On the intersection of racing and public health

Today certainly did not go as I thought it would.  Out of all the conflicting news reports and constant updates on sports leagues shutting down or schools closing their doors, I found myself at an odd crossroads of my racing life and my education---one that I did not anticipate intersecting.

For those who don’t know, I completed my master’s degree in Public Health a few years ago, specifically studying Community & Behavioral Health and Epidemiology, the latter of which studies how diseases move through populations.  I have worked in various parts of the public health field since I graduated, and it’s something I’m very passionate about.

Combining this with my love of racing, I felt it important that I put up some sort of blog post to add some perspective to this whole bizarre situation that unfolded today in Australia.  And to be honest, I’m still a bit confused and disappointed over how it devolved to this.

For those who hadn’t followed along, today’s roller coaster of a “Will they or won’t they” began earlier when a member of the public tested positive for COVID-19.  That person shared the same hotel as several Formula 1 team members, one of whom turned out to have contracted the virus.  This set off a chain reaction of fear and assumed responsibility which culminated in prolonged radio silence from F1, teams packing up and leaving, mixed media messages and frustrated racegoers.

Teams waited by the paddock, unsure whether their job would be to compete for a Grand Prix victory or pack everything up.  Fans at the track stood in queues at closed gates as the screaming V10 of the F1 two-seated lapped Albert Park. 

As I’m sure you know, the race was eventually canceled, and I imagine more Grands Prix will fall in the aftermath.  But from a public health perspective, what on Earth just happened?

Before we delve too deeply into this, I want to define a few things.  These are all questions I’ve been asked online and in-person, and it helps put this decision into perspective.

At its broadest, people around the world are getting very sick from a virus that is spreading quickly all over the place.  It has killed scores of people in China, the Middle East, Italy and elsewhere.  New cases are popping up constantly, and you’re seeing cancellations as a result.

Why this is such a big deal revolves around the culprit to all of this:  a novel coronavirus.  Coronaviruses aren’t new.  The name describes a known shape or type of virus, “haloed” by glycoproteins and attachment proteins (which help the virus grab onto cells).  But this particular one is new.  And that’s a problem.

When we follow diseases through populations, monitoring is good enough that we can track how these sicknesses evolve.  We can usually discern when one mutates and creates another dominant form.  It’s why and how we predict flu strains for the yearly flu shot (since influenza mutates like crazy, always changing its attachment proteins).  But this particular kind of coronavirus didn’t evolve from something else, it literally popped up.

Specifically, epidemiologists can trace it to a market in Wuhan, China, where the first cases arose.  Whether it jumped to humans from bats or from another animal, we know that this was not originally a human disease.  From there, the race began to try to identify it.

That’s where the next definition comes in.  Given the symptoms that accompanied infection with this virus, scientists classify this as a SARS virus, which stands for “Severe acute respiratory syndrome.”  Yes, that’s the same general SARS that made news a few years ago, but this time the thing that is causing it is a lot more potent.  Because this virus causes a form of SARS, it is classified as SARS-CoV-2 (COronaVirus).  This is only the second time a SARS-causing virus has arisen in modern times.

The disease that CoV-2 causes goes by the name COVID-19, or COronaVIrus Disease (first documented in) 2019, and its attack is a bit unique.

Unlike more common diseases, this new-to-science coronavirus is quite contagious.  Very small viral loads seem to be necessary to transmit it (in other words, you don’t need to be exposed to a lot of virus particles to get infected).  People spread it effectively, although we still don’t totally know how its transmitted (or if it’s different than the usual hitching a ride on droplets coughed out or sneezed).  It seems to be able to survive for long periods of time in the air and on surfaces.  And more worryingly, people seem to be contagious for a long time both before and after they show symptoms of the disease.

For those that do get sick, there are further concerning differences here.  More susceptible populations seem to get hit by COVID-19 really hard.  Their rates and lengths of hospitalizations are higher than the usual flu or colds, and of those hospitalizations, a higher percentage require placement in the Intensive Care Unit.  And a large number end up dying.

It’s an odd mixture of a disease that our body isn’t prepared to fight, that we don’t know a ton about, and that we aren’t ready to treat.  And because there’s still so much science doesn’t know, there’s palpable concern.  How long are we contagious before symptoms set in?  How much exposure do you need to get sick?  On and on.

It would be one thing if this were fairly localized, but COVID-19 spread rapidly.  Usually in an epidemiological setting we talk about a troubling disease doubling its number of cases every six days or so.  Start with 100 cases, then six days later you have 200, then 400, then 800, then 1600, then 3200, then 6400, then 12,800 and so on.  All in a month and a half.

But in the worst-hit parts of this outbreak, doctors saw a doubling every two to three days.  In the above example, your 100 cases turn into 12,800 in a little over two weeks.  Add in two more weeks, and you’re at nearly half a million.  Add in six more days, and you’re just shy of a million.  All in a month from just 100 cases (which, for example, could be a small close-knit group like the F1 paddock).

It can be easy at this point to think that everyone is freaking out and saying we’re going to die, but this is an important distinction to make, especially when you keep that quick, exponential increase in mind.

This disease is not massively lethal---at least in certain populations.  For most healthy and young people, this will seem like a bad flu, if that.  Then they’ll be done with it.  But the problem is, all the time they’re sick, and for quite a while before, they’re still contagious.  They’re still spreading this virus to others (and remember, it doesn’t take much).  But while those young people may be fine, older people are absolutely clobbered by COVID-19.

People who have weakened immune systems are sitting ducks for this disease.  People who have breathing difficulties may not survive a sickness that includes extremely severe breathing problems.  

When we talk about the lethality of this disease, it’s not for the average person, it’s for vulnerable populations.  In fact, the very nature of public health doesn’t deal with the individual patient, it deals with the public as a whole.  So this is not crying wolf, it’s recognizing that people may get this disease through no fault of their own, and it may kill them.

That’s where we start to get back to the racing bit.

Think about what a Grand Prix is from a human standpoint.  You have people from all around the world gathering in a central location.  You have a hundred thousand potential carriers, some of which may be actual carriers who are in the stage of the disease where they’re not showing symptoms, but they’re still a flamethrower of viral particles.  You have a finite number of bathrooms where people funnel through, cramming into high humidity environments and close quarters even for the briefest of times.  Then they all leave and go back to where they’re from, all over the globe.  Hopefully given what you now know about this virus, you can start to see the issues.

So when the decision had to be made, it wasn’t to protect the people in the stands, per se, it’s to look at the broader picture of what happens next.  Epidemiologists don’t think the entire crowd in Melbourne will get sick.  They don’t think they’re all going to die.  But they know that even if a tiny subset of attendees harbor this virus, it’s only a matter of time and math before you get a massive spread across loads of populations---some of which don’t have any cases of COVID-19 yet.

Others may point to the fact that this disease will spread regardless, but there is still a big benefit in actions like this.  Take a look at Italy right now as an example of what can happen in an unprepared population:  Cases are exploding, hospitals are well over capacity, triage doctors are losing patients who are fighting for extremely limited resources.  This isn’t a knock on Italy, but they’re a prime example of why preventive measures and “flattening the curve” are so important.

