Categories
2013 Racing Season

Monaco/Indy Recap

After 662 miles of intense racing and 6+ hours of being glued to the television yesterday, I feel compelled to jot down a few observations and dole out a few awards on racing’s biggest weekend of the year.

Overall I would rate Monaco a 6/10 and Indy a 8.5/10.  We were headed for a perfect 10/10 at The Brickyard until Dario understeered into the wall with 3 laps to go, depriving millions around the globe a last lap shootout that would have been one for the ages.  Marco, Munoz, RHR and TK were all poised to fight to the stripe and I’m pretty confident a photo finish and an ambulance were going to be required had the track stayed green.

Monaco is always a joy to watch simply because it’s one of the more scenic spots on the globe and the track layout turns the best drivers in the world into impatient cabbies.  It’s almost impossible to pass the car in front so when somebody ratchets up the nerve to have a go and pulls it off successfully, it’s worthy of a fist pump and a karate kick.

So without further ado, here are a few awards:

Monaco-

  • The Ayrton Senna award for demonstrating complete mastery of the Principality: Nico Rosberg
  • The Kimbo Slice/Jean Alesi award for displaying street fighting spirit: Sergio Perez
  • The Andrea De Cesaris award for crashing: Pastor Maldonado (with an assist from Max Chilton)
  • The David Copperfield/John Watson award for magically moving up through the field: Paul di Resta (17th grid to 9th)
  • The Nigel Mansell award for leaving the track under medical supervision: Felipe Massa
  • The Mark Webber award for being the left out teammate: Lewis Hamilton
  • The Ryan Gosling award for being the new “It” man on the scene: Adrian Sutil
  • The Scott Norwood award for choking: Romain Grosjean

Indy-

  • The Kevin Cogan award for crashing out early: JR Hildebrand
  • The Shakira/Juan Pablo Montoya award for being the next South American Sensation: Carlos Munoz
  • The Ghost Like Swayze award for not being visible but making a huge impression: Justin Wilson
  • The Rick Mears award for demonstrating complete oval mastery: Tony Kanaan
  • The Michael Andretti “Nearly Man” award for looking perfect but suffering a silly problem: AJ Allmendinger
  • The Meryl Streep award for Best Female in a lead role: Ana Beatriz
  • The Dennis Vitolo award for brain-fade resulting in a mangled car : Sebastian Bourdais

Final 5 Thoughts:

Every time I see Alex Zanardi I feel joy.  That guy is a treasure and the most inspirational human I’ve ever witnessed.

If Indy is the final race for Oriol Servia this season that is a shame.   He currently sits 9th in the points!

It will be interesting to see if Mercedes cured their tire degradation issues with their illegal test or was Monaco just an aberration?

Has Marco Andretti finally ironed out his weaknesses and become the favorite for the title?

Is Nico Rosberg the best driver on the grid?  He handled Schumacher with ease the past two seasons and looks to have the upper hand on Lewis Hamilton at the moment.  He’s only 6th in points and is 15 behind Lewis, but looking into the the situation a little deeper reveals a few interesting facts:

  • In Melbourne he was on the same winning two stop strategy as Kimi when he had a mechanical (Lewis P5)
  • In Malaysia he clearly did a better job managing his tires than Lewis but had to settle for 4th due to team orders
  • He had suspension failure in China while Lewis finished P3
  • In Bahrain he was on pole but faded to P9 with tire issues (Lewis finished P5 – 6 seconds ahead)
  • In Spain he was again on pole and finished P6 (Lewis P12)
  • Monaco – Pole and lights to flag victory (Lewis P4)

 

Be sure to check out the Formula Facial Hair post below!

 

 

 

 

 

Categories
Drivers

Formula Facial Hair

What do you get when you have a wealthy young man involved in a glamorous yet extremely dangerous profession that sends him around the world to race the finest cars and rub shoulders with royalty, business tycoons, politicians, rock stars, Hollywood glitterati and throngs of beautiful women?  What happens when a young man becomes a hero to his countrymen and is asked to demonstrate incomprehensible courage by strapping back into a car after witnessing one of his colleagues or friends perish? My answer, of course, is some really cool facial hair.

 

Here is a brief look back at some of the drivers who took personal grooming to a whole new level from the swashbuckling 60’s and 70’s to the impeccably clean corporate image of the 21st century.

 

Mustaches:

Clay Regazzoni:  I have to admit that I never got to see Mr. Regazzoni drive a car in person but I’ve always been a fan based on the pictures.  I mean, is the man in the photo below a factory Ferrari F1 driver or Brando in the Godfather?  That ‘stache and steely glare would drill holes into back of the helmet of the driver trying to keep him at bay.  And after a day at the track I envision Clay driving his Ferrari up to the front of a fine restaurant with a beautiful companion on his arm and entertaining the patrons with stories over fine cognac and Cuban cigars late into the evening.

 

Worlds Most Interesting Man
Worlds Most Interesting Man

 

Keke Rosberg: The casual observer may look at the picture below and mistake it as a promotional poster for a new porno movie titled, “Formula Wonderdong”, but it is in fact 1982 World Champion Keke Rosberg chilling in Rio.  When Keke wasn’t taking a drag off a Marlboro he was pushing his car to the limit as I witnessed at The Peraltada 180 degree corner in Mexico City.  Lap after lap he would make me flinch as he dealt with 150mph oversteer while hurling right at our grandstand.  Study the photo!  He was the epitome of cool!

 

 

Sure
Sure

 

Nigel Mansell: The Peoples Champion!  The Isle of Man Iron Man!  Il Leone!  Nigel had the look of your next door neighboor but don’t let those bushy brows and woolly stache fool you.  When he put his visor down he drove like a man posessed and could wring a cars neck with the best of them.  He was one of the few drivers whose emotions in the cockpit were evident for all to see and when he had the team and the crowd on his side, he could produce charges and results that seemed unfathomable.  Also prone to public whining and theatrical displays of pain, Nigel was sublime entertainment.

 

Peoples Champ
Peoples Champ

 

Graham Hill: Another driver before my time but I would place Graham, an Officer of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire, on the “Most Interesting Man” list every day of the week.  A two time world champion, Indy 500 and Le Mans winner, Graham always looked like he had his audience captivated with his wit and stories of danger and hi jinks.  Oh that and a beautifully manicured mustache!

 

Classic
Classic

 

Honorable Mention: Fernando Alonso- Fernando is one of the all time great drivers and arguably one of the all time fastest growers of facial hair.  He can be standing on the podium clean shaven in Barcelona and a fortnight later can be seen sporting a solid stache in the Royal Box in Monaco.  The problem is he just doesn’t have the courage to keep one for long when that may be just what he needs to finally cause Vettel to crack.

 

Not Too Shabby
Not Too Shabby

 

 

 

Beards:

John Watson: Watson was always a personal favorite of mine after watching him win the 1983 Long Beach GP from 22nd on the grid and later that summer I was lucky enough to witness his charge from 15th on the grid to 3rd at Zandvoort with a normally aspirated Cosworth!  Looking at this photo, if somebody told me that this was the former bass player for Jethro Tull I wouldn’t have doubted it.  Sadly, Watson had to shave this beauty after losing a bet with his team owner Roger Penske after winning the ’76 Austrian GP.

 

 

Well Groomed
Well Groomed

Harald Ertl:  I have to admit I know next to nothing about Harald Ertl the F1 driver but that beard elevates him to the top of the Formula Facial Hair list.  He looks like a man that would be more at home in the beer halls of Munich sporting lederhosen than trying to stuff all that hair into a balaclava.  But the records show that he did score 6 top 10 finishes and was one the brave men on the scene who pulled Niki Lauda from his flaming wreck at the Nurburgring.

