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.
24 November, 2013
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.
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.
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