Candide and Formula One

"It is demonstrable," said he, "that things cannot be otherwise than as they are; for as all things have been created for some end, they must necessarily be created for the best end." Master Pangloss in Candide, Voltaire (François-Marie Arouet), 1759.

This weekend, looking for something else entirely, I stumbled across this quotation. Naturally, this set my mind to rambling...

I would not argue one bit that motor racing and life today is, in general, far more convenient than it ever was in the past.. From the majesty of your own home you can witness an entire season of the FIA Formula One World Championship or the NASCAR Nextel Cup Series on television. You can obtain virtually instant analysis, results, or about any other bit of information you may desire to know about F1 without stirring from in front of your computer. This is, indeed, the best time to be a ran fan. All has been created for the best end - our enjoyment of racing.

Well, as convenient and wonderful as all this is, it comes at a price. That is, in the opinion of a few of us. Perhaps a very few of us. Maybe just me.

Since I rarely watch an F1 event live - catching it on the replay later, I often have at least an idea as to the general happenings of the event. This means that I read the brief reports that are generated in the wake of the race. They are usually workmanlike, informative, and a tad dry. Part of this is due to the almost instantaneous deadlines that the Media - formerly known as The Press, live with as part and parcel of that world.

Some years ago, I guess it was 1998, I finally terminated my subscription to Autosport, a magazine I had subscribed to for many, many years (since about 1961) and read for years prior to that, since 1954. Despite Nigel Roebuck being on the staff and even writing the F1 race reports, it was merely mediocre in many ways. And pretty dismal in other ways. Especially when I would wade through one of the issues from the late 1990's - those of the 2000's are scarcely a bit different - after reading an issue from the Gregor Grant or Pete Lyons days. Make no mistake, I genuinely like Roebuck and it was not so much his reports, but the quagmire they were dropped into.

I genuinely find that as Good as F1 in 2004 may be, I still find the 1974 or 1964 or 1954 seasons much more compelling as far as my interest goes. However, I also realize that were I a teenager in 2004, as I was in the early 1960's, that the words of Master Pangloss would be music to my ears. Not only are the races covered on television, but so are the qualifying sessions. Information on a weekend's event is readily accessible and available with just a few clicks. Now that is convenient.

Here in the United States, it was hit and miss for finding out the results of the "major" domestic events - the Indianapolis 500 Mile races being the notable exception, much less some European race. Generally, if you were fortunate to have someone in the sports department of the local paper with an interest in motor racing, you got at least the results - even if in a somewhat truncated form - of the races he was interested in. With luck, they included those you were interested in as well.

Something often overlooked by many is that Today soon becomes Yesterday. Much is made by some about never looking back, celebrating the wonders of today, and living for now. By clear implication, those who happen to be less celebratory of the present are viewed with some suspicion. Worse, they are often relegated into irrelevance by those live for today.

Today, Formula One scarcely resembles its former self from several decades ago. Then again, neither does much else that you can care to name. Although change is an inevitability, it can be more an illusion than a reality. In F1, the idea of change is quite real. As the access to F1 by viewers has expanded, F1 has undergone a huge transformation.

Events are now run to a tight schedule, the procedures at each event a carbon copy of the others. Starting times, practice schedules, podium ceremonies, the placement of trackside advertising, driver interviews, you name it, all unvaryingly the same from race to race to race. Oh, there are minor differences so that the astute can differentiate one venue from another - Malaysia from Spain from Canada from France and so forth. Monaco is one of the few venues left that even The Untrained Eye can tell from the others without any trouble.

Although this is all perhaps great and wonderful, that information flows like a spring flood, that there are almost literally no surprises when it comes to a race weekend, that one can discuss F1 with someone a continent or so away - instantly, the cars are marvels of technology, why do I have this lack of passion for the current F1 product? Not a dislike, just a lack of that passion that comes from really being, well, passionate about something.