Imagine a classic bell curve, which is highest in the middle and tapers off at the edges.  Now imagine another curve that stretches much wider than that bell curve, but it’s not near as high.  Then imagine a dotted line that is just above the lower curve’s peak and well below the peak of the higher one.  This dotted line represents the total capacity of all of the hospitals and doctors in a given population.

Unabated, the disease swells quickly and has a tall peak, well above that dotted line.  As a result, there are far more who need care than the hospitals can accommodate, because all of these cases are happening at once.

If, however, you can flatten that curve, the peak always stays below that full capacity line.  Cases will still happen, but they’re so spread out, there are never overwhelming to the healthcare industry.

That’s what these types of delays and postponements do.  They stop those easy ways for the virus to spread.  They keep populations apart from each other for as long as possible, which lets the inevitable cases play out while the preventable ones are delayed.  Even so, some of those people may get the disease anyway, but if they do, it will be at a later date when the number of cases may not be as high.  Or it may happen at a time when we have better treatment options or possibly even a vaccine.

Public health can be frustrating in this way, since we so often deal with risk rather than concrete guarantees.  People want to know whether or not they’ll get it, not that their risk is lower or higher in certain situations.  They will point to exceptions to the rule, or they will outright not believe what they’re being told.  But actions like the cancellation of the Australian Grand Prix are the right thing to do from a public health standpoint.  And remember, public health isn’t about the individual, it’s about the bigger picture.  In other words, it isn’t about you.  Nor should it be.  The healthcare system is for “me,” but public health deals with “us.”  It deals with prevention instead of treatment.

Thankfully, and perhaps scarily, the world is perched on the edge of the transition between prevention and mitigation, from saying “We have to stop this” to saying “We’ll just have to manage the inevitable.”  And ideally, we want to keep it that way for as long as possible.  Seeing sports canceled can be frustrating and heartbreaking as a fan and a consumer, but we’re trying to do something now that will pay dividends later.  You, as a healthy fan, might have been fine either way.  But by delaying now and flattening the curve of cases, your older loved one might actually be around next season to watch your sport of choice with you.  A friend at work who may be immunocompromised because of a medication he or she is taking may not die unexpectedly in two or three months.

We can’t know the benefits of doing this now, but we can sure see the frustration and the immediate shock waves that these decisions sent through the sports world.  We can see the disappointment and the amount of money lost on tickets that won’t be refunded, and it can be easy to fixate on that.

But the public health professional in me is heartened by the fact that so many leagues and organizations worldwide stood united today and took sweeping, definitive, preventive action.  They saved lives today, and we don’t (and won’t) even know it.  They did what was right, no matter how much I was thrilled to get F1 and IndyCar back this weekend.  F1 may have had an awful time doing it, they may have dropped the ball on countless occasions today, and they were woefully unprepared, but in the end,  they made the right decision.

So while I may be some random person rambling on the internet, please take this disease seriously.  Do your research.  Ask me any questions you’d like.

It may be frustrating to you in the here-and-now, but those most at-risk for developing this disease will thank you later.  Whether it’s your grandparent, your aging neighbor, a friend fighting cancer, or in my case, my own mother, these are the medically vulnerable people we’re trying to help.  And believe it or not, delaying events like this helps us do that until SARS-CoV-2 passes (and it will pass eventually).  So let’s do our part now, and later we can watch all the races and games with them that we want.

There could be no greater end than this

Alright, raise your hand if you predicted Nico Rosberg would retire from Formula 1 today.  Anyone?

I think that broadside was shared by everyone in the sport today as this year’s World Drivers’ Champion collected his trophy and announced his ride off into the sunset, but you can hardly blame him.

Well, most people can hardly blame him.  There are undoubtedly some out there who will attack him for what some claim is a cowardly retreat, in their eyes proving his title a fluke that even Rosberg knows would never happen again.  There really isn’t a way to prove either side objectively right or wrong, but to simplify the German’s legacy into such binary viewpoints is doing a disservice to a supremely talented driver.

How does one quantify or qualify such a career, though?  It would be all too easy to let this season (or even the last three) define Nico Rosberg merely for his battle with Lewis Hamilton.  Careers aren’t just made of the rivalry, or at least the rivalry’s most recent incarnation.

Remember, Lewis and Nico go back to their karting days as young children, both banking on a dream of a racing world that they could barely comprehend---Nico knew some of it because of his father’s involvement, but there were undoubtedly aspects of international Grand Prix racing that a father best leaves unsaid to a child whose aim is the stars.

The rivalry had always been relatively friendly between them, but the walls they would build between each other grew with every ascent up the racing ladder.  The divergence came to a head over the last three seasons in equal machinery, but don’t overlook their individual merits before they shared a constructor, either.

Rosberg’s GP2 championship, the first for the new series, solidified his talent to the naysayers who saw his ascendance aided by a steady hand from a former World Champion who happened to be his father.  He stood on the podium in nearly 50% of the races that year, winning five of them.

His fortunes seemed to flip when he retired from 50% of the races in his inaugural F1 season.  He would add a few more DNFs the next year, but then things seemed to look up.  Since 2008, he never finished outside of the top ten in the drivers’ standings.  His bold switch to the new-again Mercedes team netted him an emotional win in the 2012 Chinese Grand Prix, all while being paired with the un-retired Michael Schumacher.  This fact shouldn’t be forgotten either, but let’s not take it out of context.

His battles with Schumacher were noteworthy, especially since he bettered the legend in career wins at Mercedes while they were together (albeit 1–0), but look beyond the head-to-head.  Schumacher was undeniably more experienced and still very quick, but the two drivers’ feedback ultimately did more for the team in the long-run than who beat whom.  Rosberg proved his mettle against the seven-time champ, no doubt, but these were drivers on the opposite ends of their career to one another.

His time with the team would be used against him when Hamilton joined the squad and immediately set out beating the German.  Lewis, a World Champion in just his second season in F1, had already gone toe-to-toe with Schumacher’s last rival, Fernando Alonso, when they were together at McLaren.

Despite being with the team for a few years, Rosberg’s lack of speed in comparison to the Briton had to be frustrating.  That had to add to his annoyance as Hamilton shot to his second and third world titles---both of which were won over Rosberg in a car that he helped develop ever since the team returned to Formula 1.

So if you couldn’t already tell, this season’s triumph had a great deal of history behind it, and that’s saying nothing of the past collisions, verbal sparring, cap throwing and talk of conspiracies.

And that’s exactly why Rosberg chose today to announce his retirement.  In his message to the media at the FIA Prize Giving Gala, he spoke of the Formula 1 World Drivers’ Championship as his ultimate goal throughout his 25 years of racing.  That was the top echelon for him, and he achieved it.

What made this decision right, though, is the timing.  If Rosberg had won the championship in his first year against Hamilton, I have no doubt we still would have seen the German racing in F1 the next year.  He would have been a different driver than what he ultimately became, but he would have been hungry for a second title.

