Brake Point

♫ "Already Home" (feat. Kid Cudi) - Jay-Z on the music system

Season review time. If you are indeed an F1 fan, I don't expect you to be reading this. Go read the season reviews written by James Allen or Peter Windsor or just listen to Sir Jackie Stewart in his tweed coat banging on about what he feels about the way things panned out.

I just felt weird when the lighting systems at the Abu Dhabi circuit died out and left behind a stark darkness as opposed to the brilliantly illuminated giant jellyfish skin they had swathed the entire main grandstand complex with. Jenson Button and Brawn were already champions and they didn’t really have to…

No. I didn’t feel weird. I felt disgusted at that moment because my brain stopped being absorbed in the race and I gradually felt my olfactory senses pick up the most revolting stench that I’d been oblivious to thus far - I'd been too busy drinking in the visuals.

What else do you expect from a room that has no air-conditioning, no proper ventilation, unwashed and un-disinfected ancient carpets, and is generally occupied by those hordes from that state between Tamil Nadu and the pointless Orissa? Oh, and the monkeys occasionally pop in for a dump. And then leave.

I mean, this season shook it all up for the sport. Or the entertainment show(as the honourable Government of India likes to see it). Ferrari and McLaren, the ‘big boys’ could only whimper with their tails ‘twixt their legs while Brawn and later Red Bull brawn-ed and bull-ed their way to an eventual contest between each other for the titles. I’m sure all the Ferrari and McLaren haters(there seem to be some) were overjoyed that this year had been a nice little kick up their backsides. Truth be told, yes, it was really good to see someone else do the winning for a while.

But the novelty factor soon wore off, because Brawn had been blitzing everyone else for the first one-third of the season. Yes, the double diffuser thing helped, but Williams and Toyota had it too – that didn’t make them that awesome. So, we should give credit where it’s due. Ross Brawn, Nick Fry to a certain extent and the exiting Honda management to a small yet no less significant extent.

And of course, the new Brit hero, Jenson Button. Finally. After that promising start to his career with Benetton and Williams, nobody had bet against him not winning a championship before he turned 29. And yet, that’s what happened with him languishing at the luckless Honda pitwall for over 6 years. If people say he doesn’t deserve the championship, well, they should just shut up. There have been a few such champions in the past, and there will be such champions in the future – a champion is a champion is a champion. And Button deserves it, as much as anyone of his other challengers did. After all these years of frustration and anger, it almost seems poetically apt that Button won the title he so badly wanted in this dramatic fashion. Senna had once appropriately remarked, “Every year, there is a winner of the World Championship, but not necessarily a champion.” However, the record books think otherwise and so we should just shut our mouths and move on.

I was totally crushed for Sebastian Vettel. I’ve been looking out for him ever since he set those blinding times during the free practice for the 2006 Italian GP, and 2009 was the year he should have won that title. I won’t go on and on about how some errors, from himself and from Red Bull, and plain old bad luck conspired to deny him what would have been a stupendous achievement. And he just goes hard at it all the time – he can’t just think of getting the car home and bagging a few points. That’s not his style. And I love his attitude. He wasn’t like, “I’ll be stronger because I have learned to lose” or “Losing is part of the game” or “I have grown as an individual” or any of that regular drivel all these smooth-talkers say when they lose. Instead, he said:

“I wish I didn’t have to say it, but I hate losing. I think I knew it all along, but now I am definitely sure. But somehow that doesn’t only go for racing - I’m afraid I hate losing in anything I am doing - whether it is playing a silly game, or football, I obviously simply hate to lose.”

That’s definitely the guy I see as one whose side I am on. Ah, you’re wondering why? Who’s that dude I worship?

And who is that person we are not talking about? Yes, mister, you. You should stop saying “I have never accepted that I wasn’t as good as Michael.” About time.

Oh, and watch out for yet another young German in the immediate future, Nico Hulkenberg. He will probably turn out to be as good as Vettel. Yes.

Anyway, I’m mega-pissed at Ferrari for letting Kimi Vodkanen go, by terminating his contract that would have expired in 2010, all because President Montezemolo wanted Fernando Teflonso in the team. And that’s the reason I am going to be a Mercedes supporter in case, IN CASE Schumi decides to haul his ass into their racecar for the next season. Ferrari and Schumacher fans shouldn’t see him as a traitor who’s ‘forsaken his loyalty to the team with which he’s spent the golden years of his illustrious career’. If Ferrari can hire Alonso, then without an iota of doubt, Michael occupies a higher moral ground if he decides to get himself released from the ‘Consultant’ position at Maranello and drive for the German company who funded his rise through the junior classes and the DTM. So the Ferraristi in Michael’s camp, shut your miserable whining traps and scream for the Silver Arrows henceforth. My reverence for Ferrari the Manufacturer remains undiminished, but Ferrari the Formula 1 Team? They’d have to do something special to win me back. Hah. Like they need to, or like they ever will. They’ll just ask me to go f**k myself.