I had high hopes for the 2003 season. I actually thought that the changes being introduced might stir up the pot a bit more than it turned out doing. Unlike many, I liked the idea of single car, one lap qualifying. It has been successfully used in America for many years. The former qualifying format had become something that I no longer particularly cared for. By limiting both the number of laps and tyres, well, whatever rings your chimes.

At the moment, the worktable in my home office - just behind my left shoulder as I write this - is covered with materials from the 1964 Grand Prix season. In a stack on the left of my desk is a growing pile of materials for the 2004 season - the NASCAR Nextel Cup season. A project in contemporary history I plan to do this year is one very similar to what I once did many years ago for season after season - keep a running journal of the events and my own race stories and event data culled from here and there.

Why not do the same for F1? There are apparently many, many others out there already doing that for starters. Plus, take this any way you want, given a choice I would select the NASCAR events in a skinny minute over F1. Partly a matter of seeing Festung Bernie up close and personal at Indianapolis a few seasons ago. Partly a reaction to the all too common visceral condemnations I hear from F1 fans whenever NASCAR is mentioned - I often wish I could reach through the screen and squeeze their little pencil necks until their eyeballs popped out and roll about on the floor. Fewer things irritate me more than someone who is an "F1 Fan," or a "NASCAR Fan," or a whatever fan who feels free to bash any other series in the mistaken notion that such actions enhance his favorite series.

Something that has bothered me for some time about F1 is that the events generally only last maybe 75 to 90 minutes, rarely approaching the maximum limit of 120 minutes. These are more akin to sprint races than grand events for which at least two to three hours and perhaps 500 kilometers should be invested. The missing minutes seem to be filled with endless hype and dribble that makes me appreciate the value of silence as a concept. A few years I found that it was much more pleasant to watch an F1 event with the sound off. Indeed, I was amazed that it took me that long to figure that out.

F1 is an aspect of modernity that simply is. It is a product. I find the characters in the drama less than compelling and generally, well, bland. The background on my computer is a picture taken during the 1964 season. It is a group photo of eight Grand Prix drivers: Jim Clark, Richie Ginther, Bruce McLaren, John Surtees, Graham Hill, Jo Bonnier, Phil Hill, and Dan Gurney. Even 40 years later I can vividly recall that season and scarcely need to refer to any references in discussing how these eight did not only in the Grand Prix events they participated in, but all the other races they drive in as well.

I cannot easily recall any specific race winners from the 1994 season. Or the last seasons for that matter. If asked, I also say, "Schumacher?" and I am usually correct. It simply doesn't register. Not a dislike, not even a lack of interest as such, it's just that all the events seem to have together into a big glump. Having been confused no end of times by the lack of numbers on the cars or even the ability to discern the helmet colors, I have largely given up and just hope the screen graphics are correct.

About a week ago I saw an album - or is the correct term "CD" these days? - and started to buy it. It was an album I enjoyed for years before first the record and then the cassette tape wore out, Music from Big Pink by The Band from 1968. I turned it over to read what was on the rear cover of the album and noticed that instead of the 11 songs on the album, there were 20! I didn't want 20 songs - mostly "outtakes" and "alternate takes" - I only wanted the original 11 songs. Sorry, this is the only way it comes. I put it back. It is still sitting there I would imagine. I have done this countless times. There seems to be this notion on the part of the music conglomerates that adding tracks to an album somehow justifies the gouging they routinely engage in with their wares. I liked the original just fine and adding extra songs makes it not the original.

Which is perhaps my take on F1 to an extent.

If you have stayed with me this long, you are perhaps wondering exactly where all this is supposedly leading. While there is much to commend Today over Yesterday, I often find that Yesterday was not all that bad in some ways. It certainly seemed to be much more fun than today. And, yes, there has to be someone to pay the bills. But, it seems staggering that while a top flight Grand Prix team could get by quite well on a total budget of perhaps £50,000 tops, even allowing for inflation that does not equate to the £250,000,000+ that some teams seem to burn through without trying during a season these days.

To quote The Poets, "Money Can't Buy Me Love."

Be seeing you.

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