It’s the easiest thing in the world to glance at a list of Formula One lap times, point to the names at the bottom and make disparaging remarks about how slow these drivers are.
They are not slow at all. Or, at least, not if you stand on the outside of corners such as Copse at Silverstone or Estoril at Magny Cours and watch the cars go through. It makes your eyes water and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up as you witness the massive commitment involved.
At Copse, the track disappears into a 90–degree right-hander, the apex of which is hidden by the steel barriers marking the end of the pit lane. I can tell you from experience that going in there in an ordinary road car calls for braking, changing down a gear – and taking a deep breath. The run-off on the outside suddenly looks very small indeed.
And yet these guys are hammering past the pits, flat in top gear at 175mph, barely lifting from the throttle before flooring it again as the car is pitched right. At those speeds, they have to get the turn-in point inch-perfect. Thanks to the incredible tyre technology created by Bridgestone, the grip is phenomenal. But try doing that with your backside about six inches from the ground while bracing yourself to deal with unimaginable g-forces.
The point is that the more you watch, the more your respect increases for the slowest in the field. Working on the basis that all 22 drivers are there because they are talented – okay, there may be the occasional exception but the absence of skill will expose them eventually - then, by definition, they are at the back because they are not quite as quick as the good guys but, mainly, because their cars are hard work.
Returning to the analogy with the cars you and I drive to work, you will know how it requires your full attention to hustle along in a standard saloon whereas a driver you instantly dislike can breeze by with one hand on the wheel of his Porsche while smoothing his greying locks with the other. Don’t you just hate that?
Check out the on-board pictures from any back quarter of the grid runner in F1 and there is invariably a war going on in the cockpit; arms working in all directions as the car fails to go where it has been pointed. If the quick guys are going through the corner at, say, 168.75 mph, then our friends are doing it at something like 162.10 mph. Which is still mighty quick. But with the thought that the car they’re sitting in could pitch them off the road with no trouble at all. The man in the F1 equivalent of the Porsche may be faster, but which of the two is the braver?
It’s worth remembering that the current world champion, Fernando Alonso, started with Minardi, qualified 19th for his first Grand Prix and finished 12th. His best result that year was tenth in Hungary. And look at him now.
Someone has to be the slowest, a fact which ought to engage those of us in the paddock who are supposed to know about these things but come from a long lunch, pick up the time sheet and shake our heads sagely when glancing towards the bottom. Sometimes life just ain’t fair…
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Maurice Hamilton is a motor sport correspondent for The Observer and BBC Radio 5 Live.
He has covered more than 450 Grands Prix as a freelance writer for magazines in Australia, South Africa, Japan and the United States. Maurice is also the author of several books on motor sport.