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.

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.

The Magic of Monaco

As we get ready to begin the most important weekend of the motor sports calendar, who can blame me for being too excited to sleep?  Aside from watching the Indy 500 on Sunday, I plan on getting up tomorrow morning at 4am to watch the final Formula 1 practice from Monaco, going back to sleep an hour later, then getting up at 7am to watch qualifying.  Such is the difficult life of a die-hard American F1 fan, but you certainly will not hear me complaining.  Quite the opposite, actually.  I'm thrilled to do it.  I'm beyond ecstatic to witness every moment I can from the Côte d'Azur, whether it be over the internet, television or Twitter.  Why does this Grand Prix get my heart racing more than any other (possibly excluding Spa), though?

There are many reasons to count against Monaco for being an awesome race to watch.  Some past races have been outright boring.  The track is as narrow as the room I'm currently occupying, and overtaking is supposedly impossible.  At less than two miles per lap, the circuit is far from modern F1 venues in both circuit length and safety, and the cars barely average 100mph over those 2.075 miles.  What makes the Monaco Grand Prix so fascinating, then?

I'll start with my background to the race.  As I've mentioned before, I was first introduced to the sport by my father who had been a passive fan since the 1950s (in the early days the occasional "Wide World of Sports" was the only F1 exposure Americans like him received).  The first race he ever saw covered on American television, broadcast in black and white on the television in his childhood home, was the Monaco Grand Prix.  He remembers seeing Stirling Moss and Graham Hill climb the podium over the ensuing years.  He remembers the early days of the tunnel and the many names of the hairpin.  He also remembers the cars that landed in the harbor ten years apart as well as the horrific death of Lorenzo Bandini broadcast live, the flames of his boiling Ferrari fed by the wash of the television helicopter's blades.

My father has seen a little of everything over the years, and he thought it was my turn.  He woke me up early one Sunday morning because he thought I would appreciate the technical nature of the sport and the extreme talent of the drivers.  That morning was the Monaco Grand Prix, barely a few laps old.


Of course I had no knowledge of the drivers, the location or the history of the race, but I was beyond awestruck.  I won't go into why I was blown away by the sport (I could fill a long blog with that), but part of the allure was this whimsical location:  A tiny principality situated on the French Riveira, the epitome of old world opulence and modern glamour, contrasted by these sleek, sexy hypercars that seemingly defied physics.  Seeing the cars blast past the historic casino or traverse the harborside, meters away from the Mediterranean was something so alien from any other form of racing.  I was immediately hooked.

As I've come to immerse myself in every aspect of Formula 1, one facet that I cannot overlook is history.  Always a fan of the tradition, stories and ghosts that surround such events, Monte Carlo has a bit of everything.  The race has been run on virtually the same roads since 1929, which isn't hard to discern through the grainy footage of those early Monaco Grands Prix.  The track was a treacherous one when it was first defined.  Its mixture of road surfaces and vulnerability to the Mediterranean's changing weather was a perfect way to test cars and drivers alike, and even 80 years ago there was little room for error within its narrow streets.
As the cars grew faster and the principality thrived, the face of the Grand Prix changed in some ways.  Racing was dangerous, the drivers were a mix of aristocrats and mechanics, and Monaco soon gained importance in the international motor sports scene.  One could see a little bit of everything in this tiny principality's races.  By 1936 the race was a part of the European championship and helped pioneer the use of lap time-based qualifying (rather than the balloting procedures used in the early races).  The Regenmeister Rudy Caracciola won that year for Mercedes-Benz.

By the official start of the Formula One World Championship, it saw Juan Manuel Fangio secure his first F1 win (in 1950, and he would win again later that decade).  Stirling Moss, the British legend, won three times on the Monte Carlo streets, although an overall Championship always eluded him.  Jackie Stewart won thrice here, too, as well as a slew of one-off victors whose racing immortality was wrought by the twisty streets of the Monegasques.


The statistics that always sit in my mind, though, are the drivers who have won at Monaco more than any others---a virtual "Who's Who" of timeless champions.  Only a dozen drivers in history have ever won here more than once.  Alain Prost earned four Monaco wins during the 1980s.  Almost a third of two-time World Champion Graham Hill's F1 victories came here; his record five wins earned him the nickname "Mr. Monaco," although others merely called him "The King."  His record stood for decades, and is now tied by seven-time World Champion Michael Schumacher (who, shockingly at the time, did not win the first Monaco race I ever watched).  For me, though, the jaw-dropping statistic that resonates is the number of times Ayrton Senna found the top step of the podium here:  Six.  That record includes five straight victories, only broken one year by Prost.