So, as a pre-emptive measure, I shall hit ‘Publish’, re-enable μ Torrent, rise from this chair I’m sitting on…

…and do just that.

See you later, infected crimson pustules.

Medley I

Aaiye dukaan kholta hoon:

1. Re-vive: Coming along pretty nicely. I’ve now sort of realized what I had been missing for quite some time. The ubiquitous adda session that happens every day from sunset till 11 o’ clock has become very, very essential to my daily existence. Pausing to think, I also realize that earlier, we never ever had to call each other to a specific place just so we can have this – we had the tuitions which served the purpose. Commendably. And Mukherjee hasn’t changed. Not. One. Bit. And that keeps things jazzed up all the time, although we sometimes go a little overboard! The Polo Ground is perfect for this kind of timepass. Made my second trip to school with Babai, Souvik and Roy. And we ended up singing a plaintive - and pathetic - rendition of ‘Winds of Change’(Or...did we?). School school naa raha(sob). Siddhant ‘Choos-Lee’ Bhartia came down all the way from Calcutta to meet up with us. We appreciate it, Sidd – it’s a pity our plans to get smashed together in Bangalore never really materialized, and now you're no longer in Bangalore. Now it’s Calcutta for the next 3 years, pucca. Right then. We’ll get smashed in Calcutta one of these days :D
And I still can't decide whether I want to go for that reunion party in school. Most of us are undecided - we're unsure of the crowd... what if the grand old men of SPS Alumni take centrestage and we newbies are summarily ignored? Wisely, the organisers are dangling the bait of having ex-students from AG Church and Loreto on board for the '3 day extravaganza' :D We shall see!

2. Brit GP, Silverstone: So the Brawns finally came unstuck. Low temperatures weren’t letting their tyres warm up properly, and Button was undone (*smirks*) and Barrichello wasn’t exactly giving a great account of himself (Massa and Rosberg almost jumped him). But I’m dribbling on about a mere bagatelle. Why don’t we sidestep this issue and yell ‘SEBASTIAN!!’ - What a performance. What a thundering performance. Granted that the Red Bull car was flattered a little by the nature of the circuit and the air and track temperatures, but you simply can’t gloss over the fact that Vettel, on a heavier fuel load, first put in a stonker of a qualifying lap to take pole, and then pulled away from the two old goats on the grid at over a second a lap consistently during the first stint of the race. That was the day he did a Schumacher. Fab job!

3. Wimbledon: It’s no secret which camp I belong to. And yes, Wimbledon without its defending champion feels a bit like showing up for a college prom night and having to dance with Bablu the channawallah. OK, that was monumentally asinine of me, but you shall, at this juncture, have mercy on this mentally challenged individual and get the drift. And, much as I don’t mind Roger Effing Federer and really, really respect him, the Savile-Row bedecked tennis-racket swinging Rolex commercial really gets on my nerves. The other one with footage from his matches is OK – I mean, Rolex has being doing that sort of ads for years, but this one is, well, phhbbbt.

4. Shantaram(the book): I won't say anything except describing it in one word : 'staggering'.

More later. Run along.

Happy birthday, sie biest !

The Porsche 917 at the Daytona Historic Event

Over the years, there have been many manically fast and technically magnificent race cars which have now become part of automotive lore. Enthusiasts discussing them do so in hushed, reverential tones and manufacturers lovingly preserve surviving examples in their heritage museums, or even the hallowed precincts of the factories in which they were conceived and built.

Presently, I’ll go in a completely different direction. As a 4-year old, I remember my favourite toy being a dark blue pull-back toy car – it had stickers screaming '69' on its flanks and several others saying ‘Gulf’, ‘Koni’ and ‘Tag Heuer’ – I didn’t know what any of that meant. It was my most prized possession and I had a great time playing with it all over the house.

It was a model of the Porsche 917, THE Porsche 917, the fabled Porsche 917, the car that annihilated all its opposition and occasionally its own self in a fiery ball of aluminum, titanium and magnesium. Apart from blitzing the Le Mans, the Can Am, the Targa Florio, and several other racing classes, it was also immortalized on celluloid in the Steve McQueen starrer, Le Mans(1971). Endorsement from the King of Cool, no less! 2009 marks the 40th anniversary of the 917, and Porsche is commemorating this occasion at the Goodwood Festival of Speed in July. The world is celebrating and so am I!