 

The Winner
The Winner

Honorable Mention: Nick Heidfield- I always thought that Quick Nick was an underrated driver who held his own against teammates such as Raikkonen, Alesi, Kubica, Webber, Massa and Frentzen.  In fact he has the dubious record of scoring the most points without a win in F1 history.  Towards the end of his career when it was clear that he was never going to win a title, Nick went a little hippie-grunge and let it all just grow.

 

Done with being corporate
Done with being corporate

 

Chops/Side Burns:

Jackie Stewart: Everybody knows Jackie as one of the all time greats, a successful team owner, ABC Wide World of Sports announcer, corporate pitchman, and one of the pioneers of the safety movement that led to major track improvements, but few speak about Jackie the fashion maven.  Back in the day Jackie was as cool as anybody on the grid and I still quote an old GP VHS tape where he states,

 

“A race car is like a woman. It’s very sensitive. It’s very nervous. It’s very highly strung. Sometimes it responds very nicely. Sometimes it responds very viciously. Sometimes, to get the best out of it, you have to coax it and almost caress it to do the things you want it to do. And even after you’ve done all these things and the car is doing exactly as you want it to do, it will immediately and with no warning change its mind and do something very suddenly and very abruptly.”

Brilliant!

3 Time Champ
3 Time Champ

 

Francois Cevert:  Francois had the world at his fingertips.  With his silver screen looks, French accent and top notch driving skills, Francois was the very essence of a playboy.  Tragically his life was cut short at Watkins Glen in ‘74 but a few friends and I honored him by inventing a cocktail in his name and had it served at the Royal Oak in San Francisco, CA back in the late ‘90’s.  It felt pretty damn cool to walk up to the bar and say, “I’ll have 3 more Francois Cevert’s please.”

The Protege
The Protege

 

Emerson Fittipaldi:  I was too young to witness Emmo’s F1 years when he looked like a character out of Planet of the Apes and scooped two titles but I did get a heavy dose of the legend in his CART years.  He was the man who inspired a generation of Brazilians to become race drivers and built an empire back home in Brazil.  I still laugh over Emmo refusing the ceremonial milk in the Indy 500 winners circle so he could drink orange juice to promote the citrus industry back home.  “No Milk, no Milk!”

 

Neil Young's Cousin?
Neil Young’s Cousin?

 

Honorable Mention: Heinz Harald Frentzen- I’ve always been a fan Frentzen, the son of an undertaker who rose up the ladder as Schumacher’s main rival on and off the track.  Schumi may have beat Heniz to land a GP drive and had a bit more success in the premier category,  but HHF did manage to beat Michael to win the love of Corinna Betsch, who eventually became Corinna Schumacher. Frentzen was always a cool customer and had a great year with Jordan in 1999 when he unexpectedly took third in the championship, sideburns and all.

 

Modern Cool
Modern Cool

 

Categories
Drivers

Jean Alesi

Jean Alesi is my favorite driver of all time.  You may scoff at the notion of me idolizing a driver with 1 F1 victory when luminaries such as Ayrton Senna, Michael Schumacher or Fernando Alonso are there for the taking but to my buzzardly eyes, Alesi was the cat’s pajamas.  He was all heart, all passion, and he was one of the few who realized that he was more than just a driver.  He was an entertainer with millions around the globe living vicariously through him.

I once spent a Thursday night in the parking lot at Magny-Cours listening to thousands of delirious Frenchmen yelling “oui oui oui Alesi” into the wee hours of the morning and the next day when the sun arose, Alesi wasted no time fueling our passion.  He had his Ferrari primed at the pit exit revving to go the split second the track went green and for a few seconds we were treated to the glorious sound of a V-12 F1 engine at 19,000rpm all alone on a track.  For those in the know, this sound alone can trigger the spread of goose bumps throughout the body and can occasionally lead to tears and/or uncontrollable laughter.  We waited tensely listening to his throttle modulations from the distance until he came barreling down to our corner at amazing speeds for the first lap of a weekend on cold tires.  At the apex he started waving enthusiastically, turned his head to look at the crowd and almost incited a riot as he dropped the hammer and gave us a 1st,2nd and 3rd gear rev limiter burnout with one hand in the air.  There is no other driver that I’ve ever seen that would contemplate such behavior.

I always got the sense that he was driving for the pure pleasure of pushing an F1 car to the limit.  Who else would sign to drive a back of the grid Prost F1 after having been a Ferrari driver?  While some such as Senna or Schumi raced to quench their insatiable competitiveness and others raced to gain extreme personal wealth, Alesi was more akin to the big wave soul surfer who everybody deeply respects but is never considered a threat to be a contest winner.   He wasn’t in the cockpit tabulating championship point

Another Day at the Office
Another Day at the Office

scenarios and thinking about making ride height adjustments.  If there was a problem he would simply just drive around it, offer a quick assessment to his engineer through the international driver sign language of wild hand gesticulations and leave the track early for an evening at leisure.  I seriously doubt he ever stayed in the garage with the mechanics and engineers pouring over data until midnight ala Schumacher.  He was an artist in a type-A world.  Sicilian in heritage and French by birth, Alesi barely even spoke English while all of his contemporaries were fluent.  In many ways, I feel like he was a continuation of another brilliant natural talent that occupied the scarlet red #27 a decade earlier.

My first hero was Gilles Villeneuve.  Standing at the bottom of the Linden Ave plunge for the first Friday morning practice of the 1981 Long Beach GP, I was instructed by my father to watch for the red 27.  Sure enough, while most drivers were taking their sweet time getting heat into their slicks on the dirty street surface, Gilles crested the hill with opposite lock and the Ferrari turbo bouncing off the rev limiter.  A few laps later he spun right in front of us but instantly flicked the car into a 180 spin and set off in a white cloud of tire smoke.  I was hooked.

It was a similar feeling being one of the proud few in the grandstands for the season opening race of the 1990 season through the streets of downtown Phoenix, Az.  Of course we were all there to see Senna, Prost, Mansell and Piquet.  These four men had dominated the 80’s, winning a combined 7 championships and 87 of the 156 races held over the 10 year span.  But it was the young Alesi that had his nimble Tyrrell Cosworth dancing on the ragged edge on the low grip, bumpy street surface.  He was a known commodity having won the F3000 title and scoring a 4th place finish in his first ever GP the year before, but as the lights went green and Alesi pounced from 4th to 1st into turn one, he was suddenly a revelation.

Alesi quickly built a big advantage but as the race settled into a rhythm, Senna was there in second managing his tires and looming just a little bit larger each time Alesi looked in his mirrors.  Alesi was still driving qualifying laps and would often kiss the exit wall of the last corner with a little flick oversteer, but the all too familiar site of Senna on a charge was about to become a reality.  On lap 34 Senna

Stalked by Ayrton
Stalked by Ayrton

was on the gearbox of Alesi as they crossed the stripe and used the grunt of the Honda V10 to get into the slipstream and reach the apex of turn 1 in the lead but by turn two, Alesi miraculously turned the tables and reclaimed the lead with a forceful move up the inside that even the mighty Senna could not have anticipated.  This was like an unknown boxer getting floored by Ali only to get up off the canvas and floor Ali seconds later.  The next lap Senna made the same move and again Alesi fought him for every inch of track for 4 corners like a back alley street brawler.  It was a dazzling display that earned the praise of Senna and vaulted Alesi immediately to the top of my list.

It was also a performance worthy of being offered contracts to drive for Ferrari or Williams in 1991. We all know which way this turned out.  Passion overrode practicality and Alesi signed to drive for the Scuderia just as Adrian Newey designed Williams cars were poised to embark on world domination by winning the constructors titles in ’92, 93, 94, 96 and 97.  Meanwhile Ferrari were entering a period of technical incompetence that even the brilliant Alain Prost could not overcome and subsequently led to him being fired after he publicly stated that his Ferrari handled worse than a truck!