What the last three years did to him, instead, was put him through an emotional ringer while destroying a friendly rivalry that existed since childhood.  It brought out the best and worst in him at a time when he started a family, and that took its toll.

Because of the struggle, because of its nastiness, because of his growth as a person and a driver, this championship was the perfect storm, an experience to fuel a lifetime of stories and perhaps nightmares.  The cumulative saga only sweetened a pot that already seemed pretty tantalizing.

And so, with his peers and the world’s media surrounding him, Rosberg knew that the perfect time to announce his retirement was when he held the championship trophy at long last.  His trophy.  His championship.  No worry of title defense, no questions of ongoing rivalries, no uncertainties about next year’s regulations, no endless cycle of globetrotting flights.  The journey was complete, and there could be no greater end than this, leaving as the champion of the world.

Justin Wilson

For the second time in four years, a talented British driver's death will overshadow the end of the IndyCar season, and tonight the racing world is heartbroken after losing a gentle giant in Justin Wilson.

I don't have to tell you what a great guy Wilson was or expound on his talented on the track.  What I will say, though, is that his spirit and passion for this sport certainly impressed me, and that should never be overlooked.  So often we hear stories about drivers who lose their racing seats and disappear, or they get told they're too old for a team to take a chance on them.  Or in this case, maybe they're told that they're too tall.

Justin Wilson experienced all of these things and more throughout his racing career, but he just kept fighting.  You don't have enough money to get into F1?  He sold shares of himself to raise money long before crowdfunding really became a thing.  Your racing series is coming to an end and joining with IndyCar?  He immediately made the switch from ChampCar and dove straight into Indy, undeterred in his desire to race.  You lose your seat?  He switched teams, aided by his amiable personality and undeniable talent.

Perhaps in this last fact we can get a great appreciation for the person he was.  His reputation as a driver and a human being preceded him, certainly helping him network and continue to pursue a full-time drive.  And teams took note, knowing full well that he was a consistent, fast, intelligent and personable driver suitable for any team.

With every threat to his career, Wilson found a way to keep going.  Just this year he faced the proposition of a 2015 without IndyCar, but Michael Andretti felt comfortable enough with Wilson's reliability that he provided another car for a partial schedule until more sponsorship could be found.  Wilson delivered on this opportunity just weeks ago with a second-place finish at Mid-Ohio.

But Justin wasn't always smiling.  Put him in a race car, whether it's in Formula 1, IndyCar or Le Mans, and suddenly he was all business.  His intensity shone through his helmet, and it wasn't hard to tell how much he wanted to win—something he did seven times over the course of his American open wheel career.

When he got out of the car, though, the smile would return, the intensity would subside, and he would go back to being generous, tall, soft-spoken Justin, ever the British gentleman to his fans.

We can go on for as long as we want about his character, but the sad fact is, there's a wife and two little daughters grieving tonight.  There's a brother pouring out his soul and admiration for his best friend on Twitter with one heartbreaking tweet after another.  And there's a worldwide racing family mourning and wondering what to do.  After all, we're less than five days away from the first practice session for the final race of the year.

When Dan Wheldon was killed four years ago, at least it was already the final race of the year.  We had an entire offseason to collect ourselves, to be sad and to come together as a confused and distraught family.  But as so often happens in this sometimes cruel and complicated sport, it must go on, and seven days after the accident we'll be back at a circuit to decide the title.  I'm not really sure which is better for healing, honestly, but I'm glad we haven't had enough of these instances for me to decide.

One thing I do know is that the pain and loss will serve a purpose, whether or not we know it yet.  We race every week in IndyCar with the safety measures developed in part by Wheldon in a car bearing his initials.  The Brazilian contingent and many others will tell you that growing up, they wanted emulate the racing exploits of their hero, Ayrton Senna, whose presence can still be felt at tracks around the world after his 1994 death prompted a worldwide revolution in racing safety.  Many race with carbon fiber reinforcement in their helmets after Felipe Massa's near-fatal injury at the Hungarian Formula 1 Grand Prix in 2009.  The list goes on.

Many often criticize racing for only reacting after these incidents occur, but I'm not ready to go into that debate just yet, whether it be about oval racing or closed cockpits.  We can discuss that later, after we've mourned, after we've paid due respects.   It deserves a conversation, no doubt, but now is not the time.  Now is the time to be sad for Justin's family and to send our prayers for his daughters.

This week, let's come together just like we did after Dan, knowing that we were lucky to be able to watch Justin do what he loved.  Know that his loss is being felt around the globe tonight as the news has trended worldwide on Twitter for a few hours now, aided by the thousands of tributes and messages of sympathy from drivers and fans alike.  Know that the racing world will never forget this gentle giant from Sheffield.

"The brave and the fearless accept the risks of what they do because for them Life is Challenge," Steve Matchett said tonight.  "Their great courage teaches us to be strong."

Godspeed, Justin.

On his birthday, a look at Fernando Alonso's future

Fernando Alonso spoke candidly last week about having his interest piqued by other racing series around the world, as the Spaniard continues to be mired toward the back of the pack in his ailing McLaren, even after scoring a rare double-points finish on Sunday.  Finding his disenchantment with Formula 1 growing, I can't help but think that the double World Champion's feelings speak not only for himself but for Jenson Button, Nico Hulkenberg and even quite a few F1 fans around the globe.  The sport's supposed shortcomings could fill several blogs, but what interests me most are the complex factors acting on Fernando Alonso right now and where his future may lie.

The Oviedo native is 34 years old today with 15 years of F1 experience to his name (neither of which I can really believe; his successes at Renault seem like they happened a few years ago, not a decade).  Winless for two years, a man whose peers have repeatedly voted him the best driver on the grid has had plenty of time to do some soul searching lately, retiring from no fewer than five races in 2015.

For Alonso to battle the rest of the grid is tough enough, but in the last couple of years he's had to account for a pair of factors relatively unfamiliar to him:  An awful car, and age.

The foibles of McLaren are maddening enough to test the most resilient of drivers (and believe me, Jenson is proving that with every positive interview he manages to eke out), and it's been far too many years since Fernando has had to grapple with a car this bad.  In fact, some would argue that he never has.

But what complicates his fight even more is an ever-increasing number beside his name.  You'd be forgiven for failing to brush off a mental image of a 25-year-old Alonso, but he's different now whether or not you can picture it.  He's wiser, he's more composed, and he's weathered vast amounts of good and bad since then.

Throughout it all, his passion never seemed to abate.  Even in the worst of times at Ferrari he knew the car was capable of springing an upset, and the outflow of emotion witnessed after his home victory proved a palpable outlet for what had been a long pent-up (yet unrewarded) optimism.  Although a few hairs had grayed since those days at Renault, the spring in his step remained, the fire in his eyes burned furiously.

Nearly two years removed from that Ferrari win in Spain, we see a different Alonso unafraid to admit that his situation and outlook on the sport are far from ideal.  Hampered by countless factors already, a further planned reduction in testing next year has only added more uncertainty to McLaren-Honda's efforts to lift themselves out of the back rows.

