USA Grand Prix Review

When Ralf Schumacher crashed on Friday on the banked Turn 13, in almost identical fashion to the accident that sid5elined him for six races last year, and when Toyota tester Ricardo Zonta suffered a near-simultaneous Michelin tyre failure, the warning bells sounded for the French company. By the end of Friday practice, more tyre problems had apparently been detected. The re-surfacing of the entire track, including the diamond-cut grooves in Turn 13, had significantly increased the loadings on the rear left tyre.

Bridgestone were OK. They were generally more conservative in their tyre construction, and had also received valuable data from the Indianapolis 500 thanks to affiliate Firestone. Michelin, however, warned their teams that they could not guarantee the durability of their rubber beyond ten laps, advised those teams not to race, and began working on other options. The first of which was to urgently fly in tyres from France, although the FIA warned that that would, obviously, contravene this year's tyre rules.

The FIA suggested two options to the Michelin teams: go slower through Turn 13 or come in repeatedly to change damaged tyres. Qualifying came and went. Then the big sticking point reared its head; the Michelin teams, plus Minardi and Jordan - the 'Group of 9' - and Bernie Ecclestone too, it appears, suggested a temporary chicane before Turn 13. Those nine teams made an ultimatum: no chicane, no race. Ferrari weren't in the negotiations about the chicane; nor did it appear as though they cared to agree.

The FIA, it seems, rejected the chicane idea, washed their hands, and left it to the teams. Ferrari washed their hands and left it to the FIA. How far did the chicane proposal go in terms of making a performance or results concession to the Bridgestone teams? An impasse was reached. Then Jordan reneged and sent their cars to the dummy grid to join the Ferraris. Minardi followed. So too did the Michelin runners - who then came in after the warm-up lap. It left six cars to race, the sport red-faced, and the fans fuming.

Additionally, this debacle comes at an inopportune time for Formula One as a sport. This was a clear demonstration of the fact that F1 is now being run by a bunch of people who fail miserably to put the greater good of the sport ahead of their own selfish agendas. Justifiably, fans are thoroughly sick of the bickering and politics. Such an event as this may have resulted in fan surprise, disappointment and amazement had it happened 5 years ago. Now, the reaction is one of anger, resentment and the feeling this was both predictable and preventable.

But as to the starting point of the mess, there can be no doubt. Michelin had erred, and erred badly. It was, unfortunately, their fault. It was a screw-up of the highest order. It was not as though there was no level playing field; there was, but Michelin had simply brought tyres that were unable to cope with it. And accordingly it should not have been a matter of others making concessions to bring them back into the picture, such as by allowing them to fly in a new compound for their teams to use on race day.

Ross Brawn was entirely correct when he said that if the FIA allowed that, then it would be setting a dangerous precedent. It could conceivably open the door to people qualifying on ultra-soft rubber, only to then declare them unsafe and be permitted to change them for the race. If two wrongs don't make a right, then to condone a blatant contravention of the current one-tyre regulations when one participant can't comply would not be correct either.

The rules of the game, the level playing field, also include the track layout. At Indy, that meant Turn 13 in all its glory. Yes, there had been temporary chicanes employed previously to slow cars down. In fact, there had been three of them in 1994, in Spain, Canada and Belgium. But the ones at Montreal and Spa had been conceived prior to the race weekend, and the tyre chicane at Barcelona had been in the context of the terrible litany of accidents after which everyone was agreeing to such knee-jerk responses.

As the FIA suggested, the Michelin teams could simply have taken Turn 13 at a decreased speed. Even my fiancee, who otherwise has little interest in racing, when hearing what the problem had been, immediately asked, "Can't they just go slower through that corner?" Of course, at such a high-speed part of the track, there was the potential danger of a Bridgestone runner at full pace bearing down on a Michelin user, but objectively speaking this solution was theoretically sensible and possible.

At this point perhaps we have to admit a certain bias, in that the webmaster of this site is a rugby referee, and the site author is both an occasional cricket umpire, and a lawyer by profession. In other words, we have a degree of sympathy for officialdom and upholding the rules by which an activity is to be conducted. Here the rules of the game were clear: the circuit was what it was, and one set of tyres had to last the whole race. The starting point is not to accommodate those who couldn't play by those rules.