Alesi was just a bit player in a messy Italian soap opera over the next few years but he still drove with passion and a heavy right foot that endeared him to the legions of Tifosi around the world.  There were the occasional displays of brilliance in tricky rain conditions or lightning quick starts, but the all too familiar sight of a red car going backwards across a gravel trap or pulling off the circuit with smoking exhausts was the reality. And then there were the heartbreaks.  He had Spa ’91 in the bag until his Ferrari gave up with just a

It must have been that bump again
It must have been that bump again

handful of laps left.  He had Monza ’94 under control until the gearbox seized while trying to exit the pits.  True to character, Alesi stormed through the garage and jumped into his Alfa with his brother while still dressed in his race overalls and left the track to return to France.  Out on the on Autostrada with the race only at ¾ distance, he was stopped by the law doing 140 mph but was sent on his way by the star struck polizia.

Finally in ’95 at the Circuit Gilles Villeneuve in the #27 Ferrari the racing Gods smiled on Alesi and he scored his one and only F1 victory.  I was at home watching the race that day on television but as he crossed the finish line I remember collapsing to the floor like I was Cristiano Ronaldo sending a game winner to the back of the net.  Of all the thousands of races that I’ve watched on TV or in person, that win gave me the warmest feeling inside.  I think I may have even held a one man dance party in the living room after the show went off the air.

I feel blessed to have been able to witness in person multiple times the love affair that Alesi had with Montreal and all the fans down in the turn 10 hairpin complex in his final years at Sauber and Prost.  He would often kick start our weekend with a salute and a doughnut that would get the heart racing and finish the weekend off much the same way leaving us heading for the subway in a state of delirium.  But it was the final time that I ever witnessed him that I will never forget.  After scoring an improbable 5th place in the uncompetitive Prost in 2001, Alesi charged down to our grandstand with both hands in the air and gave us one of his signature doughnuts.  Then instead of driving into the paddock he returned for an encore, got out of the car, ran around soaking up the applause and tossed his helmet into the crowd!  It felt more like a Stones concert than a motor race.  Mick Jagger would have been envious with the way Alesi had the crowd in the palm of his hand.  It was the perfect sendoff for the perfect driver.

Montreal Doughnut Farewell:  Au Revoir

 

 

 

Categories
Buzzard Tales

Hockenheim ’94

While participating in the ritualistic post college graduation tour of Europe with my fellow drifters in search of that one final adventure before the inevitable transformation from free spirit to working stiff, I was fortunate enough to be traveling with one hardcore buzzard and a few curious sorts who all had Hockenheim on our list of events to conquer that summer.  Our two car caravan of Renault 19 diesels rolled out of Barcelona  a couple of weeks prior to the race and while I was at the wheel for my daily stint, I must have been influenced by Adrian Campos because I charged a stretch of open road and managed to lose our sister car.  These were the days before cell phones, internet or backup plans so it was c’est la vie and see you at Hockenheim.  That is unless they were to have the good fortune of running into a group of Swedish girls seeking American companionship out on the open road.

When we arrived at the circuit on the Thursday afternoon the day before the first free practice started, there was still a dark shadow cast over F1 with the tragic death of Senna not even four months old.  But while the world at large was still coping with the loss of one of the all time great sportsmen, it was readily apparent that a large sector of Germany had moved on and was totally swept up in Schu-mania!  The campgrounds surrounding the track were sold out and the party was already in full swing.  There may be a perception that all F1 fans are sophisticated wine and cheese types but what we were witnessing was like a

Schumi Buzzard
Schumi Buzzard

bizarro Bristol parking lot.  Take your prototypical 245lbs Dale Jr. loving redneck and remove the Bud in a coozy, Dale shirt and cap, Chevy pickup and Toby Keith tracks.  Keep the jean shorts and the grill.  Now replace with a 245lbs Schumi loving redneck with Bitburger beer, Dekra hat and shirt, BMW or Mercedes sedan and a techno soundtrack and you can see the parallels. It could have been Billy Bob or his cousin Deiter.  It was unquestionably Dieter when we stumbled upon a group with a smoke machine and a strobe light in their 4 man pup tent pumping the jams to 11 at 5:00pm.

Through our interaction with the locals there was a rumor circulating that the FIA was going to penalize Schumacher and not allow him to drive due to the DQ he received the previous race at Silverstone for passing Hill on the formation lap and the subsequent two race ban that he received for ignoring the black flags.  Benetton had appealed the ban so he was likely going to race, but the whole affair added intrigue and an element of danger to the camp ground.  Many there had placed the blame on Hill and there was a swelling lynch mob gathering at the circuit exit waiting to let Hill have it should he dare leave the circuit.  We managed to find Friday/Saturday tickets but were told by all that Sunday was completely sold out.  As we left the circuit that evening to find a suitable piece of dirt to lay our tents for the night, we were envisioning the scenario of Schumacher not being allowed to participate and the Germans literally tearing apart the race track by hand.

The next day we were seated bright and early in the grand Hockenheim stadium with 50,000+ buzzards raring to go for the first practice of the weekend.  Schumacher was there suited up and Hill was still in one piece so cooler heads had prevailed.  In fact there was a story going around that Hill had evaded the

Truce Mate?
Truce Mate?

mob by leaving the circuit in the trunk of a car.  Regardless you could feel the electricity in the air as F1 cars took to the track.  On Schumacher’s first flying lap, the stadium exploded as personal bottle rockets, Roman candles, M-80’s and airhorns went off in unison.  I need to say it again: personal bottle rockets being fired over the cars by the fans!  I still can’t wrap my head around that one.  Can you imagine taking your seat at Indy and pulling out a Roman candle to fire past the ear of the guy in front of you every time JR Hildebrand went by?  Buzzardly!  This pyrotechnic display became just as entertaining as hearing the Ferrari’s blast off into the forest with their screaming V-12’s or watching Schumacher balance his Benetton on a knife edge.  As more beers were consumed for the afternoon practice the trajectory of the bottle rockets began to vary with the occasional rogue rocket blasting sideways through the crowd.  Usually the culprit would be a swaying, shirtless redneck with a cig dangling from the lip in the final moments of coherence before settling into a nap on the concrete slap style seats.

And then there was our introduction to false buzzardry!  Every time that Schumacher’s teammate, Jos Verstappen aka “The Dutch Devil”, would enter the stadium he would get the Schumi greeting from the drunkards that saw Benetton colors and started blasting.  This would often be met with a ribbing from those that refrained creating a scene that was straight out of a Saturday afternoon primate special on PBS.  The stadium was brilliant to behold and it all came to a thrilling climax when Berger dropped oil in turn 1 and the next 5-7 cars all ended up in the gravel against the tires right in front of us to finish the day off in style.

Heading out to our car in a lot of 20,000 cars, we were still riding high but became a little confused to find a bunch of new stickers from an Austrian youth

Renault 19 Wagon
Renault 19 Wagon

hostel called Balmers plastered on our trusty Renault hatchback.  Was this some sort of German joke?  We did have French plates after all.  But before we could launch an investigation our long lost friends that we dropped somewhere back down the road in Spain materialized out of nowhere with mischievous smirks and we had a joyous reunion.  This really got the juices flowing and we set about the grounds to get our hands on some frosty cold stuff to celebrate.  It wasn’t long after we had our hands on some of Bavaria’s finest that we witnessed a men’s choir unlike anything else on earth.  Standing arm in arm were 40 men all singing Amazing Grace but the only lyric was Senna.  It was phenomenal!  There were tears all around.  It was a good old fashioned group cry in honor of the fastest driver ever.  I’m not afraid to admit that I cried like a baby for days after Ayrton’s passing but to see that I was not alone was astonishing.  For the next few hours we all shared our personal stories of grief and the raw emotions that we experienced.  It was therapeutic and a truly remarkable experience which I will never forget.