Between the disappointing outlook, unfavorable rule changes and the knowledge that time may not be on his side, Alonso is right to consider other outlets regardless of if he admits it.


Nico Hulkenberg's Le Mans win stirred the paddock into a small frenzy, both thrilled at an active F1 driver taking the 24 Hours and excited to discuss the possibilities of future crossovers.  When it emerged that Alonso had nearly followed suit to La Sarthe, this revealed the Spaniard's hand slightly.

Now we know that the World Endurance Championship is a viable outlet for his efforts.  We know that he considered it, and it is highly unlikely that whatever desire that drove him to investigate WEC has disappeared.  Given the growing fanfare surrounding it this year, why not add Alonso to an already impressive lineup of world class drivers?  The allure that pushed Mark Webber to transition is not that hard to understand, but here again the 2005/2006 World Drivers Champion may be battling the clock.

What if the WEC proves to be a dead end, though?  Of the stages outside of Formula 1, it is arguably the biggest in the racing world right now, but let's say a deal could not be had with the likes of Porsche or Audi.

DTM once occupied a similar niche as WEC, seeing the likes of Mika Hakkinen, David Coulthard and Ralf Schumacher leave F1 in search of fresh competition and winnable races.  It seems less popular now, but I would hardly say it's not a viable option.

Formula E is also gaining steam (er...electrons?), but despite the presence of Jarno Trulli, Nick Heidfeld and Vitantonio Liuzzi, this burgeoning series seems keen to maintain an air of youth and newness.  While I'm sure FE would welcome a legend like Alonso, I don't think such a deal would be high on their priorities list.

Alonso could do far worse than exploring his options in IndyCar, too.  Already a noted viewer of the Indianapolis 500, he was joined by Sebastian Vettel this year in saying that it would be fun someday to try the 500, perhaps when their F1 days were over.  (At this point it would have to be since Monaco and the 500 are due to clash yet again next May.)

Alonso would certainly be taking a gamble, though.  As the first F1 World Champion to enter IndyCar in quite some time, he would probably be a hot commodity.  Known for his brilliance on road courses, he is wholly untested on ovals, but the benefits may outweigh the disadvantages.

He would probably be able to emulate Michael Schumacher's experiences here by enjoying a quieter life in a country where far fewer people will recognize him on the street.  A less demanding schedule that has a shorter season, fewer races and barely any of the travel miles would certainly be a plus, but not every IndyCar transition has been as successful as Juan Pablo Montoya's.

Look at Rubens Barrichello, for instance.  A Formula 1 record holder and 11-time race winner, Barrichello arrived on the scene eager to get back in a winning car after an unbelievably long career in F1.  Friends with Tony Kanaan and a media darling for the Brazilian press, Rubens tested and drove for KV Racing in 2012 with much anticipation.  Despite earning Rookie of the Year honors at the Indy 500, the affable fan favorite scored just two top-five finishes en route to P12 in the championship.  Unable to find a drive the very next year, he returned to Brazil to compete for Peugeot in stock cars.  (He would win their championship in 2014—his first of any series since 1991.)


What if Alonso finds himself in the same situation, though?  Or even worse, what if the same thing that nearly forced him into a pseudo-sabbatical this year happens again?  What if an ill-timed breakdown in bargaining leaves him high and dry from any racing series?  Some would argue that he wouldn't be worse off than he is right now, haplessly and single-handedly pushing his wounded car back to the Hungaroring's pit lane on a 90°F day.

And even if the monetary element of the deal could go through, every year brings Alonso closer to a time when a prospective team may say "I'm sorry, but we'd like someone younger in our seat."  Aging may be delayed, but it's never halted.  Reflexes eventually slow, fitness proves harder to achieve and recovery times extend.  It's inevitable, regardless of the athlete.  Even for Fernando Alonso.

But what if he chooses to stay in the sport and finish his career with McLaren?  How will the annals of history look back on this stretch in his career?  The almost magical finish on Sunday certainly helps, possibly as a harbinger of things to come should the team continue to improve.  But I'm almost certain that few people watched Alonso celebrate his second World Championship back in 2006 and thought "That's that.  He'll never win another one."  I know I didn't.  In fact, everyone I knew said quite the opposite, that we were just beginning to see the potential and brilliance of this brash new champion.

Even so, all that time without winning another title will do nothing to his legacy.  Some may lament or show surprise that he didn't win again during that stretch, but his race victories and near misses at season finales will maintain his stature.  Pairing that with his grit and determination in perennially-struggling Ferraris shifts the focus from what could have been to what may have been wasted.  His time at McLaren only cements that chapter of his career in review, pending a momentous turnaround next year.

I can't help but think that people will now look back at Alonso's past and think "He made all the wrong moves at all the wrong times.  He left McLaren when he should have stayed.  He stayed at Ferrari when he should have left.  He left for McLaren when he should have stayed at Ferrari."  And since we'll never know what could have been had he made those alternative decisions, you'd be hard pressed to prove them wrong.

Much like overtaken cars in your rearview mirrors, though, what's past is past.  For Fernando, that which cannot be rewritten must not be overthought.  The only thing he can do is to decide how he moves forward.  If that's staying with McLaren, so be it.  If it's exploring a different lifestyle in IndyCar or pushing hard for wins in WEC, then I certainly wish him the best.

Either way, for a team like McLaren, one good result does not rescue an entire season, so while Fernando may be all smiles heading into the three-week break before Spa, it's a bit premature to put on rose-colored glasses and be content with his situation.

For the first time in ages, Mark Webber felt the wind blast into his face as he drove a race car

The end of a Formula 1 season is always a downer, but the promise of a new season and the inevitable joy that arrives with the next year's first practice session is often enough to get me through a long off-season.  But this year's campaign ends on a sad note with the departure of one of my favorite drivers, Mark Webber.

You know his story and his history, and you know that he's leaving the sport to become a proper number-one driver for Porsche in endurance racing.  But for one last time today, he was an F1 driver with a job to do, hurtling the most technologically advanced race cars on the planet around a soggy Interlagos circuit in the heart of Sao Paulo, Brazil.  Starting P4, Webber had one more outing to complete his time in single-seater Grand Prix racing, and he was brilliant.

He admitted on his slow approach to the starting grid that it would be tough for him getting in and out of the car before the race, but he assured his team that all would be fine once the visor was closed, when the world was shut out and the race had begun.

As the changeable conditions looked to shake up the grid, the foretold deluge of rain never came (the paddock got today's share yesterday when a monsoon delayed Q3 of qualifying by 47 minutes).  Mark dutifully put on a masterful charge, and even got a front row seat for the team actually making a mistake on one of Vettel's pit stops instead of his own.  Webber's car never burst into flames.  Its KERS never failed.  He didn't have to short-shift.  Yes, the delay on Vettel's stop delayed his own, but he exited the pits in relative reach of his teammate, securely chasing Sebastian from second place.