In that case, one could understand why Ferrari was in no mood to agree to the chicane proposal. Let's be clear about this. Over the years, we have not been fans of some of Ferrari's antics, and especially their refusal to submit to real cost-cutting initiatives. But those have been instances where everyone else has been trying to create a more equal playing field for all, whereas Ferrari have refused to let go of the decided benefits they hold (even if some of those bonuses haven't worked for them this year).

This was a different situation altogether. Here the rules were the same for everyone, and in that sense the level playing field existed already. It was just that the Michelin teams could not competitively comply with those rules. There was no reason why Ferrari or any of the Bridgestone teams should have conceded anything. In fact, as Jordan's Colin Kolles pointed out, previously when the durability of the Bridgestone has been marginal and their teams' performances have been compromised, they have taken it on the chin.

But before investigating the suggestions they did make, two other points need to be raised. One is that, despite appearances, it is beginning to emerge that the Michelin teams really didn't care to solve the problem. At one of the meetings held during the weekend, the tyre issue was brought up as an afterthought. If this is true, then the Michelin teams are undoubtedly more guilty of saying "stuff you" than anyone else within this debacle.

The second is an important point that so far hasn't received much press. As the pinnacle of motorsport technology, why did the Michelin teams not make a greater effort to solve the issue by engineering their cars in such a way so that the tyres could last? As late as Saturday, the likes of Williams' Sam Michael seemed to suggest that they thought they would not have problems with their tyres as Toyota did. By leaving the problem in the realms of the Piranha Club, it thus also remained in the realms of ugly politics.

So what did the Michelin teams put on the table? To let the Bridgestone runners start from the top six spots on the grid - utter nonsense when the Jordans and Minardis would be gobbled up by the end of lap one. To race only with a chicane in place - thereby unfairly denying the Bridgestone teams the advantage through Turn 13 that they otherwise deserved. To do both of the above and race without scoring points, instead letting the Bridgestone runners take the top six points positions ­ better, but still flawed.

For a start, the Bridgestone teams would still not be getting an advantage in Turn 13. Secondly, how messy and farcical would that have been in itself, for the Michelin teams to race and then, perhaps, be disqualified, and for those that might have finished well outside the podium to somehow get onto it and be awarded maximum points? How would the annals manage to record that? What point would a victory or a good result hold for a Michelin runner? Was merely putting on a show for the fans incentive enough?

The problem is, the Michelin teams were placed in a situation where, if things had proceeded as normal, they would have been at a gross disadvantage, both in terms of on-track performance through Turn 13, and in terms of eventual points-scoring, assuming that all those 14 cars would retire or they would have to make so many pit stops the Jordans and Minardis would end up 3rd through 6th anyway. Any solution they offered would have had to be commensurate to that disadvantage, in full.

As far as their suggestions went, they never came close to going far enough. If they had gone further down the track of inventing imaginative solutions, how about this: insert a chicane, Bridgestone runners only to take the grid, Michelin runners eligible for points (i.e. they are eligible competitors), but starting from the pit lane after 5 laps, i.e. automatic five lap penalty. That would assure the Bridgestone runners of the top six places, on the track and in the points, subject to incidents and retirements.

Why make the Michelin runners eligible for points? Firstly, although it meant that they could take points off the Bridgestone teams, eligibility for points equates to eligibility to compete. How stiff would it be for a Bridgestone user to be taken out by a Michelin runner who, by being ineligible for points, was essentially ineligible to participate? Secondly, had the Michelin teams accepted the FIA's suggestion of going slower through Turn 13 or repeatedly changing tyres, they would still have been able to score points.

This creative solution of the chicane plus 5 lap penalty for Michelin teams would have replicated as best as possible the conditions had those 14 cars gone slower through Turn 13 by conferring onto them the necessary disadvantage. The nature of the event would remain: 20 cars, all eligible for points, all susceptible to the vagaries that a Grand Prix could throw up (e.g. being taken out by a backmarker), but the result would be made to reflect as far as possible the hindrance Michelin's awful error had brought to their teams.

The grid would then have had two, four, maybe six cars only, and the visual spectre of such a limited field might have caused all parties to reach some kind of eleventh hour agreement. By giving the impression that they would race, then calling them in after the formation lap, they left the stewards at a point of no return. There was no way of aborting or postponing the start any more. It had to go ahead with just the six cars, spread out over the grid, instead of being bunched into the first three rows.

But just as the Michelin teams were unable to be concessionary enough, and therefore the primary blame for the fiasco lay squarely and unquestionably at their and Michelin's door, neither was the FIA anywhere near flexible enough. Though they were within rights to maintain their "you can go slower through Turn 13" stance, their intransigence in refusing to entertain and work with the chicane idea, as we have managed to do above, was equally unfortunate.