But before I get too sappy, this tale quickly shifts back to hardcore buzzardry.  Sometime shortly after leaving our sensitive brothers behind, we fell in step with some professional Belgian buzzards hell bent on getting to the box.  If that sounds confusing I have to admit that I didn’t know what they were talking about either until they produced a bag of tools and pointed at the fence.  Their leader was a strange dude that cackled like a hyena but it certainly didn’t deter our pack from signing up for the mission.  Within minutes we had a mag light out and a set of wire clippers chomping away at the fence until we had our way in.  I couldn’t believe it.  I suddenly found myself standing on the track under the moonlight on the run out of turn 1 off into the forest.  To celebrate I started peeing on the racing line and while doing so I started to feel the ghost of Jimmy Clark looking over me.  Keep in mind Jimmy perished at the track in 1968 so it was a bit of an eerie feeling.  I felt ashamed but I didn’t get to think about it for too long because suddenly there were flashlights coming at us fast from all directions.  Our Belgian counterparts coolly slipped off into the darkness to continue their quest but our group of amateur Americans froze and I was immediately envisioning being interrogated by some SS officer while strapped in a chair looking into bright lights in a dark room.  I was terrified but after a stern lecture in German that I couldn’t understand yet still managed to produce butterflies in my stomach, they herded us up and led us back to the party without inflicting bodily harm.  We dodged a bullet and left to squat on the side of an industrial river for the night.

I wish I could say that Saturday topped Friday but to be honest it was really just another excellent day at the track.  Ferrari locked out the front row of the grid, Ukyo Katayama qualified 5th, there were still firework hijinks and drunken

Legends Ukyo and Alesi
Legends Ukyo and Alesi

shenanigans galore and as a bonus Mika Hakkinen proved that he was insane by attempting to take turn one 30mph faster than anybody had carried all weekend.  He hung on mid corner but lost the car on the exit and went into quarter mile spin that ended against the inside barriers.  His experiment may have failed but just the attempt alone spelled future World Champion.

After the F3000 race won by Franck Lagorce over JC Boullion and Gil De Ferran, we took to our Renault 19’s and headed to Heidelberg for a taste of civilization.  We had been shut out in all attempts to find Sunday tickets so as I sat at a table munching on a plate of spaetzle I was resigned to the fact that my GP weekend was over.  Thankfully the beers started to kick in and in a moment of bravado I proclaimed that I was going back and marching into that stadium for the race come hell or high water.  I managed to rally one fellow maniac and spent the rest of the evening devising a strategy.

On Sunday July 31st, 1994 I found myself pacing the perimeter of the Hockenheim gates in an attempt to witness my 11th F1 race in person.  In my hand I held my Saturday ticket and after a detailed reconnaissance mission I found my mark.  Manning a busy gate solo was a man who looked to be around 70 years old and was clearly getting flustered with the flood of people trying to get through.  I took a deep breath, straightened the back and cued up.  When it came time to meet face to face I gave him the annoyed, all business flash of my ticket with my finger over the date and kept moving.  He tried to focus but it was too late. I was in.  I kept waiting for the tap on the shoulder but it never came.  Buzzardry has been very very good to me!  I watched as my friend Timmy tried various strategies to no avail until he spotted a hole under the fence.  Like a bunch of convicts running for the hills, buzzards were racing for the breach and Timmy was rolling like a dog with the rest of them.  We were both in.  Buzzard mission complete!

Looking back at the race is just a blur.  We sat near the start finish line and I was shocked when the field came around to complete the first lap with 10 cars missing and was punching my thighs in anger after we lost Jean Alesi seconds later and Ukyo Katayama after lap 6.  There was a strange vibe to the race and it

became downright scary a few laps later when Jos “The Dutch Devil” Verstappen’s car went up in flames during his first stop.  I’ve never seen flames surge like that in person and I had a panic vision of the entire garage, hospitality suites and all, going up in flames.  Just as I was getting over that shock Schumacher retired from 2nd place and the entire stadium let out a collective sigh and started to sober up.  The only redeeming fact from that race is F1 avoided another dark day and Berger brought home the win and dedicated it to Ayrton.

A buzzardly weekend indeed!

 

Gerhard Wins
Gerhard Wins
Categories
Buzzard Tales

BUZZARDRY

Definition:

buzzard

n

  1.  Any of various North American vultures, such as the turkey vulture
  2.  Any racing fan displaying behavior that goes beyond what a rational person may consider normal

Exhibit A- Out of Control Buzzardry: Wild Buzzards

Exhibit B- Euphoric Buzzardry: Our Nige!

Origin:

 Like many great ideas throughout history, the term Buzzardry wasn’t derived from academics but rather was coined by regular folk over spirits in a sleep deprived state of mind at a racetrack sometime during the mid 90’s.  But before I delve into the meaning of the word further, let’s back track for a moment to examine how the noun buzzard first became used in a racing context and eventually found its way into the lexicon for, at my last tally, a total of three living human beings.

In 1983 I attended my first European GP at the Osterreichring in lovely Zeltweg, Austria.  Although only 11 years old I was already a veteran of 3 Long Beach F1 GP’s and multiple Can-Am, Trans-Am and IMSA races at Sears Point and Laguna Seca.  Due to the unfortunate circumstances of being on family holiday that summer with my mother and younger sister, my dad and I were only afforded the Sunday to attend the race.  It didn’t take more than ten paces through the ticket gate to realize that the circuit and crowd enthusiasm was far beyond anything that I’d experienced to date.  This was Disneyland on steroids.   I was so

The Run Up to Turn 1
The Run Up to Turn 1

caught up in the moment I sprinted off towards the sea of people in the Mercedes grandstand with nary a word to my bewildered parents.

The race was a solid contest highlighted by Alain Prost prevailing in the Renault over the Brabham of Piquet and the Ferrari’s of Tambay and Arnoux.  Other notable moments were witnessing an annoyed elderly lady brain the man in front of her with a beer bottle in an attempt to get those in her in section to sit prior to the start and an Austrian air show that was so spectacular it must have been based on a WWII air raid and no doubt endangered the lives of all 100,000 plus in attendance.  But it was what happened right after the race that shocked me and brings this entire longwinded story full circle back to buzzards and buzzardry.

Race highlight clip: Austria ’83

On lap 11 during the race the late Elio de Angelis retired his JPS Lotus 94T directly across from our grandstand and well off of the track so that there was no need for a safety crew to have to fetch the car.  As the race progressed the deserted Lotus sat under the shadows of a few hundred crafty fans that had erected their own personal scaffolding stands, some reaching nearly three

Elio by a Nose in '82
Elio by a Nose in ’82

stories high.  They looked like a boisterous lot enjoying their beer in the afternoon sun until just seconds after the checkered flag flew. Without hesitation this group sprang into action like a trained Seal team and quickly scaled the fence and descended upon the poor hapless Lotus.  Immediately you could sense they were in the throes of primal rage as they set about tearing apart the cockpit, bodywork and both front and rear wings with their bare hands.  I was mesmerized and in the chaos remember an Austrian crying out, “Stupide Italians!”  Within 2 minutes there was security on the scene and the situation was diffused but to my developing mind I had witnessed something I would never forget.  I had experienced my first brush with buzzardry.