The team's assurances on the radio that everything was fine around him on the track meant that he could enjoy his last few laps in an F1 car, and Mark made the most of it.

Crossing the line for yet another podium in his lengthy career, Webber's time as a Grand Prix driver came to an end.  One cool-down lap, and that would be it.  He's not exactly sad to leave the sport, but he's sad to leave the challenge.

For so many years he plodded on with the hope that someday he would find himself on the top step of a podium, knowing he would have to endure long days in underpowered Minardis before he could live that dream.  He went from being mentored to being a role model, serving quite proudly as the head of the Grand Prix Drivers' Association.  As a senior member of an ever-changing sport, Webber's old school style and blunt honesty certainly won me over, especially as I watched him when he was a 20-something driving that gorgeous green Jaguar years ago.

He was a great driver, but like Jenson, he couldn't win.  Ever quick in a race car, Webber's talents were akin both to Nick Heidfeld's consistency and win rate.  Everyone loved him except the top step of the podium.

However, his ascent to Red Bull set him on a path that few could have ever dreamed.  A quiet, unassuming Aussie standing next to an equally respected, strong-chinned Scotsman in David Coulthard meant that Red Bull started the cogs in motion that would give them a dream team half a decade later.  But Coulthard's F1 swansong in Brazil saw him punted off the track on the first lap---something I vividly, sadly remember.  Webber's fate resulted in a much more beautiful, satisfying end.

As his seething hot RB9 coasted around the Autodromo Jose Carlos Pace one last time, he furiously clawed at his gloves, yanking them off one at a time.  Then he lifted his iconic helmet---a symbol of one's existence as a driver---from his head and placed it in his lap.  For the first time in ages, Mark Webber felt the wind blast into his face as he drove a race car, providing an uninhibited view of the emotions unfolding before him.

He wanted to take it all in, and he wanted the fans to see his appreciation not through a common wave or a nod.  He wanted them to see him, to see on his face the passion that drove this steely Australian for so many years (and will continue to drive him toward that elusive victory at Le Mans).

He wanted to feel the wind and hear the engine, and he wanted to do so in his own, personal style.  There's no way he could have done that still buttoned up in his fire suit and helmet.  When the visor goes down, the world is gone.  But even when he's been in sole control of his car, it's never been just him out there.

Riding along in spirit have been all of his supporters over the years, all of his family and friends and those who respected him.  It's been all of his fans, many of whom have probably never seen him compete in person.  It's an entire world of racing that he never hears over the roar of his phenomenal engine.

Except for this time.  The helmet, and the symbol it represents, were removed, thus Mark Webber the human---not the race car driver---piloted his machine.  He could hear the cheers and see the crowd's strong, sincere farewell to a driver so revered and respected in F1 today.  The visor wasn't closed.  The world wasn't shut out.

Webber leaves Formula 1 on his own terms at the height of his career:  Two Monaco Grand Prix victories, nine wins, 13 poles and 42 podiums in 215 starts.  He leaves with a legion of fans thrilled to have witnessed a driver earn the success he had deserved for so long, and he'll be missed in our sport, especially by me.

Thanks for a great career, mate, and best of luck leading your team to Le Mans.

This was my realm. This was my sport.

It's been three months since I last wrote on this blog, but certainly not for lack of want.  If I had the time to devote to writing my thoughts and experiences, I would, but instead medical school has consumed my life even more so than last year.  And I didn't think that would be possible.

What started inauspiciously enough soon turned into the most relentless semester I have ever had in any form of schooling, and to complicate that, countless out-of-school things have been seriously affecting me as well.  Unfortunately there hasn't been a ton of good in my life lately, but I can't despair too much since I'm still alive and my family is also alive and healthy, too (the latter being rather pertinent in the last couple of months).

Still, the combination of school and life has made my existence pretty exhausting and lonely.  And as one thing builds upon another, I find myself spiraling downward into getting busier and busier, getting more and more determined to dig myself out of the hole of a setback that I'm in.  With that determination, though, comes worry.  For the first time in my life I find myself unable to get the worries of school out of my head.

I went to a football game on Saturday, yet all I could think about was school.  When I hang out with others (which doesn't happen terribly often given my schedule), my mind rarely wanders away from school for very long at all.  It's been awful and not something I can see myself shaking until this semester is over.  I hate it, and I hate that med school doesn't allow me the time to deal with things, so I just have to keep going, which really sucks.  But this blog post isn't supposed to be a complain-fest of sad stories and worried parlance.

One of the few bright spots in the past few months, as foolish as it may sound, has been racing.  I've mentioned before that it's one of the only things I have allowed myself to enjoy in school, and as problems and concerns have mounted this season, and as I've whittled more and more things away from my life, F1 has remained.

Nowhere was this more evident than the epic trip we took to Austin last weekend for my birthday to go to the US Grand Prix.  The journey and our stay in the Lone Star State was incredible, and so many times it seemed that the stars aligned for us to make for an even better, more unbelievable weekend.

We got tons of free stuff; we met wonderful people from all over the world; we stood next to Niki Lauda, Damon Hill and Johnny Herbert; we were personally shown an actual helmet worn by Ayrton Senna the year we were born (1988); I met one of my Twitter followers for the first time after he had been working on a vintage racecar; we got interviewed by the track entertainment personnel and were broadcast on the big screens in front of 113,000 people; we got to invade the track and made friends with some members of the Lotus F1 team (who gave us some brilliant team hats); and so much more.  I couldn't believe it.

I also couldn't believe that for over two days, I almost never thought of med school.  Heck, when we were at the track, it never crossed my mind.  Only in passing after we left the track each day did it ever enter my mind, and it was wonderful.  I felt like a person again.  I felt like an actual human being who could have passions and had a hobby to which I could devote time.  For once people were asking ME questions, and I was the only one who could answer them.  This was my realm.  This was my sport.

Looking back, I'm amazed at the transformation in me as I got nearer to Formula 1 last weekend.  Even on the way back, in the middle of the night several hours into our 14-hour drive, I was feeling so tired.  I was around 110 miles into my first or second stint, and I wasn't sure I'd be able to go much longer before switching with my friend.  While he slept in the backseat, the only other person awake in the car started asking me about F1.  We talked about "Rush", we talked about Bernie and his legacy, we discussed the recent history of some of the sport's luminaries, and we speculated on the future of Grand Prix racing.  In no time at all, I had taken us over 220 miles and was feeling rather refreshed.  For the first time in recent memory I could speak about something with confidence and excellent recall, and there wasn't a question I couldn't answer.

Over the course of the weekend I ended up driving over 1,100 miles, and I was beyond exhausted.  But it was worth it.  For one weekend I felt alive again, so strikingly refreshed that I could breathe in the sport's nuances and feel them in my blood.  I was no longer lonely, for once being completely surrounded by people who shared a common love with me that every other day of the year draws confused looks and erroneous comparisons.  It was one of the most memorable birthdays I've ever had.

