jenson Button 121

3. Sebastian Vettel 115

4. Mark Webber 103

5. Fernando Alonso 98

The gap remains frighteningly close. So, if you have had enough of football or are English, at least there is something else to think about.

Gitau
29 June 2010

Get out your vuvuzelas for Valencia

The dying thoughts of Leon Trotsky, Vladimir Lenin’s compatriot in the Russian October Revolution, were “Life is beautiful…enjoy it to the full”. I listened to a conversation on BBC radio this past weekend that made me realise that, for lovers of televised sport, this is the sort of month which exemplifies what Trotsky was attempting to convey before some bastard decided to split his skull open with an ice axe and permanently put to an end the Bolshevik’s enjoyment of life.

A BBC journalist had presented himself at the grounds of the All England Lawn Tennis and Croquet Club on the day before the start of the annual Wimbledon fortnight and was speaking to a senior official of the Club.
“I’m in a bit of a quandary,” said the journalist, “I’d like to watch the tennis at Wimbledon – love it! – but I can’t bear to miss the football World Cup. Now, are you chaps going to do the decent thing and have large screens around the tennis courts so that fans like me can watch both?”
The official gasped as if he had been stung by a wasp. “What?” he exclaimed. “I beg your pardon. This is Wimbledon. What we show here is tennis. If you wish to see anything else, I suggest you go somewhere else.”
“But it’s the World Cup for God’s sake,” remonstrated the journalist, “be reasonable!”
There was a long pause which suggested that the official was attempting to compose himself. At length he spoke. “I reckon there is sufficient time for you to get on a plane to South Africa,” he hissed through clenched teeth.
“Oh well,” sighed the journalist, “England aren’t likely to get terribly far in the World Cup, so I won’t really be missing anything by staying here. I’ll just have to liven things up with this.” At this he reached into the recesses of his coat and extracted something. A very loud, rasping sound followed in short order.
“Good God!” exclaimed the official. “What in the name of anything sacred is that ghastly thing!”
“It’s my vuvuzela,” came the reply.
“Your what?”
“Vuvuzela.”
“And you intend to blow that vuvuwhatsit thing in here during the tennis?”
“But of course!”
“Right. We shall have to see about that!” Silence thereafter indicated that the official had then turned on his heel and left and we were left wondering what on earth he intended to do but felt safely reassured that it was not going to be mild.

The point is that there are currently several sound reasons for keeping your fridge stocked up with chilled lager. Apart from the World Cup and Wimbledon, the Australian cricket team is currently on tour in England, the English rugby team are playing a series of big games in the southern hemisphere and there is, of course, a Formula One race on in a few days. We are spoiled. Life is indeed beautiful.

The European Grand Prix will be held in Valencia this weekend. The word “European” is a clever ruse to disguise the fact that Spain is currently allowed to host two races on the Formula One calendar (the other being the Spanish Grand Prix in Barcelona). Spain is simply the latest one of a series of Western European countries to play this game. I was at first thrilled when it was announced that there was going to be a race in Valencia. My mind was filled with the possibility of a seaside track with the charm of Monaco or the beauty of the Albert Park in Melbourne. My enthusiasm turned to feelings of having been swindled when what eventually emerged was a Mickey Mouse circuit around an old dockyard that is so boring and unimaginative that it makes even awful Bahrain look as riveting as Silverstone. My frustration with the new track at Valencia was in no small part enhanced by the knowledge that Jerez in the south of Spain has a magnificent circuit which has been home to many superb races in the past and would have been a far worthier host of the European Grand Prix.

Still, the Valencia dockyard is the site of a race in the Formula One world championship in 2010. Given the nail-biting closeness and changeability of this season, one misses any race at one’s peril.

Having observed the progress made by individual drivers this and last season, it is now clear to me that the two best all round racers currently in Formula One are Lewis Hamilton and Fernando Alonso. The performance of the latter has been somewhat hampered by the fact that Ferrari have been labouring under a speed disadvantage to Red Bull and McLaren for most of this season. The evidence of the last race is that this is now beginning to be addressed by the engineers in Maranello. More power to the Italians I say! For nothing would be more thrilling than to have the Ferraris on equal terms with the other two leading teams.

This is of particular interest because Hamilton and Alonso have – in criminal courtroom parlance – “previous”. In Hamilton’s rookie year, Alonso joined McLaren in 2007 as a back-to-back double world champion and felt he deserved the kind of respect a powerful man is entitled to as of right. He did not receive respect from the perfidious English scoundrels who ran McLaren. What he instead had to endure was blatant favouritism of a young, undisciplined puppy. Alonso was deeply offended and chose to leave the team before the season was over.