I found it very interesting hearing Michael Schumacher talk this weekend about his memories at this circuit.  He was asked about his favorite moment, and the first that came to mind was in 1994.  It was that year, he reminisced, that he first experienced "flow" in a race car---the otherworldly moment when you lose consciousness of the world around you, when every inch of the car's carbon fiber skin becomes an extension of your own.  It was in Monte Carlo that he first experienced it, and he'll never forget that moment.


This may bring back the words of Senna from years before, popularly known nowadays for the voice-over they provide during his pole laps in qualifying.  He spoke of the spiritual moment when he was no longer driving the car with effort, it was just happening.  It was automatic and flawless.  Few drivers truly experience this, although many will claim to have tasted it briefly.  For those who are genuine, the fickle circuit rewards them greatly.

This is another aspect of the race that fascinates me.  To succeed at Monaco, you have to be perfect.  Any incapacity, carelessness or neglect will be punished by the guardrails that now patrol the circuit's extremities. The corners approach so quickly that a driver can never afford to be "behind the car" as he drives.  The incessant bumps and greasy pavement require the utmost feel for the car and management of the tires.  And the layout demands entirely new parts to be machined in European factories and baked in multimillion-dollar autoclaves.
If anything, the challenge of the Monaco Grand Prix seems perfectly suited to test the F1 circus.  Remember, though, this is a track that is relatively unchanged since 1929.  Eighty-three years ago, Grand Prix planners had no notion of downforce, 700+ horsepower and carbon fiber.  The track was designed to test the drivers and cars of that age.

Somehow the ingredients were just right.  Somehow a race was created that was perfect enough to throw the biggest of loops at the cars and drivers of yesterday and today.  Yes, the circuit in Monte Carlo is extremely out of place compared to the rest of the F1 calendar, but the Grand Prix is a welcome anachronism that exists outside of the rest of Formula 1's guidelines and norms.  It's the perfect mix of high society, the latest technology, plenty of prestige and history.  Drivers may win on brand new $1 billion circuits in faraway lands where speeds reach 210mph, but every driver out there would give it up for a win in  the narrow streets of Monaco.  To reach the top step of the podium here (where you will receive your trophy in the royal family's skybox) means you have tested your mettle and supreme driving talent and have been deemed worthy by the racing gods.  Your name will forever rest beside Senna, Schumacher, Hill, Fangio and others under the heading of "Monaco Grand Prix winners".  Simply put, there's nothing like it in Formula 1 or anywhere else in motor sport.

The Modern Teammate Dynamic

After qualifying for the British Grand Prix concluded today, I had a conversation with a friend of mine on the subject of teammates. It was an interesting reflection to have a year after Mark Webber drove one of the most determined races I have ever seen after his team nonchalantly threw him under the bus following Vettel's front wing mishap. To this day I still think the quip "Not bad for a number two driver" was one of my most favorite things a driver has ever said. It was succinct, pointed, curt and it said a ton about the situation. Props to the Aussie for saying it after his fabulous victory last year, and props to the team for sticking with him (this coming after recurrences of his ongoing feud with bicycles).

"I guess I always thought of teammates as getting along," my friend revealed in the car today.

I shook my head and proceeded to tell stories for a while (which probably sounded like babble. After all, a short time later we nearly rear-ended a vehicle), and it really got me thinking about Webber, Vettel and the teammate dynamic.

As I started to explain, when it comes to teammates in Formula 1, it's business first and friendship later. I'm sure Webber and Vettel can get along in a professional setting, but would they voluntarily visit each other or trade gifts at Christmas? Of course not. That's far from being detrimental, though, as we saw with Mark's drive at Silverstone last year. He hip-checked his hotshot teammate at the start, refused to look back, drove flawlessly and won the race at the exact time a profound statement like that was required. He wanted to send a message to his team that he is not washed up and not going to concede to a younger, quicker teammate despite Red Bull's best efforts. Good on ya, Mark, I thought that was fantastic.

If only all teammate rivalries could produce such results with so little drama (comparatively, I mean, to the incidents at McLaren in 2007, per se). Many still remember the seething hatred that ripped the Silver Arrows apart when a proud Fernando Alonso was suddenly upstaged on the year of his big McLaren break by a smiling, steely Brit named Lewis Hamilton. The on track battles said so much, yet it was accompanied by the complete disdain showcased whenever the drivers had to be in close proximity with one another. It was illustrated also by the pit stop which came to define the hatred the two shared for each other (with Alonso purposely pausing before leaving his shared pit stall so that Hamilton would not have a shot at pole position before time expired).