Fast-forward one week later, though, and the teams are celebrating tonight in Sao Paulo, Brazil, capping off a long season whose twists and turns reach back to a warm March day in Australia.  They bid adieu to V8 engines, another year of Red Bull/Sebastian Vettel domination, Ross Brawn at Mercedes, and one of my favorite drivers.  Mark Webber's surprisingly emotional end to his Formula 1 career went by far too quickly, although he tried to prolong it as best he could.  But that's a whole other blog post.

Tonight I'm wondering what the next few months will be like for me, and it saddens me to know that something that was such a big part of what little life I had left is going to be absent for a third of a year.  I would be lying if I said that worries of the coming finals for med school aren't creeping into my head tonight as a result, but I'll live.  I always have.  The end of seasons always make me a little sad, but with everything else that has gone on this year, it's difficult not to take that loss a little harder.  Still, I can reflect on a brilliant season, and I can look forward to the changes that will hopefully shake up the sport for the better.  While I remain skeptical on some of them, others I think will only do good things for Formula 1.  Only time will tell.

So tonight I join hundreds of millions of F1 fans around the world to say goodbye to the 2013 season, hoping that my life next March will be accommodating enough to let it back into my everyday enjoyment.  But for two and a half more hours tonight it's still race day, and earlier this morning a Grand Prix was run in front of some of the most storied and passionate F1 fans in the world.  Life was good.  Let the offseason begin tomorrow.

Forty-five years on, why Jim Clark's death still matters to Formula 1

Forty-five years ago yesterday, the world of Formula 1 changed forever.  Shockwaves rang all around the globe.  The racing community entered a state of shocked mourning.  Jim Clark was dead.

His fatal injuries delivered amidst the dense forests of the Hockenheimring, no one saw the crash that took his life.  Yet as his crumpled F2 Lotus lay smoldering in the trees, some of the greatest drivers of the day began to reassess their participation in the sport.

“If Jim Clark could die at the hands of a race car, what are our chances?” they began to ask.  Formula 1 was inherently dangerous, of course, but for it to have taken the life of the greatest driver of all time, especially in such a nondescript, mysterious way in a junior series, something was wrong.

In that day, it was not an easy task to upset F1 drivers.  They knew how deadly their sport was.  All of them grew up watching and participating in local competitions, the informality of which lent itself to terrifying and often fatal accidents.  They were not so far removed from the board track days of commentators yelling ‘The fearless racers are coming into town tonight, risking life at every turn for your entertainment!’  They knew that from the beginning of the season until the end, at least one of their fellow drivers would not make it, and that was that.

But Clark’s death shook the drivers in such a way that had not been felt in ages.  Graham Hill, Jackie Stewart, Jack Brabham, John Surtees and Chris Amon---all friends and competitors of Clark---were deeply troubled by his loss.  Ask any driver today who raced with Clark in that time period, and they’ll tell you that crash resonates as strongly today as it did 45 years ago.

So why does this matter?  Nearly half a century has passed.  The old Hockenheim is gone, swallowed by the trees that took many lives over the years, and somewhere in the middle of it is a small, humble memorial set up for the two time World Champion Jim Clark.  So we lost an incredible driver.  That’s happened again since then, so why does this anniversary matter to Formula 1 today?

After Clark’s death, drivers like Jackie Stewart began to see the errors of their sport.  What is now runoff and gravel traps at modern circuits used to be fences and trees to the world of 1960s Grand Prix racing.  This was still four years removed from F1 making seat belts mandatory.  Drivers died just as often of fire from the metal fuel tanks on which they sat as they did from the actual crashes.

“We thought hay bales were enough to protect the crowds,” legendary motor sport journalist Chris Economaki told me years ago.  It was a nonchalant feeling that if you wanted to go watch a race, you were willing to sit in the path of a 180mph metal rocket full of a flammable cocktail of fluids.  After Jim Clark, and reinforced by the horror at Monza in 1961 (a crash of which Clark had been a part), this began to change.

Stewart’s now-famous march toward greater F1 safety started after a harrowing and terrifying crash at Spa-Francorchamps, but his resolve was further strengthened 45 years ago yesterday when his friend and on-track rival Clark was killed.  The feelings and ensuing changes were not unlike what modern racing went through when Ayrton Senna lost his life at Imola 19 years ago:  A World Drivers Champion killed in his car after setting the racing world on fire and breaking F1’s longstanding records.  People were shocked.  People demanded change, and they got it.  From Senna’s death, Formula 1 is a safer place, forced to reassess its mentality and thoroughness in driver care.

But F1 would not have been in such a position and arguably may not have had as much success were it not already shocked several times in the past by such losses.  Not to overlook or downplay the role that losing Gilles Villeneuve, Jochen Rindt, Ronnie Peterson or countless others had in the previous 30 years before Imola, but losing the Flying Scotsman was different at that time.

He was not just a World Champion, he was everywhere.  In 1965 alone he competed in 59 different events, ranging from the Tasman Series, to the Indianapolis 500, to Formula 1, to F2 and sports cars.  He won the Indy 500 once (and came close several other times were it not for mechanical issues).  He dabbled in NASCAR (something few remember, but he had relative success were it not for mechanical problems there, too).  He won more Tasman championships in Australia and New Zealand than F1 championships, all the while winning more Grands Prix and capturing more pole positions than any Grand Prix driver in history.  And he only finished second in one race in his entire 71-race F1 career.

His attention to even the minutest details made him a perfectionist both in and out of the car---and in racing that’s not always a bad thing.  But people criticized him, saying he could only win from pole position and that he couldn’t fight his way through the field.  His choice to race the Indy 500 instead of the Monaco Grand Prix drew ire from some.  But Clark was not interested in this.

He would fire back at the critics through carefully written newspaper columns, but he would leave it at that.  His gentle schoolboy-like demeanor would disappear when he stepped into a racecar and tightened his dark blue Bell Magnum helmet onto his head.  And that’s how many remember him.  The rather demure personality and finger biting Jim Clark disappeared in the race car, where he instead entered a state of zen, never driving out of anger or aggression.  He was on another level, both with his competition and his car handling.

But when Clark’s funeral was attended by racing legends from all over the globe, the sport collectively took a step back and wondered what could be done.  The result was a slow and steady march toward the safety of Grand Prix racing as we know it today.  It also forced the fans to grapple with the mortality of even the best drivers out there---something that the crowd, even today, tend to forget or set aside. 

One thing they don’t forget is the brilliance of a youngster named Jim Clark.  Ask any racing driver out there, and they will hold Clark in high regard.  Ask IndyCar champion Dario Franchitti, who has an enormous collection of Clark memorabilia filling rooms of his house, and he’s incredibly quick to tell you that his countryman was the greatest racing driver who ever lived.  Will we see another Jim Clark in our era?  Perhaps not.  There has never been anyone quite like him, and although he was only in the international racing spotlight for under a decade, tales of his skill and accomplishments are known worldwide and are still discussed in Formula 1 circles today.  His loss changed Grand Prix racing, but so did his driving and charisma while he was alive.  That’s why the anniversary matters.  That’s why he matters.

