Mercedes takes on Hamilton

The president of Mercedes-Benz motor sport, Norbert Haug, observed his secretary walk into his office at lunchtime bearing a tray laden with a plate of Bavarian sausage and a stein of lager with the gratitude of someone in sore need of refreshment. He was invariably afflicted by severe hunger pangs when his brain was taxed, and the morning had exacted heavy demands on his grey matter. The food was as welcome to him as nourishment would be to a man who had not eaten for three days and he promptly fell to his luncheon, savouring the bratwurst as it slid down his throat, while musing over the morning he had endured.

As Haug sipped his lager, his eyes rested upon the print on his wall of Hans Holbein’s famous painting of Anne of Cleves, the German noblewoman who became the fourth wife of the powerful and ruthless King Henry VIII of England. Not outwardly striking, Anne was resolute and the most fortunate of Henry VIII’s six wives; she was the one that got away. Haug liked to think of himself and his racing team as bearing some of Anne’s qualities. Understated of appearance, yet consistently successful.

Long before the age of photography, Henry had no visual representation of the woman to whom he was betrothed, so he commissioned the famous German artist, Hans Holbein, to paint a portrait of her so that he could have some idea of what she looked like.  The result was the elegant, yet simple painting which now hangs, not in London’s National Gallery, but in the Musée du Louvre in Paris.

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Henry fell in love with the evenly balanced calm features of Holbein’s Anne but, when he finally laid eyes on her in the flesh, could not bear the sight of the real Anne. This probably saved her life. “She is nothing so fair as she hath been reported,” complained a frustrated Henry. Nevertheless, the only fate Anne “suffered”, was banishment from the Royal bed and an annulment of her marriage to Henry after only seven months, on the grounds of non-consummation. She thereafter remained on friendly terms with Henry as “the King’s Beloved Sister”.

Haug’s morning had been unsettled by a particularly difficult conversation he had been forced to undergo with Michael Schumacher. After three spectacularly unsuccessful seasons at Mercedes, it had been decided that fresh blood was needed in the Brackley-based F1 team (yes, it is based in England, not Germany) to rejuvenate it. The man who had to inform Schumacher that he was being given the old heave-ho was none other than the avuncular Norbert Haug.

To say that Schumacher had reacted badly to the news would be like describing a tropical thunderstorm as “a bit of drizzle outside”. Schumacher had cut up rough.  An unprintable stream of German invective had been showered upon Haug in the most fruity language possible. Among many other things, Haug had been described as fat, spineless and having porridge sloshing about in his skull where brains should normally be found. The language was still ringing in Haug’s ears when his phone rang to inform him that he had a visitor.

“Who is it?” he asked

“An American. She says she is a friend of yours.”

“She?”

He paused for a moment’s thought before shrugging his shoulders and saying “okay, show her in.”

When the American lady sashayed into his office, Norbert Haug’s sharp intake of breath was clearly audible. As quickly as his large form would allow, he extricated himself from behind his desk and extended his arm to indicate that she was welcome to occupy one of the two settees in the right hand corner. Loosening his shirt so as to afford his large belly a degree of relief from embarrassment, Haug sat opposite the lady smiling broadly. She demurely declined his offer of refreshment with the sweetest of smiles.

“Well, Nicole, how nice to see you, “said Haug, when it became apparent to him that the lady opposite him had no apparent intention of speaking.” I haven’t seen you at the racing circuits for a little while now,”

“I’ve been a little busy of late, Norbert,” said Nicole.

There was an awkward silence as Nicole crossed and uncrossed her legs with her eyes fixed on Haug’s face.

At length Haug cleared his throat.

“What brings you to Baden-Württemberg?” Haug asked awkwardly.

Nicole smiled coquettishly.

“I don’t think it’s a secret that Lewis isn’t happy at McLaren,” she said, “and it is more than likely that you are speaking to his management team already.”

“Hmm?”

“Well, I’m not here to deal with any of that. I want you to understand that Lewis is more than just a talented racing driver. He’s like me, a global brand. The world knows about him and loves him. A GLOBAL brand. That’s important, Norbert, very important.”

“I am not sure I understand you very well, Nicole.”

Nicole got up and slowly walked to the door. Turning her head slightly, with one hand on the door and with her hair partially concealing her eyes, she said “I think you understand me perfectly well, Norbert.”

With that, a flutter of the eyelids and a kittenish smile, she was gone.

Waiting for Nicole in the car park outside was a large chauffer--driven car with blackened windows. In the back seat, employing the additional anonymity of, a large hat, a pair of sunglasses and a black leather jacket with the collars turned up, was none other than Mr Lewis Hamilton himself. Nicole climbed into the car and began talking immediately.

“Now, you chicken-livered little shit, I’ve done the difficult bit. The rest is up to you. Get on the phone to Simon Fuller [the CEO of XIX Management which manages Hamilton and other celebrities] and tell him to demand £20 million a year and not agree to a ball-breaking, fucked-up, McLaren-type deal which stops you being on the cover of GQ. Right?”

“Anything you say, Nicole.”

 

Haug understood Nicole’s message perfectly. Mercedes have signed Hamilton on as their driver for three years from next year and are paying twice what McLaren were offering. The McLaren restrictions on drivers’ entitlement to earn money in their private capacity do not apply at Mercedes, so Hamilton will be free to treble his earnings by exploiting his global celebrity appeal. Humiliatingly at McLaren, trophies awarded for podium places at Grands Prix are the property of the team, not the driver. This is not the case at Mercedes, so Hamilton will be free to build up a trophy cabinet – if he can perform well in races. In short, Mercedes have freed Hamilton from his handcuffs. Whether or not they can deliver him a car and a competent team with which to challenge for the world championship remains to be seen.

  

In the meantime, there is the awkwardness of the rest of this season at McLaren. We shall see at Suzuka how this pans out.

Gitau

4 October 2012