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Jenson "Needed a fresh challenge".
It’s the most talked about item in F1 right now – and for good reason, Jenson Button – F1’s newest champion, has turned his back on the team that revived his career and jumped into a high-profile McLaren seat.
It’s a move that has polarised the F1 community. Many say Jenson is indebted to the Brawn team, and his decision to leave is downright unsportsmanlike – a sharp reversal of perception one year ago. Others believe that Formula 1 is a smash-and-grab sport, and that Jenson is well within his rights to pick and choose who he offers his driving services to.
Alonso's 2006 decision draws parallels with Jenson's
Button himself said he’s looking for a new “challenge”, which.is the most used driver phrase in Formula One besides “for sure”. In fact, Jenson’s explanation for the move is almost verbatim to Fernando Alonso’s speech three years ago, when he left Renault, the team that delivered him championship success, for the glitz-soaked powerhouse that is McLaren. The problem is this cliché is swept away with a broom of scepticism, despite the inherent truth it contains. Jenson knows that McLaren already have a British world champion in Lewis Hamilton, so he’s certainly not shying away from a challenge – a mighty challenge.
For both Jenson and Fernando, money was mooted as a key motivator – but both drivers strongly denied that. And we should probably believe them. Loyalty is just not part of the F1 dictionary, at least not for the successful. Drivers are, and must be, selfish. Fernando said it was nothing personal when he left Renault in 2006, he was just doing what he needed for his career. The fact he was welcomed back in 2008 only to leave again shows that teams don’t hold these sorts of grudges. Drivers are employees – strategic partners – rarely friends. It is not in anybody’s best interests to stick around for a ‘sense of duty’. At the end of the day, no matter how good a relationship a driver has with a team – their contract will always remind them: it’s just business. Alonso may not have won the championship with McLaren in 2007, but he came a hell of a lot closer than he would have at comfortable, friendly Renault.
Does this mean that Jenson thinks that the success of Brawn, now Mercedes, was fleeting? Perhaps. Button and Brawn won the title in the first half of the year – the last part of 2009 was a scramble to keep up with the new pace-setters – McLaren being one of them. Nothing is certain in F1, and Jenson of all people knows that, but trusting instinct and seizing opportunity is what successful drivers, and people in general, do.
Perhaps most importantly, we as fans should celebrate Jenson’s tenacity. The move has not only added another layer of intrigue into the already insanely silly season. The McLaren battle in 2010 will be an absolute thriller, make no mistake. The two most recent champions squared off in a struggle for not only the title itself – but the admiration of a nation flush with motor racing hysteria. It’s a mouth-watering prospect.
Formula One is experiencing a sea-change, new privateers are bobbing up and manufacturers are leaving. In the brutal global economic climate, Honda, BMW and Toyota have cut their losses and cast their multi-million dollar formula one projects adrift, and Renault’s finger is teetering over the abort button.
The age of the manufacturer is in decline. In fact, it can almost be considered over, with only Mercedes and Ferrari left standing (assuming Renault do pull the plug). The two marques are hardly accessible to the average person – nor is their presence necessarily salient as manufacturers. Mercedes will supply engines to a
predicted four teams next year, while Ferrari is a racing team first, and car manufacturer second. (Enzo only pursued a road car division to ensure income for his beloved racing team.) The connection, if only by namesake, between the cars you see racing, and the car you drive is eroding.
This is consequential for F1, and in particular, the Japanese exodus implies grave concern
for the sport. The world’s second-largest economy is an important market for F1, with enthusiastic fans, a hotbed of engineering talent and big corporate sponsors. However, the traditional Japanese business model has twice proven unsuccessful. After years of effort in vain and hundreds of millions of dollars of investment, Honda and Toyota are no longer involved in F1. Add Bridgestone to the list of Japanese companies leaving F1, and you see major pillars of the sport are removed, and the potential imbalance is concerning
But it is not as bad as all that. It is simply a natural cycle of the sport. Privateer teams began disappearing off the grid throughout early in the new millennium – and the crisis calls were no different than today. Benetton became Renault, Ford bought Stewart and named it Jaguar, Honda consumed BAR, BMW took over Sauber and Toyota built their operation from scratch. All this occurred in the last decade, during a period of great economic growth. But nobody would describe the years previous as a crisis era, even though it was an era where privateers or corporate ventures controlled the teams and manufacturers would only supply engines (with the constant exception of Ferrari).