Romain's Renaissance

In his first lap of testing earlier this week Romain Grosjean’s car went spinning into the gravel in Barcelona, and the cynics of the F1 world let out a chuckle.  Could they expect anything less from the man branded the “First-lap nutcase” by Mark Webber last season?  But maybe that mentality will change in the media this season partially because of Grosjean’s admittance of using a psychologist last season.

Speaking to reporters at the test, the Frenchman revealed that he started seeing a sports psychologist last September in the midst of an F1 season marred by a string of incidents that eventually led to a one-race ban.

“It's not a secret that I started work with a psychologist in September last year and it went very well during the winter,” Grosjean said.  “I had a lot of discussion with Genii [the financial and investment firm that sponsors the Lotus Team] to try to help them understand and take the right decision. And when they called me to say, 'Okay we go again for one more year' I was more than happy.”

Grosjean’s openness about seeking help is a welcome change to professional sports in general, although the impact of his reveal may not change the face of racing.  Instead it’s a reminder of the human side of the sport that so many gloss over.

In F1 especially there is a mentality of placing blame quickly and accurately.  If an incident occurs, people want to know who the stewards will punish and how.  If cars careen off the track, whose fault is it?  Have they done it before?  If so, then punish them more!

That’s not to say this mentality is flawed, though.  In a sport where lives are frequently put in danger through dangerous or careless moves, drivers must be made to stay in line and race in a safe way.  But in Grosjean’s case, stewards’ decisions were not the tipping point, whether he admits this or not.

*  *  *

It was relatively cool for Bahrain standards, but the steamy race at the Sakhir circuit in late April of last year looked to be a defining one for Romain Grosjean.  Starting P7, the Frenchman made a brilliant start and began a slow and steady march through the field.

By the fourth lap he had disposed of Mark Webber in the champion Red Bull RB8.  Three laps later he was by Lewis Hamilton.  He needed to keep this up.

Using tyre strategy to his advantage, Grosjean ran P2 in the late stages of the race before his teammate, on better tyres, got by him.  Still, he stayed with the frontrunners in the closing laps and secured the first podium of his short career.

He was ecstatic, becoming the first Frenchman to stand on an F1 podium in 14 years, and he beamed with the promise of a long season ahead after such incredible early returns.  He followed that up with a fourth place finish, then a P2, sprinkling a “Fastest Lap” honor in there as well.  Another second place finish and podium ensued.  Good things were in store for Romain Grosjean.

*  *  *

“We had good results (last season),” Grosjean said at the Lotus car launch a while back.  “Quicker than I was expecting, but maybe I wanted a little too much.”

If there’s anything of which F1 drivers could be accused, it’s certainly not lack of want.  Any driver lacking passion to win would not have made it to Formula 1, and Grosjean is no exception (especially since this is his second go-around in the sport after a disastrous campaign alongside Fernando Alonso at Renault).  So yes, maybe Grosjean was a little overambitious in some of his moves and decisions, but I think his issue is a deeper one.

The picture that the media painted of Grosjean was not a pretty one.  Far from being hateful, everyone began to associate him with crashes.  Internet memes celebrated his failures.  Drivers laughed when being asked about starting a race near him.  If he and Maldonado were in the same sector, look out!

Whether Romain has acknowledged these characterizations of him, I have no idea.  One can be sure that it weighed on him every time he found himself in a tricky situation.  Every decision must now be reconsidered.  ‘If I mess this up, will I be giving everyone more fodder?  I have to stay clean.’

*  *  *

On the second day of September, the 2012 Belgian Grand Prix began at the might Spa-Francorchamps.  Romain Grosjean started P9 on the run to La Source hairpin, but few remember his starting position.  Even fewer remember the clutch slip by Pastor Maldonado that caused the field to splay, or the launch that Grosjean got to position himself on the inside line at the first corner.

In the blink of an eye, it happened.  Hairpins like La Source lend themselves to crashes on race starts, but this one was different.  Grosjean found Hamilton to his inside, and in a split second the two had touched wheels.  Everyone remembers the crash that ensued, seeing Grosjean punt Perez before becoming airborne.  Everyone remembers the scary onboard image from the cockpit of Alonso’s Ferrari, and everyone remembers the runoff littered with carbon fiber and steaming cars.

Grosjean would earn a one race ban for his involvement in the incident, and a short time later he sought the help of a sports psychologist.  His approach to racing and his handling of the pressure that came with his incidents needed rethinking.  Romain Grosjean knew that his career could be significantly shortened, but not because of his driving, but because of the space between his ears.

*  *  *

Regardless of how accurate the depictions of Grosjean’s accident-causing nature have been, his courage to seek help both in the interest of his career and for the safety of those around him is unprecedented in modern Grand Prix racing.  It is a situation in stark contrast with the cutthroat nature of F1 where a driver’s underachieving inevitably means his career will be over as soon as his contract allows.

For Romain to take a step back and try to better his career underlies the notion that drivers are human and are incredibly susceptible to issues of self-confidence and doubt.

As media and fans, we are quick to praise the drivers that find themselves in such beautiful flow in a racecar---a phenomenon that is centered in the mind.  But we are equally as quick to pin everything on the driver when he has a string of bad finishes, accidents or incidents.  We remove the mental aspect of the sport in these situations and just assume that there was a dumb decision, a momentary lapse of judgment.  Put two or three of those incidents near each other on the calendar and people label the driver as a “problem.”

This is the spiral that Grosjean entered.  The ban forced him to rethink his role in the team and his approach to the races.  Even so there were still incidents in the next Grands Prix:  He ran into Webber in the very next race at Suzuka, he was part of a first lap incident in Abu Dhabi, and he hit the HRT of Pedro de la Rosa in Brazil.  The end-of-season break was extremely welcomed by Romain if not only for the fact of getting the bad taste out of his mouth.  He would have work to do in the offseason, though.

*  *  *

Tom Kristensen is a racing legend.  His eight victories in Le Mans and his stellar track record in endurance racing and DTM will attest to this.  How could a maligned, laughing stock of a racer compare to this, much less beat him head-to-head on an international stage?

This was the situation facing Romain Grosjean in Bangkok, Thailand last December.  After a dream finish of second in the Nations Cup of the Race of Champions, Grosjean had improbably worked his way through the Champion of Champions bracket and found himself in the final against Kristensen---a man who has been there before.

The story would be too fantastic to write if the Frenchman won, but what a better way to usher in the new season than by beating one of the best?

Two races and two victories later, though, and Romain Grosjean was the 2012 Champion of Champions.  He had won the honor that has evaded Kristensen to this day, and the media began to see a changed driver.  He was smiling more; he was excited for the future again.  He was thrilled to hoist the trophy that few believed he would ever win.

One day later he received news that he would be driving for the Lotus F1 Team in 2013.

*  *  *

“He’s a different guy now,” Lotus chairman Gerard Lopez said.  “He knows what he has to do.  He doesn’t have that pressure, stress. … We essentially have told him he's got a long-term future with us so now he can literally take it race by race, practice by practice."