If you have ever seen The Godfather, you will understand why it is so important to give respect. An undertaker called Amerigo Bonasera goes to see Don Corleone and asks for hoodlums who brutalised his daughter to be brought to justice through Corleone’s “system”. Corleone does not react with enthusiasm to the request:

You found paradise in America. You had a good trade, you made a good living. The police protected you and there were courts of law. So you didn't need a friend like me. Now you come and say "Don Corleone, give me justice." But you don't ask with respect. You don't offer friendship. You don't even think to call me "Godfather." You come into my house on the day my daughter is to be married and you ask me to do murder - for money….Bonasera, Bonasera, what have I ever done to make you treat me so disrespectfully? If you'd come to me in friendship, this scum who ruined your daughter would be suffering this very day. And if by some chance an honest man like yourself made enemies they would become my enemies. And then, they would fear you.

Think of it, an aggrieved Spaniard in equipment as good as or better than that of the Englishman who disobeyed all the rules of respect and you have an epic battle to witness.

Now, isn’t that worth setting aside a couple of hours on Sunday afternoon for?

Enjoy Valencia!

Gitau
24 June 2010

Lewis Hamilton, master of Montreal

There is a spring in the step of Lewis Hamilton that suggests a surge in his self-confidence; an assuredness of manner that should strike fear into the hearts of his competitors. Having won the world championship by the skin of his teeth in 2008, Hamilton then had a woeful 2009 season. Before the beginning of the current season there was reason to feel concern as to whether the young man’s state of mind was up to the challenges of another world championship campaign. He had severed professional ties with his father – a man who had moulded him from a tender-aged go-karting boy to a Formula One world championship – which seemed to suggest that something wasn’t entirely right with the lad. As if that was not unsettling enough, Hamilton had also split up with his girlfriend, Nicole, which added to the speculation about his frame of mind.

But Hamilton is clearly made of sterner stuff than the pundits believed. His performance in Canada this past weekend was faultless, extraordinary even. He qualified on Saturday - in a manner made famous by Ayrton Senna – by squeezing out a super-quick lap at the very last minute and nailing pole-position. He then drove a race on Sunday that demonstrated his superlative skill. If Hamilton has been accused of having a flaw it has been an inability to conserve his tyres and, by so doing, stay out of trouble. Whatever the gremlins were in Hamilton’s driving style which attacked tyres with alacrity, they have been despatched to the outer darkness where there is wailing and gnashing of teeth. A gamble by Red Bull that Hamilton would have to stop early for tyres was proved to be hopeless by a tyre conserving Hamilton who stayed out until well past the twentieth lap. Again as the race wound down, Hamilton cleverly managed rapidly graining tyres for twenty odd laps to the end. This is the sort of stuff we have previously seen from Jenson Button and it was feared by Hamilton fans to be the thing that would give Button the edge between the two. Not any more.

Perhaps some of this can be explained by the re-emergence of Hamilton’s Pussycat Doll. She was in Montreal after yesterday’s race looking radiant and brandishing a fan’s baby (a clever hint perchance?) as she watched her man squirt the podium with expensive champagne.

Button, meanwhile, drove as smooth a race as ever and we were treated to another all Brit McLaren one-two. In the post race interviews, the McLaren boys were giving every appearance of belonging to a mutual admiration club:

Hamilton: “Jenson did a great job and another one-two for us, so I am very happy and proud of the team.”

Button: “Another one-two for the team. Another one to this guy. I’d rather it was the other way around but I must say the team did a great job this weekend. Lewis put in a phenomenal lap yesterday which I couldn’t touch. But it is great to be here.”


The gap between the two is now so razor thin that either McLaren driver could emerge on top in November. What emerged from Canada, though, is that McLaren have now caught up with Red Bull.

Where this leaves the championship now is that any one of the top five could win it, methinks. We have had five different championship leaders thus far this season and it surely counts as one of the most challenging and difficult to predict ever. The momentum seems to be with Red Bull and McLaren for the moment, so unless Ferrari get their act sorted pretty quickly, it will be their third year in a row without winning a world championship.

The top 10 table looks like this:

1. Lewis Hamilton 109pts
2. Jenson Button 106
3. Mark Webber 103
4. Fernando Alonso 94
5. Sebastian Vettel 90
6. Nico Rosberg 74
7. Robert Kubica 73
8. Felipe Massa 67
9. Michael Schumacher 34
10. Adrian Sutil 23

From this it is becoming ever clearer that Michael Schumacher should hang up his helmet for good without further delay. Whatever it was that persuaded him to come out of retirement to mix it with the youngsters, it was a mistake. His performance yesterday was embarrassing. He did not even finish in the points while his Mercedes team-mate, Nico Rosberg, came a worthy sixth. Spare us any further misery, Mr Schumacher, and enjoy your millions quietly and in peace.

If you’re a Hamilton fan, send an urgent letter to Nicole Scherzinger imploring her not to miss any of the remaining races this year. Whatever magic Hamilton is getting from her, it is clearly working!

Gitau
14 June 2010

Challenging Canada

While living the bohemian existence of a Parisian Left Bank intellectual, I was often drawn to a seedy old bistro called Mélac where one had to walk through kitchens with boiling vats of French onion soup before one got to one’s table. After a few visits, I struck up a friendship with one of the waiters there. His name was Silvestre and he looked bad. He was tall and skinny, had bulbous eyes, buck teeth and badly pock-marked skin. His French was not particularly good either but I later learned that this was because he was not French but Québécois.