It appears we are simply seeing a similar era return – an era that both precedes and follows times when manufacturers “come and go,” as former FIA president Max Mosely put it. The issue of outrageous and unsustainable spending that topped F1’s agenda for years was what characterises manufacturer involvement in the sport. Flush with cash from booming economic times – a wave of carmakers will surge into F1, empty their wallets – occasionally succeed – and then when budgets feel the inevitable squeeze, they recede back out into the corporate ocean. It’s a cycle that has happened many times during F1’s history. From the formative years, to the turbo era to the millennium boom to now. The privateers, however, less directly affected by the global economy, remain constant. They exist to race. Disappointing as it is, we should not consider the manufacturer exodus as a crisis. Instead, we should be preparing ourselves for another golden era of racing ruled by racing teams. Until the next wave rolls in.
Now the confetti that hailed Jenson Button’s historic world championship victory has settled on the ground, a rather bitter fog lingers in the air, thinly concealing that trouble-making matter. Money.
After sewing up an unlikely title in Brazil, new champion Jenson and new team Brawn are reportedly squared off in a dispute over pay.
The 29-year-old had been racing on a bite-sized salary, flying economy to the circuits and even washing his own overalls.
It’s fair to note that the world champion bargaining chip is the most valuable, but the strained relationship between Button and Brawn over money is a sad reminder that F1 sporting spirit is still buried under contracts, accountants and the almighty dollar.
Cast the clock back only 10 months ago, and Jenson Button said he stood, shocked, in an airport terminal when he heard the news that his team, Honda, had pulled the plug on their F1 operation.
In 2008, the Briton was so far behind the pack that the only times he met his glory-hoovering compatriot Lewis Hamilton on track was when Lewis' silver Mercedes flashed by to add another lap to Jenson’s race time.
In interviews, Button desperately tried to shake off the ‘playboy’ image that characterised the bulk of his career. He said he would trade in the piles of cash, the Monaco apartment and the 100-foot yacht just to win his first race. Who knows what he was prepared to sacrifice for his first title. Now we know it’s not a lot.
To be fair, Jenson did take a mammoth paycut, however it seemed to be more out of desperation to remain an F1 driver. Honda’s withdrawal was so abrupt that both its contracted drivers, Button and Rubens Barrichello, were unable to find a seat elsewhere. The F1 musical chairs game had stopped, all the seats were taken – and Jenson and Rubens’ chair were taken right from underneath them.
When Ross Brawn eventually stepped in, savior-like, and rescued the team, not a sane soul expected them to lift both world championships several months later. Everybody in the downsized Brackley squad, from machinists to designers to drivers, banded together under Brawn in the sort of romantic, anything-it-takes, mentality that comes with adversity.
It was a beautiful and incredibly timely example of what Formula One tragics call ‘racing spirit’. The sponsor-less white Brawn-Mercedes cars flashing around Valencia in pre-season testing reminded us that underneath F1’s the glitzy, corporate exterior was pure, unadulterated motor-racing soul. When the miracle-baby Brawns dropped jaws by caning the field by more than a second, the
Then, season 2009 played out in dramatic fashion, with Button leading all the way home – despite the mid-year wobbles. Commentators never allowed us to forget the circumstances and gravity of the situation – that a team destined for the dustbin was beating the world on a shoestring. Brawn were no longer a team, but a family – reminiscent of Lotus, Williams and even Ferrari in the early days.
Beyond appealing to the fans – Brawn also appealed to the policymakers, who’s long-running crusade against inflated costs was desperately in need of validation. Brawn was that validation. Here was a team functioning brilliantly and winning on a budget that would account for a sub-department of say, McLaren, Ferrari or Toyota. Max Mosley’s KERS failed miserably as a cost-cutting exercise, but he was at least able to point to Brawn to say ‘this is how it should be done.’ And in a lot of ways, he was right to.
So now we see Button complaining about paying for his travel and laundry not even a week after clutching the trophy that was, until the miracle of Brawn, forever out of reach.
It’s two steps back from the major step forward Button and Brawn had taken towards a universally desired sporting ideal, where the top step of the podium is what matters most, not the top floor of a Monte Carlo apartment block.
September 21st 2009 04:39
Benz's Autowagon - the original sweet ride
Very few machines have lasted for more than a century without being rendered obsolete by something smaller, lighter, cheaper and better capable of doing the job. It is the mandate of science to rapidly revolutionise technology so every generation can start most conversations with their offspring’s offspring by spouting: “back in my day…” While often we roll eyes at grandad’s reminiscing of how he would spend his evenings reading parchment novels under the glow of kerosene lamps – we still accept that he used a car to get himself about. Some of us may actually drive that same car today.