And it’s that freedom from pressure that should propel Grosjean to bigger and better things.  Having been a champion in every series in which he’s run, the Frenchman is well aware of what it will take to find success in Formula 1.  He also knows that the key to that success lies not in the engineering of a carbon fiber and titanium, four-wheeled rocket.  It lies within his mind.

On Friday Grosjean ran a successful program for Lotus in testing at Barcelona, and at the end of the day he sat at the top of the timesheets.  Granted, times don’t mean much in testing, but tell that to Romain Grosjean’s confidence.

My interview with American GP3 driver Conor Daly: Barcelona, Force India and Hares!

American Conor Daly has been working his way up the racing ladder steadily for the past few years, but many more Americans took notice when the 20 year-old won the second of two GP3 races in Barcelona earlier this season.  Following that with a straight-line test for the Force India F1 team before heading to Monaco, Daly’s first full year in GP3 has proved to be a busy one, but I caught up with Conor for a candid interview about this whirlwind of a year shortly before the Monaco round of the GP3 championship.

Daly, the son of former CART and Formula 1 racer Derek Daly, is a former World Karting Association champion and multiple winner in Skip Barber and Formula Ford.  Originally entering the Road to Indy, which aims to aid racers in ascending to the IndyCar series, Daly won the Star Mazda Championship in record-setting fashion in 2010 (nine poles and seven wins) before moving on to Indy Lights the following year with Sam Schmidt Motorsports.  After capturing victory in Long Beach, Daly competed in GP3 with Carlin Motorsports (splitting his season between Europe and the United States).

But throughout all of these accomplishments, Daly has perhaps garnered the most attention in just four races in GP3.  Currently fifth in the championship standings with 23 points, Daly won the Barcelona sprint race on the opening weekend of the GP3 season, but it wasn’t easy.

What many people didn’t realize was that Daly had already been offered a spot testing the Force India before the opening weekend of the GP3 season---something he called “a nice little incentive” for those first two races.  However, that didn’t make things simpler for him in the feature race.

After a great qualifying, Daly dropped several spots at the start, from which he was never able to recover.

“I saw the pole sitter, [António Félix] da Costa jump and I released the brake just slightly which made me pull in the clutch paddle so when the lights actually went out I was slipping the clutch way too much,” Daly said.  As a result the car stayed relatively stationary before creeping away slowly.  Despite the disastrous start, the clutch had only been slipping for a total of 2.4 seconds.  “It was definitely my fault, and it was sad because I was in a good position to try and win but unfortunately I wasn't able to do so,” he lamented.

Over the course of the race a difficult battle with Marussia Manor Racing’s Tio Ellinas developed until a late safety car bunched the field together.  In the ensuing sprint to the end, Daly’s main focus was finishing the race in one piece and setting himself up for the sprint race, which would invert the top eight finishers from the feature.  He would go on to finish P6, which meant he would start P3 on the inverted grid for the sprint finale.

More jump starts saw penalties befall those in front of him, and the sprint race quickly became a one-man show with Daly pulling away.  He later revealed that in the final few laps he had to keep himself from thinking too much about what would happen if he won.  Instead he made himself concentrate more.

“The car was so good that I was able to focus on hitting my marks and just finishing out the race,” he said.  “I had to manage the tires towards the end and was able to finish with a good gap behind me so I was quite happy.”

 One of the best moments of the weekend for American fans was seeing Daly holding the American flag as he celebrated in parc ferme after the race.  Where did the flag come from, though?

 “I made sure to have my Dad bring the American flag from home because I knew I would get to use it at some point this year, I just didn't honestly think it would be this soon!  I was so thrilled to hear the American national anthem.   It was a very emotional moment and I can't really describe the feeling I had.  I was relieved because I knew that I was starting to prove myself in Europe.  I was extremely happy but it’s just the beginning and I can't wait to get to the next race in Monaco!”

For the rest of the weekend the young American was approached by numerous luminaries of the GP3, GP2 and F1 worlds.  At one point he was even congratulated by Ferrari F1 team principal Stefano Domenicali---the importance of which was not lost on the Indiana native.

“It is always nice to know people are watching,” Daly smiled.  “I don't want to get too caught up in it, though, because it’s a long season and I just want to focus on keeping the good finishes coming and scoring points to be there for the championship at the end.”

I have to ask, then, are any future deals coming out of some of those important conversations?

Daly laughed.  “Not that I know of at the moment!”

Fast forward to the Force India test a few days later. This was Conor’s first taste of a Formula 1 car.  Obviously he had grown up hearing about the machines, but the jump between GP3 and F1 technology had to be a great one.

 “They are indeed massively different cars.  The F1 car was absolutely incredible.  I was pretty much living every childhood dream I ever had!  There are just so many different settings on the steering wheel and it is a far more technically advanced race car than anything else in the world,” he explained.

But the coolest thing, if he had to choose something?

“Ultimately, though, the coolest thing had to be the sound under hard acceleration; just absolutely beautiful.”

Since the test was a straight-line test---one of the few types of testing that has been allowed by the FIA over the past few years---Daly had plenty of opportunities to accelerate and decelerate, sometimes being told to accelerate as hard as he possibly could (which he described as being “the best part” of the session).  There was a brief moment, however, when he got to test out the handling as well.

Somewhere around 150 mph a hare ran out onto the Cotswold Airport runway where Daly was testing (located in Gloucestershire, England).  Although it wasn’t as much of a near-miss as some would like to think, Daly said he ‘did have to make his way around [the hare] as it sprinted away.’

Surprisingly, having worked with the Lotus GP3 team and now Vijay Mallya’s F1 team, Daly says that the two squads are extremely different, but only because the Lotus GP3 team is really ART GP.

“It's funny because everyone thinks because we have the same name that we are heavily affiliated with the Lotus F1 team but really we aren't,” he explained.  “Lotus GP is really ART GP which has been one of the best teams in the world competing in junior formula car racing.  Fortunately, though, the [ART GP] team has aligned themselves with the Lotus F1 team which gives us the cool color scheme and a great historic name.”

 Even so, Daly says with a chuckle that he is yet to meet anyone from the Lotus F1 team.

From there Conor was going to be heading to Monaco---somewhere he had never raced but had always dreamed about experiencing.

“I have been looking forward to this race since it was announced on our schedule.  I love street courses,” he said.  “I have raced on many street courses in America, and I've thoroughly enjoyed every single one.  Now I get to race on what is arguably the best street course in the world!”

Citing the 27 cars that will be taking part in the race, Daly noted that he may need a little luck when it comes to avoiding the inevitable traffic jams, but through simulator work and studying the track, he felt very comfortable leading up to the race.  He even mentioned that he was most looking forward to “pushing the limit in qualifying and using every inch of the track to try and get the pole.”

So, with one victory in the first two races, Daly would head to the French Riviera to the legendary and dangerous streets of Monte Carlo, where few could have predicted the outcomes of that weekend’s races.  We’ll catch up with Conor and get his thoughts on Monaco and the following round of the GP3 championship (Valencia, Spain) next time.