What Went Wrong with Formula Two?

The idea seemed sound. In fact, to me it seemed brilliant. I've not been around the Motorsport world very long, but I'd say the biggest issue facing us is that of young drivers being able to afford to show their potential. In F1, it's a well known adage that you can only really judge your ability in relation to your teammate, as they are the only other driver in the same car. Whilst less applicable to lower formulas due to the nature of spec series, the saying still holds true. For example, if you don't have the budget to go with DAMS in GP2, and end up with Ocean Racing, you won't be judged too harshly for not being a front runner. Potential in GP2, F3 and the like is limited by budget. Talent is still required, of course, but how brightly your star can shine depends on how much cash you can get your hands on.

So imagine a series where there are effectively 24 teammates, in identical cars and all with access to data from the fastest driver, competing on F1 circuits around Europe over 16 races. Throw in a fixed budget, which is less than half of a top F3 budget in faster cars, and you have FIA Formula Two; the fairest single seater formula in history. So why did this seemingly genius category not take off?

F2's debut 2009 season

I've heard that operationally, 2009 was not a good debut year. I don't know whether that's true or not, all I can say is that when I joined in 2011, the system totally worked. The cars were equal, the engineering system was fair and reliability was very good. Accusations that the car was not as good as an F3 car as a learning tool were quashed by Jolyon Palmer, who developed his driving in F2 to then become a race winner in GP2. Similarly, Robert Wickens went from F2 front runner to Formula Renault 3.5 champion. In fact, had reigning F2 champion Dean Stoneman not been sadly diagnosed with cancer, FR3.5 would've seen he and Wickens battling it out with Jean-Eric Vergne and Daniel Ricciardo from British F3 for the championship, proving F2's legitimacy as a rung on the ladder. 

Jolyon Palmer, winning in GP2 at Monaco

But the exact rung it was trying to be was unclear. F2 was not F2. It was not one step below F1, so despite its merits, claiming to be something your not never ends well. Combined with the emergence of GP3 the following year, it perhaps seemed that the writing was on the wall from an early stage

In my opinion, though, the biggest problem was that there was nothing in it for anyone financially. Perhaps that is why I'm one of the few supporters of F2, because it started my career and earned me some money, but I think it's deeper than that. Because there was something in it for me, I attended the events and saw what was happening. But because of the centrally run nature of the championship, not many other people did. At a race weekend there would be around 50 freelance mechanics and engineers, a handful of F2 employees, and the drivers. Without teams, the championship was idyllically fair, but without teams there was no one in the paddock. It became a very insular world with no cross pollination with other series. A driver who is with the Fortec team in a lower series is most likely going to stick with Fortec as they climb the ladder, as the team look around to see what is the best championship to enter. F2 is not an option for that driver. It was left to one man to gather the entire F2 grid. 

Entry numbers fell in 2012

MSV, the organisers of F2, ran the series at such a cheap price that they weren't even making much money from it. Which not only potentially shifted their focus away from F2 as a company, but also meant any kind of promotional budget was non-existent. If there's no financial gain, no one wants to be there, and no one cares, and I fear that's the fundamental reason behind the demise of F2. Teams want drivers to enter a series they can make some money from, creating an affluent and appealing championship that drivers want to race in. Formula Two was left stranded, alone in an ever complicating feeder series scene, with an excellent but tiny team tasked with challenging the might of Renault and FOM, offering nothing but the fairest racing around. Money talks. F2 died.

And Now for Something Completely Different

I really like racing cars. You probably know that. But when I got the call asking if I was available to commentate at the London 2012 Olympic Games, I leapt at the chance. Technically, I had never commentated on any sport other than racing before – although I’d been honing my craft on the PlayStation since FIFA 98 – so to enter into the biggest sporting event in the world with zero experience was quite a daunting prospect. Indeed, the producers made it pretty clear that I was a bit of a gamble, which only increased the pressure.

The Olympic Park on the opening day

Perhaps the thing I’ve been asked most often is the difference between motorsport commentary, and that of other sports. As I’ve illustrated, I can hardly profess to being an expert in these theories, but the main difference is that with the team sports I was doing, you talk a lot less. I covered hockey, basketball, handball, volleyball, water polo and beach volleyball, all of which require you to let the action do the talking a lot more than in motorsport. For some reason, and I don’t know why, motorsport demands (or is accustomed to) a more play by play commentary style. In volleyball, though, you tend to let the whole point develop, before then commenting on the action that the audience have just seen. Well that’s what I did anyway.