They, along with the stewards of a meeting, have shown previously that they can be flexible when the situation calls for it. For example, Spa 1985 was postponed because the track was breaking up. The program for last year's race in Japan was altered because of the typhoon threat. The pity was that here they were either unable or unwilling to show some positive, pro-active leadership, just after they had actually dealt a huge political blow via their proposed regulations package for 2008.

That package, now forgotten in view of events, included a return to wider cars and slick tyres, manual gearboxes, the banning of spare cars and pits-to-car telemetry, a reduction in downforce to a mere 10% of current levels, and the prohibition of traction control. It was everything and more that the fans and the media had been crying out for. Plus, Michelin's massive faux pas had also just added credence to the FIA's push for a single tyre manufacturer, as it had starkly shown the problems caused by a tyre war.

But by failing to broker a successful resolution of the Indianapolis crisis, by not ensuring that events did not dissolve into a farce as they did, the FIA failed to drive home their advantage, and they lost much of the sense in which they could claim the moral high ground. At a time when one of the GPWC's major concerns was the poor administration and lack of leadership emanating from the governing body, in some way the FIA's comparative inaction over the weekend only served to prove that point.

Some have also tried to cast an evil eye at the one-tyre regulation for this season, but we cannot agree with that viewpoint. As we have said before, the rule brought back a driver skill that had been sorely lacking in recent years, that of tyre preservation. We also have the rule to thank for much of the drama and excitement at say Monaco and the Nurburgring. Besides, if the Michelins couldn't last over 10 laps, then whether there were tyre changes or not would have made absolutely no difference.

As a brief aside, where did the weekend's events leave the great Bernie? He is supposedly in cahoots with Max Mosley and the FIA, but here he was siding with the nine teams over the chicane idea. Or was that just his way of playing both sides, as he seeks to regain some of the influence over the sport that he has lost in the last year or so? Either way, it was an unusual sight, seeing a flustered Bernie on the grid, seemingly unable to bring all sides to a compromise.

Ultimately, then, the culpability for the farce lay with Michelin and their teams, and to a lesser but not insignificant extent with the FIA, with Ferrari much less blameworthy, and Jordan practically blameless. Still, the most depressing aspect was how the ability to resolve what was in reality Michelin's problem turned into a political points-scoring exercise between the 'Group of 9', the FIA, and Ferrari. Although at first that seemed avoidable, in hindsight it was always going to end up this way.

And what of the three teams that did race? Stoddart's rationale in starting his two Minardis was interesting. Repeatedly he said that he was taking no joy from being assured of points, he was totally uninterested - but he had sent Christijan Albers and Patrick Friesacher out because Jordan were racing and thus Minardi could ill afford not to. In other words, sheer pragmatism. Is that not a contradiction for someone who is so avowedly keen to abide by his principles and stick it up Ferrari and the FIA?

The sheer joy with which Tiago Monteiro celebrated his maiden podium finish, the first ever for a Portuguese driver, was one of the few positives. There was no sense in which it was a hollow result, and too right. He had driven a faster and more consistent race than Narain Karthikeyan, and there is no shame in getting a result if you are not the best on paper, but your opponents have not been able to get the job done. As the adage goes, to finish first (or in this case, third), first you have to finish (or in this case, start).

Some readers may remember Steven Bradbury, the short track speed skater who won Australia's first ever Winter Olympics gold medal in Salt Lake City - courtesy of some of his opponents falling down in the semi final to allow him into the final, and then courtesy of all his rivals falling over at the last bend in the final itself, whilst Bradbury was running last, allowing him to sweep through to victory. There was nothing hollow in that; the other competitors had tripped over themselves, and here Michelin had tripped up.

That should be the attitude for Monteiro, Karthikeyan, Albers and Friesacher. They legitimately deserved their places and points. It automatically elevated Tiago and Narain out of reject status on this site, and it was Minardi's best result since Pierluigi Martini and Luis Perez Sala came 5th and 6th in the 1989 British GP. Who knows, these might be the best results these drivers ever achieve in their F1 careers. It's gone down in the record books, and as Monteiro rightly pointed out, no one can take that away. Nor should they try to.