It was born under interesting circumstances, to say the least. The FIA, in a way, had a hand in this. In those days, Le Mans witnessed insane speeds and cars like the Ford GT 40 MkIV and the Ferrari Ps (the 250Ps, the 330Ps, the 412 Ps, etc) with their massive engines and immense power outputs were the undisputed kings. The FIA then tweaked the rules a little to allow cars with smaller engine capacities to be a part of the World Sports Car Championship and to entice more manufacturers to line up on the starting grid. There was a catch, however – the manufacturer couldn’t just set up a race team, devote the finances and manpower and build a precious few cars to compete in the championships. The cars had to be homologated as well. That is, they had to be built and sold as road-legal machines to people like you and me. A manufacturer could take its cars to race as long as it had made at least 25 units for road use.

Ferdinand Piech(right) and Gerhard Mitter(left) at the first presentation of the 917

So, Porsche got started on its project. A super-lightweight 42 kg aluminium spaceframe, several titanium and magnesium alloy components, a glass fibre body-shell and a 4.5 litre flat-12 naturally aspirated engine putting out a substantial 520 horsepower were thrown into the mix, and the 917 was born. It was not without its share of pitfalls, though – the spaceframe was barely able to contain the immense power that the engine belted out. It was riddled with mechanical and aerodynamic faults and if it were not for the iron-will of Ferdinand Piech (currently President, Volkswagen AG), it would have most certainly died a silent death. It was not good at changing direction, and was extremely unstable at high speeds. Drivers did not want to drive it because it was a total bitch to drive. This called for a revision of its specifications and the aero components. The result was the 917K(Kurzheck) which got a choppy, wedge shaped tail, which was the idea of engineer John Horsmann. Later, an LH(Langheck) version was developed for the high-speed circuits, with enhanced aerodynamic efficiency and greater stability. These days, engineers with their laptops, wind tunnels and CAD simulations sort out these problems in the conception stage itself, before a single body panel has been created. Things were slightly different back then. They had to tack on new components and test it on the racetrack. Still no luck? Go back to the shed and try again!

And when Porsche got it right, boy oh boy, did it deliver! It won Porsche it’s first Le Mans Championship in 1970, and then again in 1971. Its speed, as Jezza would say, was biblical. 0-60 came up in 2.5 seconds and it maxed out at over 250 mph. Shudder. However, it is remembered not just because it made winning a habit – many cars have done that. It was the manner in which it did it – by blowing all the opposition to the weeds, by making them look limp wristed and clumsy. It lapped Le Mans at a record average speed of 222.09 kph, a feat which no other car has been able to overhaul ever since a chicane was added to the Mulsanne straight. And talking of the Mulsanne straight, that was where it did 386.24 kph, driven by Vic Elford in 1970, that too at night in wet track conditions. After conquering Le Mans, Porsche set its sights across the Atlantic and entered it in the Can Am Series in 1973, where it became the 917/10. The 917/10 was slightly different from its elder sister – Porsche uprated the power to a nuclear 1000 bhp (as if 520 was too weeny). Needless to say, its rivals could only watch it walk, no, fly away with the title . Porsche came back the next year with another 500 horses in its powerhouse, and won again, before the FIA had to change the rules again to try and control the rampaging monster that was the 917. Eek. Bow down.

So, was the 917 the greatest, most balls-out racer ever?

You bet!

******

Today, seven of the most important 917 models – among them the Le Mans-winning cars from 1970 and 1971 and the 917/30 CanAm Spyder – are currently on exhibit in the new Porsche Museum in Stuttgart-Zuffenhausen. Most of the other 917s are in the hands of proud collectors around the world, and have been seen – and heard – at the most prestigious vintage events, including Goodwood, Amelia Island, Monterey Historics, and Porsche’s three Rennsport Reunions in the U.S. in 2001, 2004 and 2007. Porsche Motorsport North America, the racing arm of Porsche in North America, services, restores, rebuilds and maintains many of these 917s for collectors at its shop in Santa Ana, California.(Source - http://993c4s.com/)

Of a school, a racing series and an implausible dream...

Indulging in rumour-mongering is one of the guilty pleasures we all enjoy – those who snub this ‘disgusting’ and ‘cheap’ habit feel smug and those who do partake in it, well, their pleasure knows no bounds.