The car – unlike the cassette tape - is an invention that has not fundamentally changed since it was first put together by Karl Benz in 1885. Today, there is still an engine that blows up crushed ancient marine creatures to push metal cylinders up and down – and through a complicated system of cogs and rods, energy finds its way to large wheels which rotate, and thanks to grippy rubber connecting to the ground, the wheels push the whole thing forward – including the person who directs the machine by way of a steering wheel. We’ve added air conditioning (a machine that itself replaced giant blocks of ice), leather seats, push-rod suspension and heated-backside massagers – but the automobile itself has not yet been replaced. It is a machine that, despite its well publicised polluting foibles – is essentially perfect. No-one has figured out a better way around. Even when the boffins crack hydrogen technology – or whatever efficient energy source they can get to power cars – the car itself will remain – the motor is just one part of thousands
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Jurassic Park
I loved dinosaurs. I mean, I loved them. As an eight-year-old, ask me anything about the Deinonychus, and I’d rattle off a complete palaeontologic analysis of the raptor’s distinguishable foot-talon, counter-balancing tail and pack-hunting mentality. So, you can imagine that when Steven Spielberg’s groundbreaking dino-epic Jurassic Park hit cinemas; I was beside myself in excitement. After weeks of tearful pleading, my parents agreed to take me to see it – despite the M-rating. I was possibly the most excited kid ever to go to the movies that day. I donned my favourite T-Rex t-shirt, brought my favourite dinosaur toys along in the car, and bounced in my seat in joyous anticipation as the curtains parted.
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The practice of advertising and marketing is considered something of a black art. Coaxing consumers to consume, and continue to consume is a morally questionable act. But, by the same token, the fact remains that as consumers, we want to know about products, services and deals that will, genuinely, give us satisfaction. The fine line between informing the public and inducing the public is what cloaks marketing in a veil of ethical taboo.
Sexist? yes. Effective? who knows?
Advertising is as, if not more, ubiquitous in the Western world today as the finger-pointing political propaganda was in the previous century. Every square inch of the earth has been examined at some point by a marketing executive as a potential space for advertising. Even Times Square in New York City is a tourist attraction for is neon-saturated gallery of ads. But, according to many, the fun and colour of ads masks the apparent intent to warp your thinking, and mould you into a money-dispensing mass consumer
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White collar careers and office life are not a glorified way of living. It’s boring, it’s monotonous and it’s draining. To make matters worse, there is always someone above you. There is always someone above you, who somehow thrives in the office dredge – and takes every opportunity to demean you, torment you, or simply annoy the bejesus out of you. They are of course – bosses…
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It has been said, by intelligent people with long names and round wire-rimmed glasses, that sport is simulated violence performed within a set of rules. It’s the only social domain in which someone can send someone else to an intensive care unit, without themselves being sent to prison. While not intending to denounce sport, or its physicality – I do find it interesting that in between the emotional extremes of joy and sorrow that sport regularly brings up, there is an ugly side of sport. When the boundaries of simulated violence are breached – and anger flows forth, sport’s ugly side rears its head in memorable fashion. It is known as the dummy-spit, the blow-up, the blue or a list of many other terms, and sport’s glittering history is bullet-holed with such occasions. Which is why we love it so much.
Perhaps it’s best to start with the king of all sporting dummy-spitters, American tennis legend, John McEnroe. In a sport where all white attire is required and the merest whimper of enthusiasm from the crowd is hushed down, McEnroe was more famous for his tempestuous tantrums than his sublime talent. At the height of his powers in the mid-eighties, McEnroe’s on-court encounters became characterised by his snaps into rage over what he considered a bad call…which was essentially every call against him. Following every line-ball he deemed dubious, ‘Mac’ would stomp down to the net and spit profanity-laden verbal assaults at umpires, linesmen, ball boys – even crowd members. He would smash several racquets a game, refuse to shake hands and then, after walking off the court, victorious, to a chorus of boos, McEnroe would clap derisively and dole out the bird to everyone who could see. Today, as a celebrity, he’s been described as approachable, affable and very media friendly, but even now, as he casually competes in amateur masters tournaments and charity matches, McEnroe still reverts to the cursing, racquet-mangling, argumentative wild-child that earned him his infamous reputation
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For too damn long pimps have been utterly parched. There’s simply been nothing fit in the energy drink market to quench the thirst of all those pimps out there. But now, after a hard day’s pimpin, all the OG’s out there can finally knock back an energy drink worthy of their discerning pimpy taste.
You’ve probably already heard, but in case you’ve been living under a rock, Pimpjuice has launched in Australia, after absolutely soaking the American market with its patented glow in the dark-ness and smooth flava. Thankfully, the black gansta-rap market which is so poorly under-represented down under will finally have a liquid medium to reach all those kids who are living rough in the vast Australian ghettoes that some call the suburbs. Now, after icing some beef-talking haters, those original gangsters from the ‘burbs can cool off with some smooth, glowing Pimpjuice – giving them the energy to then go and pimp some ho’s. For real
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Comments (3)
Comment by ChrisB
on Advertising vs The Brain
Formula 1
The Social Centre
In regards to children - that's where the ethical concerns are highest. Educating children about advertising and preventing adverstisers from targetting children for 'pester-power' is something I think is needed.