The closest parallel in F1 history would probably have to be the 1982 San Marino GP, when only 14 cars showed up because of the FISA v FOCA war. There, Jean-Pierre Jarier came 4th for Osella, scoring 3 of the 5 points that that team would ever score in their history of 132 races. Was it deserved? You betcha. They turned up, they competed, they survived the attrition, and they got their just reward for doing so. And interestingly, that may not have been the only parallel to the events at Indianapolis.

REJECT OF THE RACE
Michelin
Of the myriad culprits, they were the most culpable

Needless to say, it was touch and go between Michael and Rubens as the German came out of the pits from his second stop. Barrichello was ahead going into turn one, but Schumi was also entitled to press his case. Eventually they both pinched their brakes but it was the Brazilian who took to the grass. After that the traditional order to hold station was understandable. To risk having them both feeling frosty towards each other and colliding when the 1-2 was theirs on a platter would have been excruciating silly.

After Monaco, Barrichello had first expressed his frustration at not only playing second fiddle to Schumacher but actually being beaten by Michael fair and square on the track. After this race neither so much as looked at each other, let alone speak to each other, shake hands, or embrace as we have been accustomed to see them doing. Rubens may finally be coming to the harsh realisation that he is destined to join the long list of Schumi's team-mates who have been unable to overcome the Teutonic genius.

At the end of it all, though, Michael will not be savouring his 84th win and his first for 2005. For this was a day when there were hardly any winners, maybe except for Monteiro. Spare a thought for the drivers and mechanics in the Michelin teams, who turned out to be the pawns in the electric political atmosphere, who just want to race and to do their job. As the eloquent David Coulthard poignantly said over the radio on the warm-up lap, "If it's up to me, then I want to try." No-one could put it any better.

And where did the six car race leave the fans? It's always been a contentious matter; is sport entertainment? Does the entertainment value of sport come through close competition and the tension thus generated? Or does it come through witnessing humans perform awe-inspiring superhuman feats? Perhaps it's a healthy mixture of both. But either way, the point is that the mass withdraw of the Michelin teams left the paying public and the millions watching on TV with neither.

Six cars could hardly provide much decent competition; and the only skill that Alonso, Raikkonen, Montoya and co demonstrated on Sunday afternoon was in sitting around twiddling their thumbs. Though all involved did precious little about it, they were right to talk about the need to 'put on a show'. All it took was some form of competition, and some demonstration of skill. Even if they couldn't save the Grand Prix proper, Formula One could have taken a leaf out of cricket's book, to take a sport we're familiar with.

Why couldn't all the teams, or at least the seven Michelin runners, agree to an exhibition race or two after the main event? Perhaps two ten-lap sprint races on the full circuit, with the second race utilising a reverse-grid system? Or maybe a longer 30-lap event, but including a chicane before Turn 13? The possibilities were endless, if only people had the lateral thinking and the flexibility to make it happen. And if they really understood what it meant to 'put on a show'.

The whole debacle could not have happened at a worse place. Just as Formula 1 was making inroads into the American market, this has the potential to do irreparable damage. The sport itself will survive and continue to thrive in its heartland markets, and maybe continue to expand into exotic new locales, but the impact on F1's future in the USA remains to be seen. Fans booing, throwing items onto the track and demanding their money back does not bode well.

In a land where motorsport is contrived to be as close and as casual-viewer-friendly as possible, where the win-by-a-nose finishes in NASCAR and the IRL are commonplace, and where its fans had already witnessed the CART series torn into two by politics, Americans did not need to see a foreign series arrive on its shores, trying to gain a foothold, riven by politics but providing nearly no entertainment value to go along with it. Forget about a second USA GP in the future; maybe forget about even having one.

At the end of it all it seemed a bit too frivolous to be handing out our usual 'Reject of the Race' award, but ultimately what triggered the weekend's events? In a word, Michelin, by making the most monumental blunder in recent F1 history. To them the award goes. But in truth, how the situation unravelled, and how it was mishandled by the Michelin teams, by the 'Group of 9' and then also by the FIA, and how it became a political football, brought shame to all and to the sport as a whole.

There is a little bit of time before the French GP at Magny-Cours. Yes, the FIA have laid charges on the Michelin teams as a matter of course, but something more fundamental is required. It does not mean wholesale change or more upheaval; but it is time for everyone in the sport to wake up and realise that politics, impasses, and the inability to admit to one's own mistakes are getting the sport nowhere. The FIA, and all the teams, should take a good, long, honest look at themselves before heading to Nevers.