It was 19 years later while watching “Our Nige” win at Silverstone that I remember David Hobbs referring to the people running onto the track as

Nige Buzzards Track Storm
Nige Buzzards Track Storm

buzzards.  I had an epiphany where I shouted back, “That’s it!  Buzzards!  These people are Buzzards!”

Fast forward again a few more years and I found myself with a group of hard core racing fans at the Portland CART weekend talking shop and enjoying a few pints.  When I recounted my Austrian tale of the unruly mob and Mr. Hobb’s subsequent use of the term Buzzards, it seemed to strike a chord with all present and immediately sparked a round-table discussion on the topic of crazy fans.  The basic use of the word buzzard quickly became the practice of buzzardry and from there it was off to the races.  Granted it helps to be young, dumb, drunk, dehydrated and lacking sleep but Buzzardry has withstood the test of time and much to the chagrin of my wife, is a part of my daily vocabulary.

Examples:

 “We are going to go buzzard into the pits”

Translation:  We are going to go attempt to sneak into the pits

“Check out the Dale buzzards”

Translation:  Look at the dudes with the painted faces and #8 tattoos

“I’m having a buzzard breakdown over Katayama”

Translation:  I’m so excited after Ukyo Katayama qualified 5th

Question-“How was your Long Beach trip?  Answer-“Buzzardly”

Translation:  I went to the LBGP and snuck into the paddock, ate breakfast next to Gil de Ferran and stayed at the track 10 hrs a day

Other Uses:

False Buzzardry:  This is common in F1 when the home crowd goes nuts for the wrong driver, usually the teammate.  Take the 1998 German GP free practice 2 for example.   When Irvine would arrive in the stadium section the masses would blow their airhorns and ignite their fireworks only to notice seconds later that the helmet was in fact the orange of Eddie and not the red of Schumi.

Over Buzzarding:  The practice of talking too much about racing to non racing fans in a setting like a dinner party or family function.  Often happens when you meet somebody from Europe and automatically assume that he/she watches every GP and has an encased, autographed Johnny Herbert helmet on top of their television.

Cross Buzzardry:  When you see something in every day life that is clearly racing inspired.  One example would be to name your company Grand Prix Audio and call your products names like Monza and Monaco.  Check it out:  http://www.grandprixaudio.com/

 

Categories
Cars/Teams

Life L190

While the 1988 McLaren, ‘92 Williams and ‘04 Ferrari will go down in the record books as some of the finest racing cars ever engineered, we often overlook all of the cars produced by the little guys that were bad to just downright terrible and barely made a ripple on the sport.  Before the days of Bernie capping the grid size and demanding a sum the size of the GDP of Belize just to enter the series, there were teams of all shapes and sizes providing amusement and bewilderment at the back of grid.

Without a doubt the worst F1 car that I’ve ever seen live was the 1990 Life-L190.  Back in those days I used to look at new teams with youthful optimism and in the process of thumbing through the Autosport season preview, I managed to get myself lathered up over the prospects of Gary Brabham, the youngest of the Aussie racing dynasty, driving a bright red car with a radical W12 engine developed by a former employee of Ferrari.

I was still under this illusion when the track went green at 8:00am for pre-qualifying through the not so scenic streets of Phoenix, Az.   It was immediately evident that Roberto Moreno in the Euro Brun-Judd and the Lola-Lamborghini’s of Bernard and Suzuki were the class of the field.   It was also evident that the local residents in the Valley of the Sun had no interest whatsoever in F1 and were actually attempting to sit in their offices and work while F1 cars were buzzing their building!

I waited patiently for 20 minutes into the session until a red car appeared in the concrete jungle that had yet to turn a lap.   When it was clearly visible my first thought

Roll out the Barrell
Roll out the Barrel

was it looked like somebody had taken a barrel, painted it red and stuck four tires on it.  This was more soap box derby than F1.  As Brabham went to the brakes the car twitched and moved around like a spooked horse.  He looked more like a guy returning home at 4:30am from an all night Scottsdale hot tub party than the reigning British F3000 champion.  When he went to the power the engine sounded like a sick dog.  Just one corner on an out lap was all the data necessary to proclaim the Life L190 an unmitigated disaster.  Mercifully for Brabham, the car only lasted 3 laps before the ignition box failed but the damage was done.  In those three laps Brabham managed to clock a time a cool 35 seconds slower than Moreno and 20 seconds slower than the Trans-Am pole time.  He would have only been marginally quicker than a confused commuter that somehow wandered onto the track while trying to get to the office that morning.

The next time I had the pleasure of seeing the Life in action Gary Brabham had wisely fired himself after the car only rolled 400 feet in Brazil due to the

Gary's Glorious 400ft
Gary’s Glorious 400ft

mechanics failing to put oil in the car on purpose (sounds like a whole new story to research) and Bruno Giaccomelli had for some bizarre reason come out of retirement to pilot this machine.  The team was run by Italian businessman Ernesto Vita, so maybe Bruno was family or had some unpaid debts?  Regardless, as pre-qualifying for the ’90 Canadian GP got underway, Bruno was hustling the car around at speeds slower than the Formula Atlantic cars and that W12 engine still sounded pathetically under powered.  The rumor was that the engine was only making 375bhp which sounds nice for your trip to the grocery store but not when the goal is to compete with Senna in a McLaren.  In fact Giacomelli was actually nervous that somebody, most likely his Friday am compatriot Claudio Langes, would misjudge his pedestrian speed and run up the back of the car.  For all their hard work of crating and shipping the car, team members and parts across the Atlantic for 1 hour of track time on a Friday morning, the reward was a lap time of 1:50.25, only 21 seconds behind session leader Roberto Moreno in the that not so mighty Euro Brun-Judd.

At Silverstone, Bruno must have been all hopped up on Espresso because he was able to get the car around only 15 seconds off the pre-qualifying pace of Eric Bernard in the Lola-Lamborghini.  By Estroil the team had abandoned the W12

Bruno sans cover
Bruno sans cover

and managed to bolt a Judd-V8 to the chassis only to have the engine cover fly off the car on the first lap of the day.  After posting a time 20 seconds off the pre-qualifying pace for round 14 at Jerez, the team finally called time on the project.

The fact that the Life team actually hauled this hunk of junk to 14 rounds of the 1990 FIA F1 World Championship is a mind boggler.  In fact what Ernesto Vita was attempting to do fits in nicely with Albert Einstein’s definition of insanity: Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.  What were they thinking?  I guess we will never know but contemplating their attempt brings to mind a famous Ron Dennis moment when he bitterly scolded a member of the media in a press conference by saying, “We make history, you just write about it.”  In a way this can also apply to the Life L190.  They made history and I’m sitting here on my duff 23 years later still fascinated by it.

Tall driver at Goodwood
Tall driver at Goodwood
Categories
Drivers

The Top 40 (1981-Present)

As silly as it is to compare drivers, athletes, songs, movies, etc. from different eras, the top xxx lists are always great for debates (I’m currently having a Jacques Laffitte vs Eddie Irvine internal debate) and inciting anger.  I remember the first time my friend Oliver and I were allowed to stay up to midnight on New Year’s Eve to listen to the top 100 songs of 1981 on our local AM station KFRC.  We were rooting for “Jessie’s Girl” by Rick Springfield but would have been satisfied with “Urgent” by Foreigner.  When “Bette Davis Eyes” by Kim Carnes was named “Top Song” my friend and I went nutty and my parents almost had a 220px-Jessie's_Girl“Lord of the Flies” situation on their hands.

The difficulty I faced in putting together my Top 40 F1 drivers (1981-Present) was what to do with the top guys of the early 80’s (Jones, Reuteman, Laffitte, Villeneuve) that were only around for a couple of years?  My thought process was to take each one of the following drivers on their best day during this time frame, not when they were old and hanging on at the back of the grid (yes I’m talking about Rene Arnoux and Alan Jones) and rank them.  See if you agree.