On days when Mélac wasn’t particularly busy, I explored a range of subjects with Silvestre as I tucked into my grilled pigs feet with béarnaise sauce and sipped at my Pastis. He was extremely worldly-wise and had an engaging sensitivity to human feelings that was refreshing in a city renowned for rudeness to foreigners – especially among the community of persons who wear black waistcoats and aprons and irritably wait on tables.

It transpired that Silvestre and I shared an interest in Formula One racing. One day, he very kindly invited me to his flat a couple of blocks away from the bistro to watch the Canadian Grand Prix, where we could imagine we were not in Paris but on the Île Notre-Dame in his home city of Montreal, as we downed Quebec beer.

Arriving at and being welcomed into Silvestre’s flat gave me a never-to-be-forgotten understanding of the expression “never judge a book by its cover”. Silvestre’s domestic arrangements were totally incongruous with the character of a city in Western Europe in the 1990s. He lived in cosy cohabitation with three women; happily sharing his bed with all of them. You might be forgiven for assuming that an ugly waiter with three girlfriends probably did not have the pick of the bunch. You are perhaps thinking that the three women were ugly, desperate people with low self-esteem and an aching desire for a little tenderness, albeit not on an exclusive basis. If you are, you are mistaken. All three women were stunningly beautiful, confident and intelligent.

I am not usually one to be at a loss for words – especially while enjoying as thrilling a motor race as the Canadian Grand Prix – but I was so staggered to discover my friend enjoying a lifestyle worthy of King Mswati III or Jacob Zuma in Paris that I was rendered speechless for the remainder of my time on the rue Léon-Frot. I ached to know how Silvestre did it but since everyone behaved as though there was nothing at all unusual in their arrangements, I neither requested nor received any explanation. On speculative whims since, I have tested various scenarios in my head but they have never amounted to any more than just that, speculation.

Speculation is rife as to which country’s football team may eventually win the world cup final in South Africa in a month’s time but before then we have the pleasure of lots of football matches and two races at classic circuits; the first being this weekend at the Circuit Gilles Villeneuve in Montreal - a welcome return to Canada after a year’s absence. I have never been physically in North America during this particular race, so one of its attractions for me has always been that it is always on television at the convenient hours of early evening – it is not always easy to block off two hours in the middle of a Sunday.

This may be evidence of a sadistic streak but I have always enjoyed a good F1 crash and Montreal is a place which almost guarantees you a corker. The circuit is tight with a particularly devilish final chicane which has a wall seemingly designed to cause accidents. Coming round the corner at speed with no run-off room usually means slamming your car into the wall if you are not careful. Even the most successful driver at this circuit, seven times winner Michael Schumacher, has smashed his car into that wall in a rare moment of lapsed concentration.

As the season revs up towards its halfway point the intrigues between teams and drivers is getting interesting. Any unbiased person watching the Turkish Grand Prix could see that the crash between the two Red Bull drivers, Sebastian Vettel and Mark Webber, was entirely the result of young Vettel’s impetuousness. His bosses, however, seem to value him so highly that they worry that giving him a bollocking for a mistake, or even suggesting that one was indeed made, might upset him so much that he chooses to leave the team. Christian Horner (the Red Bull team boss) and his cohorts mollycoddle the young German and hug him like a little girl even when he has manifestly cocked up. This is pathetic. Red Bull ought to take a leaf from the Frank Williams book on F1 driver management. Williams has less than zero time for prima donnas. If you drive for him, you do as you are told, accept responsibility for your mistakes and hang your head in shame while being bollocked. Anything less is sufficient to ensure marching orders out of his team. The list of drivers who have “enjoyed” this treatment is long. It includes illustrious names like Damon Hill and Juan Pablo Montoya. Because its management is so lily-livered, Red Bull now has to deal with the twin problem of a puffed-up Vettel and a disgruntled Webber.

But Red Bull is by no means alone in its troubles. Things do not look all-together rosy at McLaren or Mercedes. The two McLaren drivers are uncertain as to what exactly constitutes team orders. Lewis Hamilton was comfortably cruising towards the chequered flag in Turkey and had switched to fuel-saving mode when he saw the unwelcome sight of his team-mate, Jenson Button, coming up to overtake him. As far as Button was concerned, the race was still on and there was no need to conserve fuel yet. Neither driver is pleased.

Meanwhile at Mercedes, Michael Schumacher, has managed to push through design changes on the Mercedes car which suit his driving style over that of his team-mate, Nico Rosberg. Given that Rosberg was consistently kicking Schumacher’s arse until the changes were forced through, Rosberg is, understandably, furious!

Gentlemen, gentlemen, please do not lose sight of the fact that despite all appearances to the contrary, Formula One is and always has been a team sport.

While you enjoy the other team sporting event in South Africa, do allow yourself a little time to,

Enjoy Montreal!

Gitau
10 June 2010