What many forget is the mammoth battle McLaren were having for the championship this year. They forget how much of a non-factor Alonso was that year, save for a handful of victories that failed to outshine the wondrous results wrought by young Lewis. They also seem to forget just how close McLaren came to winning the World Drivers Championship that year. That heated rivalry simultaneously brought McLaren's pilots to the brink of a championship, but it also lost them the world title given how evenly the points were distributed between them. This has been the scenario at Ferrari when Michael Schumacher was selected by his team over Rubens Barrichello, and it was similarly what Red Bull Racing faced last year with a talented squad in Vettel and Webber.

So yes, having the rivalries may prevent a team from having a driver win the championship, but honestly I would rather have natural performances and a lost title than manufactured points totals in the hopes of getting one driver on top (last year, Massa with Alonso, anyone?). Just like any sport, competition breeds better performances. F1 inherently knows that on an engineering level given how fast the technology and advancements progress, but this year many argue that since the sport has become The Vettel Show, the rest of the competition is just lacking. Ferrari have admitted that, depending on the results of the next couple of races, they may give up on this year's championship and focus on next year's. I have no doubt that other teams will follow suit, and rightfully so; remember the advantage the Brawn team enjoyed in 2008?

Even my usual group of race watchers admits that while we really like Vettel as a person, it would be neat to see him get beaten now and again. That pushes him to improve. That pushes his team to improve. It's good for the sport. I still remember the days not so long ago when Schumacher was dominating every year, and quite a few people stopped watching. Some tuned in just to see if he would lose. Of course, this brings me back to the teammate battles, as it is still debatable how many races Barrichello lost because his team told him to let Schumi by somehow. I respect the fact that eventually he couldn't take that anymore and began to speak about it before leaving Ferrari, but his countrymen still remember those days in the same breath with the Brazilian's name. It just shows how intense and deep-seeded these rivalries can go.

Today I talked quite a bit about another great example: Gilles Villeneuve. He was young, he was talented and his rivalry with his veteran Ferrari teammate Didier Pironi eventually ended under tragic circumstances.

Known as one of the greatest drivers never to win the Formula 1 World Championship, Villeneuve was loved by his fans worldwide and became Canada's patron saint of motor racing. His name became synonymous with Ferrari, driving both with Jody Sheckter and then with Pironi. Villeneuve was long considered one of the most purely talented drivers the sport has ever seen. In his brief stint in the sport his win percentage fantastic as was his finishing record (when he finished the race, that is). Come the 1982 San Marino Grand Prix, though, the already-present rivalry between the Canadian and Pironi came to the front.

The dominant Ferraris' only real competition in the race, the Renaults, dropped out of the race early, leaving Villeneuve leading Pironi for many laps. Their lead was enormous, and given the Ferrari's reliability issues (both mechanically and fuel-wise), the team instructed the drivers to slow down to make sure both cars finished the race. From here the story gets a bit mysterious, as we will never really know what happened for sure.

Supposedly Villeneuve heard the order and believed that meant the cars would both slow and finish the race. Pironi supposedly thought that meant they would slow but that he and Villeneuve were still free to race.

After the message the Canadian's lap times dropped by two to three seconds, but soon he was overtaken by his teammate. He was initially surprised and claimed that he thought Pironi was doing it to spice up an otherwise boring race, so he re-overtook and once again thought it would stay that way. His lap times dropped back to the slower times, but Pironi eventually ran a normal race speed lap and overtook him again. Villeneuve responded and re-overtook, beginning to wonder what was happening, but he slowed and maintained the lead for the next few laps. On the final lap of the race Villeneuve took a slower line through a corner and in doing so left it open. Pironi dove underneath of him and rocketed to the finish line in front of a stunned Villeneuve. Ferrari had maintained their one-two finish, but an overjoyed Pironi was overshadowed on the podium by an angry and confused Villeneuve who felt as though he had been betrayed.

Pironi shrugged off the incident, believing that is what the team intended, and because of his response Villeneuve, in part blinded by anger, swore never to talk to his teammate again. Two weeks later, during qualifying for the Belgian Grand Prix at the legendary Zolder circuit, Pironi chose not to talk to Villeneuve who was still fuming about the race a fortnight before. With the end of the qualifying session near, Pironi was 0.6 seconds ahead of Villeneuve with both drivers still in the top ten. The team believed Gilles was on an in-lap, but some believed he was trying to do one more lap to try to better his teammate.