 

  1. Ayrton Senna (3 WDC, 41 Wins):  I often imagine the scenario where Ayrton survives, wins 3 titles with Williams and then goes to Ferrari for a few more.  We the fans were robbed of what would have been an epic rivalry with Schumacher.
  2. Michael Schumacher (7 WDC, 91 Wins):  His numbers are absurd but I still can’t give him the edge over Senna because he was always the undisputed #1 in his team and usually made a mess of racing somebody close.
  3. Alain Prost (4 WDC, 51 Wins):  A brilliant tactician and as quick as anybody not named Ayrton.
  4. Fernando Alonso (2 WDC, 30 Wins): A relentless driver that never makes mistakes and always gets the max out of his car.
  5. Sebastian Vettel (3 WDC, 26 Wins): Tough to rate due to all his titles being won in a Newey car but to win three in a row and easily outclass his teammate is very impressive.
  6. Nigel Mansell (1 WDC, 31 Wins): Unlucky not to win titles in the 80’s, Nigel got his hands on the ’92 Newey car and trounced the field.
  7. Nelson Piquet (3 WDC, 23 Wins): Crafty and sly as a fox, Nelson would pile up the points and be there to scoop up the title when others would falter back in the days when DNF’s were more common.
  8. Mika Hakkinen (2 WDC, 20 Wins): Extremely fast and untouchable in the Newey-McLaren.  Also the best interview I’ve ever seen.
  9. Kimi Raikkonen (1 WDC, 20 Wins): Kimi has freakish natural talent that shines when he has a car to keep him interested.
  10. Niki Lauda (1 WDC, 8 Wins): Niki came out of retirement for 4 seasons to teach the youngsters a lesson and managed to beat Prost to the ’84 title.
  11. Gilles Villeneuve (2 Wins): Known as a maniac, Gilles had two amazing wins in a poor Ferrari in ’81 that sold me on his talent.
  12. Lewis Hamilton (1 WDC, 21 Wins):  May be one of the best talents of all time but hasn’t quite figured out how to be the best in the mental department.
  13. Damon Hill (1 WDC, 22 Wins):  Just kept getting better and better and became Schumacher’s only threat in the mid 90’s.
  14. Keke Rosberg (1 WDC, 5 Wins):  Another Finn with amazing car control and speed.
  15. Jensen Button (1 WDC, 15 Wins): After years of driving around for points, Jenson has blossomed into a star that can go toe to toe with the best of them.
  16. Jacques Villeneuve (1 WDC, 11 Wins):  Burst on to the scene like a meteor with speed and daring but vanished once he signed with BAR.
  17. Gerhard Berger (10 Wins):  Always competitive in the Ferrari, McLaren or Benetton, GB kept Senna honest when they were teammates.
  18. Michele Alboreto (5 Wins):  Michele was awesome in the little Tyrrell on the street circuits in ’81-‘82 and had a few great wins for Ferrari.
  19. John Watson (4 Wins):  Wattie was classy in the McLaren and hung it up in ’84 to make room for Prost.
  20. Rene Arnoux (5 Wins): Arnoux was a blindingly fast shoe in his youth and was a threat in the Renault and Ferrari.
  21. Jean Alesi (1 Win):  Unlucky and the victim of bad timing, Alesi gets my vote for best 1 win wonder.
  22. Juan Pablo Montoya (7 Wins): A phenomenal natural talent that wasn’t cut out for the pressures and politics of F1.
  23. Robert Kubica (1 Win): The Pole was clearly in the Alonso, Vettel, Lewis class when an amateur rally crash tragically cut short his F1 career.
  24. Rubens Barrichello (11 Wins): Very quick in his youth, Rubens became the perfect #2 for the Schumi/Ferrari blitz of the 21st century.
  25. Carlos Reuteman (2 Wins): I wish he stuck around longer but Carlos came 2nd in the championship in my first year as a fanatic.
  26. Felipe Massa (11 Wins): Pre Hungary crash Felipe was the equal of Kimi and kept Schumi honest at Ferrari.  He appears to be lost against Alonso.
  27. Alan Jones (2 Wins): 3rd in the ’81 title chase, Jones won the first GP that I attended and retired only to come back overweight and drive the Haas-Ford mess in the mid 80’s.
  28. David Coulthard (13 Wins): DC has a very impressive 13 wins to his credit but he was usually slower than his teammates.
  29. Ralph Schumacher (6 Wins): It must have been tough to live in his older brother’s shadow but Ralph was very quick and had a solid career.
  30. Mark Webber (9 Wins):  Nine wins is serious stuff but the problem is Mark is losing 9-25 to Vettel.
  31. Didier Peroni (2 Wins): Peroni was in line to win the ’82 title for Ferrari until he had a massive career ending crash at Hockenheim.  He still finished 2nd!
  32. Sandro Nannini (1 Win):  Another of the one win wonders, Nannini was very quick and looked to be ready to challenge the big boys until he almost lost his arm in a heli crash.
  33. Eddie Irvine (4 Wins):  Nobody had more fun than Eddie!  He didn’t seem to mind being the #2 at Ferrari and almost won the title after Schumi broke his legs at Silverstone.
  34. Heinz Harald Frentzen (3 Wins): Frentzen did not look very threatening next to Villeneuve but he had some great drives for Jordan and Sauber.
  35. Ricardo Patrese (6 Wins):  Patrese was a quick driver but he was buried by Mansell at Williams and Schumacher at Benetton.
  36. Thierry Boutsen (3 Wins):  The likeable Belgian was quick at Williams and had a memorable win at the Hungaroring where he held off the likes of Senna.
  37. Johnny Herbert (3 Wins): Herbert’s career was hampered by a massive foot injury in the lower formula but he still managed to win 2 races as Schumi’s #2 at Benetton and won a race for Jackie and Paul Stewart.
  38. Giancarlo Fisichella (3 wins):  Giancarlo seemed destined for greatness until he was paired with Alonso at Benetton and appeared pretty pedestrian.
  39. Patrick Tambay (2 Wins): Tambay had the tough task of stepping in the #27 after Gilles perished and did a nice job for a season and a half before moving over to Renault.
  40. Tie: Elio De Angelis (2 Wins) and Jacques Laffitte (2 Wins): Two steady drivers that could always be counted on for a solid result if the car saw the finish line.

Honorable Mention: (Martin Brundle, Stefan Belloff, Nick Heidfield, Olivier Panis, Jarno Trulli)

Categories
2013 Racing Season

2013 F1 Preview/Predictions

Every March I always brace myself for the best season ever and 2013 is no different.  Granted half the time one particular team will arrive at the first race and demonstrate such domination that you can kiss all hope of a title fight goodbye but I have faith for 2013. 
 
The primary reason being this is a year of evolution rather than revolution.  Next year all bets are off with the move to the V-6 turbo but this year the rulebook has remained essentially unchanged and all the major contenders save McLaren are arriving in Melbourne with the next iteration of the car that they finished the year off with in late November.  And if you can remember that far back, there were multiple players fighting for the win in that fantastic wet season finale.  So will the pecking order change from Red Bull, McLaren, Ferrari, Lotus?  Can Mercedes get on top of their tire degradation issues and join in the fun? Will we ever see anything like 7 winners in the first 7 races again?
 
The major obstacle that teams will have to come to grips with (no pun intended) is the new rubber that Pirelli is introducing to spice up the show.  The FIA has asked the Italian manufacturer of fine rubber and calendars to bring softer compounds that will reach peak operating temperature quickly and then rapidly deteriorate forcing 2-3 stops per race.  In other words, no more amazing Perez one stoppers to the podium.  On paper this sounds fun because the performance gap between the hard and soft compounds will now be in excess of .5 sec/lap which could make for some great early season strategic battles and should bring about some epic out-lap tussles.  But one thing for certain is the geniuses up and down the pit wall engaging in extensive computational analysis will likely all arrive at the same optimal strategy by the 3rd race and all 22 cars will be on the same program.
 