Anyway, one more thing rumours do is that they give us a more often than not interesting topic to discuss with our friends – they are responsible for kick-starting many lazy afternoon conversations over the phone, or even a boisterous, pointless natter over beer-mugs among friends in a pub. And that’s generally because people do tend to have an opinion. The rumours, then, give us something to chew upon, something to kill time with, something to ensure our life stays as meaningful or meaningless as we want it to be.


And one such rumour is responsible for this post. And my gut says it will probably turn out into speculation on an extremely fanciful scheme. More on that later.


Babai called me sometime back and told me St. Patrick’s are probably thinking of making the +2 section co-ed. My instantaneous reaction was, “WHAT. THE. FUCK?” Seems people at the SPOBA have lost their marbles. Or is it the SPAI (I still can’t forget how they ruined our last official day in Class X. Almost.). Retards that they are, they will definitely extend this ‘cooperative effort’ to the other junior classes. And then?


Nothing. When I thought about it later, I realized that the school would be more or less OK. With the girls coming in, probably the number of 90-pluses will increase (albeit the equal increase in the number of dumb, dumber, dumberer females-which will restore the average). And probably being seen together in random places downtown in school uniforms will be less scandalous for those who want to move their love-life into a higher gear. But my question remains. WHY? Ever heard of the saying, “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”? Of course you have. How daft of me. They should definitely encourage inter-school interaction through any number of events – like those dance parties they used to have years back, but sleeping with the enemy (sorry about that) is a strict no-no. Please. See some sense. STOP THIS.


One more thing struck me. It shouldn’t come as a surprise after all, but still. If the school thinks it wants to be innovative, to be a trend setter, it should invest in my grand scheme. With all the right moves, I’m sure we will get all the visibility, the popularity and the reputation we could ever want. Or need.


They should start the SPS GP Challenge, which will be a racing series for the under-18 class. This could be held during the winter break. Standard go-karts could be made the norm, with 4-5 HP 2-stroke engines, a barebones chassis with (a trifle expensive, I agree) slicks bolted on to them. Or we can use engines from the stupid lawnmowers which have rattled our brains out while we were in 9th and 10th. The steering racks could be welded together in some local foundry. Stop smirking. I know it’s not particularly high-tech, but it’s not at all about the technology – it’s about nice, old-school racing, wheel banging and trying to ram each other off the racing line on the corner entry and exit segments. And I think I am safe in the assumption that the most balls-out racer will take home the Gulmohar leaf trophy.


Of course, all this is very well, but what about the racetrack? Don’t stick your stinky sock into my pine-fresh dream studio yet. We have one right inside the campus!


If you don’t believe me, continue reading. If you do, do the same as well.


The Start/Finish line will be in front of the large manual bell(which we fooled around with occasionally); the machines then accelerate up to the large oak tree(with the 2-tonne pitch roller under it); next comes a medium right past the canteen and the disused building behind it. Just as the curve straightens, there’s the Triangular Section (Traffic duty….thoo) with a hard 90 degree right – hard on the brakes here, and this is one of the overtaking zones, a section which will be extremely critical to the lap times. My favourite part comes next, a delightful high-speed section at full throttle, past the senior school, towards the junior school, as the cars, sorry, karts fly past the middle school building and the parking lot. This brings us to another stand-on-the-brakes hard right. And then, it’s smooth sailing all the way – it’s all about finding the best possible line and straight-lining the final section, past the school auditorium and back to the main straight and across the line.


Think about it. The guys in town will kill to be a part of the race, whose entrants will have been rigorously screened by time-trials, and selected from (hopefully) hundreds of other aspirants. The girls will also probably fancy a guy in a racing suit and a helmet a wee bit more that your average Dick. The mothers would have something better to bitch about to each other than their children’s grades and their love interests. I have no doubt that the standard of racing here will be superior to the standard of the football they play in the Salt Lake Stadium and also to the performances of the Kolkata Knight Riders (sorry Shahrukh). If all goes well, the money will flow in as well. TV coverage would probably work it’s way up from the Asansol Cable Network to no less that Star Sports (I’ll take TEN Sports as well, thank you very much). It will, god-willing, be a top draw event in Eastern India. It might catch the eye of individuals and corporates who would like to support good talent instead of being part of stupid poverty-alleviation schemes which usually benefit no one. If it were to become the pre-eminent racing championship in India, then it would become the breeding ground for the future generation GP2 and…wait for it…Formula One race drivers … the possibilities seem endless to me(though you won’t be wrong in thinking that I’m too carried away at this point)…


Who knows, the next Formula One World Champion might probably be in Asansol right now, busy with Mr. S. Chattterjee’s math homework.

Schumi : Hero or villain?