Either way, a collision occurred with a couple of corners to go when a slowing car tried to move aside for the Ferrari, which at the time was traveling over 120mph. Villeneuve's helmet was torn from his head and his car launched skyward for over 100 meters. When it finally hit the ground the young Canadian was thrown from it and landed in the catch fence nearby. A neck fracture irreversibly put Villeneuve on life support for a period of time before his family chose to turn it off, and Pironi regretted the feud and his relationship with Gilles for the rest of his life.

While we may never know what happened in the final days of Gilles Villeneuve's life, it cannot be denied that this competition between teammates became tragically immortalized after the events at Zolder (where a corner is now named for the late Canadian). Whenever teammate rivalries are brought up, I believe this one ranks right up there in its legendary status.

But let's bring this babble back to Webber and Vettel. (I hope in the meantime I didn't cause any car accidents or missed appointments.) Contrasting them with the semi-healthy relationship Jenson Button and Lewis Hamilton have, I can't help but feel that this balance is exactly what is needed for Red Bull right now. Webber's hand-me-down situations have inspired him, but like Zorro always preached, he has never thus attacked out of anger. It has always been a quiet determination with him that normally leads to consistent and strong finishes. These, in turn, keep him within striking distance of Vettel's heels, and that temptation alone is enough to keep him going.

Inevitably there will be days like today when the Aussie is able to get the best of the dominant German (the younger one, not the one with the red helmet), and I would like to think that so long as Webber can pull one out from under Vettel's nose every once in a while that he will still be deemed an asset to RBR. It would be a shame to see retirement come early for this seasoned vet merely because his younger teammate not only beats him consistently but because the team helps perpetuate that finishing order. Don't get me wrong, I'm not insinuating that Vettel's fantastic string of wins would not have happened without unequal treatment by Red Bull. I'm more referring to the few instances where favoritism has occurred like with the front wing. It's situations like those when a guy like Webber (who could use some reassurance from his team now and again) might feel a bit slighted, and you know, I would not blame him for a minute.

'The Modern Teammate Dynamic' can either be a blessing or a curse. The key is to finding the right balance, and to do this the team needs to make sure things don't get out of hand. Where will we someday view the animosity that may or may not be present between Seb and Mark? At this point it's tough to tell, but I have a feeling that the events of tomorrow morning's race, in a season where the young German is hot on his way to a second World Drivers Championship, may be extremely telling.

The State of Formula 1

Oh my goodness.

It's been quite a while since I've written in this blog (nearly a month, in fact), and today I can definitely say that the fantastic Formula 1 race has moved me to add another piece.

It's kind of ironic, actually. When I first started this blog I (erroneously) thought I'd have enough time and opportunities to write both what happens in The Garage and what happens in the racing world. Thus far I've done a little of the former and none of the latter. I feel it would be a travesty, though, to let such a brilliant race slip by unnoticed in the annals of this collection; for what we saw today was the culmination of quite a bit of work aimed at changing the face of the sport. Today, we saw the fruits of that labor.

I'm not going to say that the state of F1 is perfect the way it is right now. No, no. It's far from it. When Jenson and Lewis will be paid a combined $175 million for their efforts at McLaren, or when the teams at the back of the grid are undergoing a rabid trial by fire to make it to the green flag each race, F1 is still not fixed. Saying it like that makes it seem as though I'm accusing it of being broken, which I also don't think is the truth. I've loved the sport since I first saw it, even when its harshest critics walked away in droves after the USGP in 2005 or when lack of on-track passing prompted many to label the races as boring. While I can see their points, I've never felt this way. But apparently in the past few years the head brass of the FIA have, and thus the tweaking began.

Every year they've tried to snatch downforce from these brilliant aerodynamicists (who are always able to claw it back). They've changed the tyres. They've changed the engines. They've changed the qualifying. On and on and on. But now that most of those changes seem old hat to fans now, the newest changes come to the forefront: The return of KERS, the new Pirelli tyres and the DRS.

Addressing them in order, I've been mixed about the Kinetic Energy Recovery System. While I can see how some would argue that it's road-car-relevant, at this point it's become an overtaking device both for the act and for preventing it. Yes some cars are investigating and even starting to employ similar systems, but in the world of cost cutting and budget issues, investing loads of cash into this was a bit much to me. But what does it do to the racing? As we've seen this season (now that nearly everyone has it), it hasn't been half bad. True there's still the chance of severe electrocution or noxious fumes like the ones that poured out of Kimi's Ferrari a while back, but overall it's made a difference. Red Bull claims it's 0.3 seconds per lap for these six seconds of 80 extra horsepower. The weight of the system is what prevents that number from being more advantageous, but in a world where millions are poured into tenths, that 0.3 doesn't look too shabby.