The big change on the human side is Lewis Hamilton taking his talents to Mercedes.  It was becoming apparent that the pressure was mounting between Hamilton and McLaren due to their inability to replicate their 2008 title and at times last year it spilled over to downright animosity between driver and team.  While Lewis looks to be losing out in the short term battle he may win the war when the turbo era begins and McLaren has to find their powerplant elsewhere.  At his new team it will be fascinating to see how Lewis fares alongside Nico Rosberg.  Keep in mind that Nico is entering his 4th year with the German team and must be full of confidence after easily handling 7- time World Champion Michael Schumacher over the last two years.
 
The musical chairs that ensued after Lewis bolted for Mercedes saw Perez land the plum McLaren ride, Hulkenberg jump to Sauber and Sutil, given a reprieve after going gangster in the clubs, was brought back to Force India.  The rest of the driver moves were brought about by budgetary decisions with for hire drivers such as Glock, Kovalainen and Kobeayshi being replaced Chilton, Pic and Gutierrez.  Even drivers with money such as Petrov were replaced by drivers with silly money such as van de Garde.  The dilemma that a backmarker team faces in these economic times is pay a guy a million and maybe score a point or two and get your hands on that Bernie prize money or take the 15 million from a guy that will need a miracle to score point but will guarantee that the team can see the season out.  Nobody ever said F1 was easy!
 
TEAMS:
 
Red Bull: Sebastian Vettel, Mark Webber
 
Can anybody stop the Newey/Vettel juggernaut and prevent Vettel from winning 4 straight? Alonso looks to be the only hope.  Webber will be defiant as usual and will win a couple of races but I could see this being the 36 year olds last year with the team.
 
Ferrari: Fernando Alonso, Felipe Massa
 
Ferrari arrives in Australia in better shape than last year but it will take all of Alonso’s brilliance to overcome the aero shortcomings of his Ferrari to Newey’s machine.  Massa will need to be a regular top 5 finisher and remain the loyal solider to Alonso in order to keep his seat for 2014.
 
McLaren:  Jensen Button, Sergio Perez
 
Jensen will need to assert himself as the team’s number 1 over Perez and should be looking to match his 2012 win total of 3 and try to find more consistency.  Perez needs to avoid mistakes like he made at Suzuka and has to become a podium regular to justify his hiring.
 
Lotus:  Kimi Raikkonen, Romain Grosjean
 
Lotus was the surprise team of 2012 but they will not sneak up on anybody this year.  Kimi begins the year as a legit title contender but will be hard pressed to match the reliability of the previous year where he scored points in 19/20 races.  The big question now is can this team outfox the big three to land on the top step more than once?  Grosjean is fast but still rough around the edges and will need to bring the car home to stay employed.
 
Mercedes:  Lewis Hamilton, Nico Rosberg
 
With Niki Lauda hovering over the reshuffled management team, expect heads to roll if they have a repeat of last year.  It will be fun to see how Nico and Lewis get along, especially if they have a winning car.  Ross Brawn needs to roll out a winner to restore his genius reputation.
 
Sauber:  Nico Hulkenberg, Esteban Gutierrez
 
Sauber had four podiums last year but I often wondered what a Nico Hulkenberg might have done in the cockpit?  This year we find out as the other Nico moves into the top midfield seat to showcase his immense skills for the big 5 teams.  Gutierrez was a regular GP2 frontrunner and may surprise if the Sauber is equal to its predecessor.
 
Force India:  Paul di Resta, Adrian Sutil
 
This perennial midfield team once again has a strong driver lineup and should be there waiting to pick up the scraps if the top teams falter.  di Resta  seems to start the season strong but fades around midyear.  He should be primed and ready to show McLaren that they selected the wrong driver to partner Button.  Sutil will look to reestablish himself as a solid pro.
 
Williams: Pastor Maldonado, Valtteri Bottas
 
It was nice to see Williams get back on the top step of the podium last year but repeating that feat will be difficult.  Maldonado is fast but is still occasionally prone to errors in judgment. Bottas is another unknown but he’s a Finn so you have to consider him legit.  If he handles Pastor easily I’d say we have another Mika on our hands.
 
Toro Rosso:  Jean-Eric Vergne, Daniel Ricciardo
 
The brief glory year where Vettel won at Monza for this small team seems like another era. Even last year was a solid step backwards from 2011 when Helmut Marko tossed both Buemi and Alguersuari for underperforming.  I have a hard time seeing either of these current drivers ever partnering Vettel and view them as seat warmers for Antonio Felix da Costa.  At least I hear that they now hate each other so that could lead to some on track drama.
 
Caterham:  Charles Pic, Giedo van der Garde
 
This team has yet to score a point in three years and they likely won’t again this year.  Two pay drivers and nothing much else to report.  Beating Marussia is all they are playing for.
 
Marussia:  Jules Bianchi, Max Chilton
 
Bianchi will get the most out of the car and Max will keep the team afloat.  Reports say that Pat Symonds had a lot of input in this car so it will be fun to see if they have surpassed Caterham.
 
Driver Predictions:
 
1.      Vettel – 6 wins
2.      Alonso – 4 wins
3.      Button – 3 wins
4.      Kimi – 2 wins
5.      Webber – 2 wins
6.      Massa
7.      Perez- 1 win
8.      Hamilton – 1 win
9.      Rosberg
10.   Grosjean
11.   Hulkenberg
12.   di Resta
13.   Sutil
14.   Maldonado
15.   Gutierrez
16.   Bottas
17.   Vergne
18.   Ricciardo
19.   Bianchi
20.   Pic
21.   Van de Garde
22.   Chilton
Categories
Other Sports

Hook Tales

Back in the summer of ‘89 I was still riding high after helping my high school team capture the California State Division II basketball title, but having decided to attend the University of Arizona, the writing was on the wall that my playing days were coming to an end.  That didn’t diminish the fact that my love for the game was still at a feverish pitch so when I got a call from my friend Rose to get my hook2tail over to Kelly Park, aka The Onetta Harris Community Center in East Menlo Park, to witness the freakiest leaper he’d ever seen I immediately dropped what I was doing and sped off in my ‘63 Chevy Biscayne with either The Scorpions, Grateful Dead or Too Short in the tape deck.  Yes I was musically confused.

Menlo Park is generally regarded as one of the nicer upscale neighborhoods in the Bay Area but back in the late 80’s the East side of Highway 101 was a rough area with gangs, drugs and crime a part of daily life on the streets.  Traveling over to the gym nestled in the middle of this precarious zone as a teenage white male always felt like an adventure that heightened the senses and got the adrenaline flowing.

There was a buzz in the air as I strode into the gym and after taking my seat it didn’t take long to find out why. In the pregame layup line I suddenly witnessed a man jump off vert, kiss the backboard with his lips, twist to look at the crowd and throw down a reverse dunk that shook the glass. I remember making eye contact with a high school teammate a few rows down and bursting into uncontrollable laughter.  My aforementioned friend Rose was on the court as a teammate to this magician and gave me the knowing nod and wink that says, “I told you so!”

The magician I’m referring to was Oakland hoop playground legend Demetrius “Hook” Mitchell.  Roughly 6’ tall and built more like a running back, Hook’s vertical leap was however high he needed to go to dunk on somebody or win a contest.  That night as the college league tipped off, I saw stuff that I had only dreamed about.  Keep in mind that he wasn’t playing with a group of scrubs.  These were D1 players from around the Bay Area, including future NBA power forward Antonio Davis and a high school guard named Jason Kidd.