"Back in the Nineties there was a hit film called Awakenings. It starred Robert De Niro and it told the true story of a man who wakes up after being in a coma from a sleeping sickness for over 20 years. We see him rejoice as he experiences the full rush of life, but then the sickness returns. The scene where he is put back to bed, still awake, but knowing he will be returning to a sleeping prison forever is one of the most anguished you'll ever see.

And it's what sprang to mind when Schumacher gave his retirement speech at Monza. I watched this man, responsible for so many unbelievable racing moments, say his farewells, and then that kid Kubica, who'd come third, trotted out one of those inane lift- music-style speeches about his tyres being okay. I think this was the Awakenings moment for me.

Schumacher is one of that breed of super drivers that sprang up in the '80s and '90s - the Sennas, Prosts, Mansells and Piquets - who thought their own thoughts, spoke their minds and were completely in control of their own actions. When they raced they gave us the full spectrum - passion, fury, villainy, genius, mischief, balls-ups - the lot. They were showmen worth watching and now the last of that breed is about to walk away, and as a result Formula One will become more somnambulant.

It's easy to cast Schumacher as villain. Drivers such as Stirling Moss and Jackie Stewart point to all his low-down unsporting moments - Adelaide '94, Jerez '97, and Monaco this year - as evidence that he can never be ranked with the great champions of the past who had much higher moral standards.

And it's true that generations ago, the racing was more gentlemanly. Moss himself threw away his one chance of being world champion because he wouldn't protest the points tally of his rival, Mike Hawthorn.

Then you had Peter Collins surrendering his car - and his own chance of a world championship - to Fangio mid-race, so that his senior teammate could win the title. They were sportsmen in the purest sense of the word, but you can't compare Schumacher's behaviour to theirs, any more than you can compare the cars of now and then.

Those drivers raced in an era that, like the telly of the time, was black and white. Appearance was everything, emotions were clamped down, and society, rather than the individual, was the dominant force in deciding peoples' conduct.

Today, though, a two-dimensional comic- book hero has no relevance in a society that is much more complex. If a hero is to be relevant, then he or she must be like us - vulnerable, bad and weak one day, virtuous and strong the next.

That is Schumacher times 10, the classic Shakespearean tragic hero, capable of super-human feats and then transgressing to the dark side when his fatal flaw gets the better of him. You can't appreciate good without knowing evil, and likewise you can't appreciate human greatness unless that human has demons to fight.

Schumacher has plummeted to the worst depths in his sport - blatant cheating - and then gathered himself up to make amends with acts of genius. I can relate to him in the same way I can relate to all the best hero-cum-villains in modern cinema. (I would have liked to change this part...It's too much)

I met once, in 2000, while filming a BBC series about the science of speed. It took half a year to negotiate an hour of his time, but the man himself was charming and even stayed for a drink after filming wrapped.

In the interview, he confessed that he believed Häkkinen to be easily as fast as him, and then we discussed the Dick Dastardly moment when he tried to punt off Jacques Villeneuve in '97. He admitted how he knew it wasn't right, but how he'd been schooled in the era when Senna rewrote the rules on racing conduct. It was a fair reply, and afterwards we asked Bernie Ecclestone for the footage of the moment when Schumacher turned in on Villeneuve.

Bernie refused, to protect Michael, but then gave us the devil's own solution: he would let us use the footage - as long as Michael gave permission in writing. Schumacher then had the final say over whether his dirtiest laundry should be aired again, and, more to the point, if he said no, nobody would ever know he'd blocked it. A day later, though, we received his written permission. I've never forgotten that.

Looking back over his career there are many amazing races that qualify him for hero status. Spain '96, when, in pouring rain, he trounced the field in a dog of a car, is one. Then there was Hungary '98, when he had to drive 20 straight qualifying-speed laps mid-race to compensate for an extra pit stop, and again won.

But the racing moment above all that makes him a hero for me is this year's(2006) Hungarian Grand Prix. In the final laps, Schumacher was third, with Alonso out of the race completely. Michael's tyres were shot to bits and it was obvious he would lose places to de la Rosa and Heidfeld. Even so, he'd still come home fifth and bag himself four valuable points, so all he had to do was let the other drivers through.

Schumacher didn't though. He fought de la Rosa and Heidfeld like a wounded wild animal and in the process shagged his car completely and came home with no points.

Schumacher still races every corner, every moment, like his life depends on it. The same passion for winning that exposes him to moments of weakness is also the very passion that makes him gamble everything, going down with all guns blazing, like he did in Hungary. That is the man I will so dearly miss."

Andy Wilman


*I haven't changed the article at all.