Pirelli have also been under the criticizing eye of the public since the start of the season, and for them it's been a mixed bag. No one expected them to jump right into the pinnacle of motor sports and deliver cracking tyres that are on the level with Bridgestone, but through the help of vets like Nick Heidfeld and Pedro de la Rosa, the Italians have done a good job. The glaring issue that's plagued them so far this season was exemplified off the racing line in Shanghai: These tyres wear heavily. You'll be hard pressed in most races this year to run a two-stopper, and the thought of a one-stop race is basically out of the question. To me, though, I love this. Now it goes back to the skill of the driver. Can he command the most out of his car while protecting most of his rubber? In pressure situations, can he keep his cool and not scrub off their speed or flat spot them into oblivion? It definitely spices things up.

Gnawing at the back of my mind, though, is the fact that one Bernard Ecclestone said something very similar long ago. I rarely submit and say that the man was 100% correct, but whether you agree with his brash nature, his scathing and often cutthroat comments or not, Ecclestone knows what's right more often than not. (Don't even get me started on his ridiculous ideas of artificial rain.) He had said that it will be good to have tyres that aren't very good because then you'll get chaos. You'll have scrambling and strategy adjustment. You'll have three-, four- or five-stop races. Orders will be mixed and the racing will be more exciting. And damnit, I'm afraid he's dead right on this one. That said, I'd be fine if Pirelli never change their compounds from here on out. So what if the drivers complain? Like I've said before, they're supposed to be the best in the world. They're paid to drive the cars. Heading into this season some said pushing a few extra buttons would be tough for them. Then it's tough! Let them prove themselves, and let the best ones win. I think Pirelli are doing that in more ways than one.

The other day someone asked me what I thought of the Drag Reduction System, and the first thought that came to my head was "It's gimmicky." I still hold to that statement, but that doesn't mean I don't like it. Technologically it's phenomenal: A system that can instantaneously remove 100 lbs of downforce from the cars that can only be used if you're the trailing car and are within one second of another car on a certain part of the track? A system that, once deployed, snaps back to its normal configuration within 0.05 seconds of when you press the brake? Wow. Just the engineering to make that work makes my head spin. But the more important thing to think about, especially if you're a critic of the DRS, is that fans are getting their wish.

How many times have you heard people gripe for the past ten years (heck, the past 20!) about how the cars have too much downforce. The aero is disrupted when you're too close to the car in front of you, and the cars stick to the ground so much easier now. The days of the 1971 Monza-type races are gone. Blah blah blah. By slipping the DRS into the rules this year, Formula 1 has given the fans back the days of close following and slipstreaming while not giving so much that the spectacle decays into a Talladega-like draft-fest. Watching Hamilton hunt Vettel today was something of beauty, but part of the tension came from the fact that you knew he was close enough to use both the KERS and DRS when they hit that backstretch. From there it would be Hamilton's slingshot versus Vettel's KERS and an impossibly fast Adrian Newey masterpiece. The on-screen graphics showed the speed differentials when Webber was slicing and dicing his way through the field, and his speeds would be 10 or 15 kph higher than the other car's. You knew he had the speed, and from there it's down to the skill of the driver to use it accordingly. To me that's fascinating and enthralling.

What the KERS and DRS do is, ultimately, spice up the show. Their gimmicky-ness aside, I almost hate to admit, but they're doing their jobs. China was fantastic. Even some of the F1 drivers like Lotus tester Karun Chandhok said that this was the best dry race they've seen in a long time, not just for the fact that we actually saw the wunderkind Vettel get passed on track for the lead (in an incident that wasn't at the start of the race or due to an accident/mechanical failure). Watching the race today we said that to catch Vettel Hamilton would have to drive the car, not just drive it. He would have to utilize his tools, mind his tyres and attack the once-untouchable German. And by God, he did. We said the same about Webber if he hoped to climb up from the depths of the grid, and even though he didn't have KERS, Webber drove what was probably the drive of the entire race. Unbelievable.

It's not that before this race I hadn't noticed how the changes of recent years have affected the sport, it's just that today it was most purely exemplified in a spectacle that basically defined why I love Formula 1. The racing was pure, there weren't accidents galore like the ones that have come to define IndyCar this year. There weren't competition, debris or full-course cautions today to bunch up the field to create a false fantastic finish like at Talladega. This was a race that was uninterrupted. This was a race that featured the most technologically-advanced cars on the planet racing within seconds of each other despite being made completely different from every other car. This was a race that had action, suspense, seething talent and a worldwide television audience in the hundreds of millions to watch. This is the sport I love. This is what Formula 1 should always be.