A few plays into the game a shot bounced off the back iron and Hook exploded from the dotted line and jumped over all the bigs vying for the board and threw down a monster jam that had both grownups and kids alike running for the exit doors.  The game was basically stopped for a few seconds while the celebration ensued.  To describe the dunk, try to envision the guys that entertain at NBA games by jumping off trampolines and you get the picture.  I swear he was almost laid out parallel to the court over the heads of 6’8’’ guys when he grabbed the ball and dunked it.

He later stole a pass at halfcourt and slowed down to wait for somebody to challenge him.  Santa Clara’s Jeffty Connelly sprinted back to contest and Hook posterized him like Shawn Kemp over Alton Lister.  Again the audience broke into a wild dance party.  I think I skipped the dancing and went straight into a gator on the bleacher bench.

After the game Hook piled into a caravan of lowered mini vans and rolled out of there with enough bass to break windows.  The locals outside of the gym gave him a send off by raising their 40oz malt liquors and doing doughnuts on their street bikes and 1980 Mercury Cougars.  It was pure pandemonium and a joy to witness.

hook 2_378215

For the game the following week I recruited two friends to tag along after rambling incessantly about the insanity that took place and we arrived 30 minutes early to catch all of warm ups. With 5 minutes to go there was still no sign of Hook and the capacity gym was growing restless.  I felt like we were throwing a party and the guest of honor was refusing to show. The entire half went by and still no Hook.  I think even the players on the floor felt let down.

But as the halftime clock was winding down suddenly you could feel the vibration of exploding 808 bass in the distance and much to our delight, it was the caravan of mini trucks transporting Hook to the gym.  I was so excited for my friends to see the man in person that I could hardly contain myself.  Unfortunately, “Our Hook” looked like he may have had a little too much reefer and did a couple of layups in street clothes without jumping and then looked around like he didn’t even have a clue which team he was running with.  But you don’t get called the greatest player in Oakland playground history for nothing so after shedding his baggy pants and slapping on a jersey, Hook made a couple of drives to the hole that got his juices flowing.

Somewhere around the 10 minute mark in the second half a lefty guard launched an attempted alley oop from half court that looked to be sailing over the backboard.  Suddenly exploding down the baseline like a tiger on the verge of a kill, Hook went up to the top right corner of the glass, caught the ball, and dunked it with such force that he shattered the backboard.  The court was instantly rushed by all in attendance.  In fact, one guy was so quick to get on the floor that he was cut by the flying debris.  Hook was lying on the floor in a shower of glass as we surrounded him and the first words that came out of his mouth were, “I ain’t paying for none of that shit!!”  He then proceeded to go into the bathroom and climb out the back window to get back to his caravan.  The rest of us all floated around replaying the dunk a hundred times.  It was like a crime scene and we were all witnesses recounting what we saw.  Eye witness accounts varied and The Dunk was already growing by mythic proportions.  We were so caught up in the moment that we failed to notice the mini vans headed off to the next gig.

People often ask why wasn’t Hook able to play in the NBA and my take was he was severely mentally ill.  He had all the physical tools to play with the best but his substance abuse issues and horrid upbringing had left him with no chance to ever be able to follow instructions or play in a structured setting.  My friend Rose once played against Hook while he was “attending” Cal-State Hayward and told me that Hook joined his team during a timeout huddle to steal their plays.  Could you imagine pulling that stunt in a pro game?  His career would have lasted mere minutes before becoming another Chris Washburn.  Sadly Hook was destined to spend his prime locked away behind bars but the story does have a happy ending.  In 2004 a documentary titled “Hooked” brought this story back to the fore and all of the Oakland greats paid homage to the man’s legendary skills. And more importantly, Hook had found a purpose in life by helping other at risk youth back in his community.

 

 

 

 

Categories
Other Sports

We May Just Finally Belong

For the better part of the past quarter century the Golden State Warriors provided the blueprint for failure in the NBA.  Hidden at the bottom of the Western Conference and far removed from the East Coast media spotlight, the Warriors quietly went about about making some of the most head scratching personnel decisions in the history of professional sport.  There should be a collegiate sports management course dedicated solely to the Warriors utter ineptitude from ‘78 to 2012.  For a great refresher and a laugh out loud read check out Bill Simmons, “How to Annoy a Fan Base in 60 Easy Steps”.

How to Annoy a Fan Base in 60 Easy Steps

But the purpose of this tale isn’t to reminisce about the horror that I witnessed 82 times a year for most of my adult life.  I’ve recovered from the days of watching point guards named Mookie, Bimbo, BJ and Speedy crush my soul with costly turnovers late in games.  I’m done with the “What If” game in pubs all over the Bay Area where everybody has a go reciting their favorite front office gaffe.  Todd

Fuller Keeping Shaq at Bay
Fuller Keeping Shaq at Bay

Fuller over Kobe?  Check.  Joe Smith over Kevin Garnett?  Check.  Purvis Short over junior eligible Larry Bird?  Check.  Trust me I’m trying not to go there but old habits die hard.

The point I’m trying to make here is that not only is this Warrior team a legit contender in these 2013 playoffs, the organization now has a solid foundation in place to become a marquee billing on the Sunday ABC game of the week.  This isn’t the 2007 team of Nellie and his band of mercenaries who shocked the top seeded Dallas Mavs and then quickly faded into oblivion.  If the Warriors start the 2013-14 season with a healthy lineup of Curry, Thompson, Barnes, Lee and Bogut, they will be fighting for home court advantage come playoff time.  This team is no longer fodder for Charles Barkley to rip on air for being soft and playing limited defense.

From the top down, the Warriors organization is magically solid.  Two competitive owners with big egos who want to win, a consultant named Jerry West, a GM who has looked Sam Presti like in his brief tenure, a second year coach who can inspire and match x’s and o’s with anybody, a budding superstar and a supporting cast of character guys who check their egos at the door and work relentlessly on their craft.  This isn’t a team where each guy arrives with an entourage and plays to get his numbers.  These guys actually listen to their coach during timeouts and cheer for one another from the bench.  Boring?  Maybe but ask Greg Popovich and his Spurs organization how that has worked out over the years.

There will be growing pains.  For years we had to watch Michael Jordan get knocked around by veteran clubs that understood how to play playoff basketball.  We had to watch LeBron James suffer crushing defeats throughout his ascension to the top.  My heart now goes out to Kevin Durant as he embarks upon the seemingly impossible journey to reach the pinnacle.  Like these megastars, Curry and the Warriors will have to take their lumps along the way.  They will still need an additional piece or two in order to be hoisting the trophy and spraying champagne in June, but they are on track.

Yes they were once on track back in ‘94 with Nellie at the helm and a roster that included Webber, Mullin, Hardaway, Sprewell and Billy Owens but that implosion was rapid and by ‘95 they were back in the dregs.  Somehow I believe that this time it’s going to work out.  The basketball Gods will be kind to Steph Curry’s dainty ankles and allow Andrew Bogut to round back to 100%.  Bob Meyers will find a way to lock up Thompson and Barnes to long term deals and they will continue to develop into big time role players.  Mark Jackson will stay planted right here in the Bay when the Knicks and Lakers of the world come calling.  Somehow, someway, we may just finally belong in the upper echelon of the NBA.  And for somebody who grew up rooting for Dave Feitl over Larry Bird, Joe Barry Carroll over Kareem and Chris Porter over Michael Jordan, this is enough for now.  Besides, I don’t think my nerves or my liver could handle a run deep into June.

 

Washburn Has Seen Enough
Washburn Has Seen Enough