My commentary booth for handball

As far as my commentary highlights were concerned, the most fun I had was Australia v Britain in men’s hockey. Australia – one of the best teams in the world – moved into a 3-0 lead with about thirty minutes left to play. Incredibly, Britain brought it back to 3-3, sending the crowd into raptures and ultimately moving them through to the semi-finals of the competition. Away from the booth, I was fortunate enough to have access to the Velodrome, where I watched Britain win Gold in the men’s team pursuit. I’ve been to a few sporting events in my time, but nothing compares to the atmosphere and emotion I experienced that day.

My view of the Velodrome medal ceremony

I find with blogs that I want to keep them short, but I could go on all day. So this is the end of it. It’s perhaps more of a memoir to myself than something that is of great interest to you, but it’s been the most incredible two weeks of my life. Things are looking good for the future, as far as the 2016 Olympics are concerned, but even if I’m lucky enough to end up in Brazil, commentating at the London Olympics is undoubtedly a once in a lifetime opportunity, one that I feel massively privileged and proud to have experienced.

About 1/4 of the Olympic Broadcasting Services production area

Unpredictability is Fun. For a While.

Unpredictability is fun. Crazy stuff happens and we all think ‘wow that was some crazy stuff, amazing’! The majority of the classic F1 races throughout history are deemed classic because of their very unpredictability, because things that we didn’t think possibly could happen, did happen. That’s fantastic, that’s wonderful, that’s motorsport. At the same time, though, we need the other side in order for unpredictability to work, and indeed the predictable can be just as enjoyable.

Rain in Zolder caused excitement

These kind of realisations are hammered home when you’re standing in the commentary box at Becketts, commentating on some club racing. I’m lucky enough to be covering the FIA GT1 World Championship this year, and so far we’ve had two cracking rounds in Nogaro and Zolder, but both have been blighted by rain. I say ‘blighted’…it’s been epic. The mix-up of conditions has given us some massively exciting racing and three different winners from four races has proven just how open the championship is this season.

This weekend (26/7 May) we are off to Navarra in Spain for round three where the weather forecast suggests it’s going to be dry, and actually, I’m pretty pleased about that. As I stood at Silverstone shouting about an 11 car GT Cup race to eight men and their dog, it dawned on me that I was watching proper motor racing. Drivers on the limit, desperately gaining on their rival ahead by tenths of a second per lap and painstakingly attempting to create an overtaking opportunity; that’s what racing is about. Not DRS and nonsense tyres.

Olivier Panis winning at Monaco in 1996

Olivier Panis winning at Monaco in ’96, or Vettel’s superb drive at Monza in ’08 are remarkable for the very reason that they were surprising, and for them to be unpredictable you need to have the predictable races too. I fear that in this ungraspable F1 season, Pastor Maldonado’s win for Williams will be lost in the myriad of bizarre results that are sure to arrive later this season, when actually it should receive a lot more recognition.

Maldonado's win may be forgotten

And so in FIA GT1 this weekend, I’m hoping for something a bit more predictable. I’m sure it won’t be boring, the closeness of performance demonstrated in the opening rounds will see to that, but I cannot wait to see some of the world’s top GT brands, drivers and teams do battle at a proper race weekend with proper racing. So let's enjoy some fascinating, tense and enthralling motorsport with a bit of a break from unpredictability. For the moment, at least...

F1: Ruthless to Some, Forgiving to Others

Just how long do you give a driver in Formula One before it's time to give him the chop? How quickly should a driver be able to step up and show some form of potential, enough to give his team manager some vague hope that this kid is worth hanging on to? Toro Rosso and the Red Bull driver development programme have come under fire for their recent disposal of Jaime Alguersuari and Sebastian Buemi - although the latter is still involved as a Red Bull test driver - but were these two given enough chance to shine?

Jenson Button leapt straight from British F3 to F1

Let us take a cross-section of the last few World Champions to examine this closer, working backwards chronologically. Sebastian Vettel impressed the moment he got in an F1 car, scoring points on his first outing whilst filling in for Robert Kubica at the 2007 US Grand Prix, before somehow guiding a Toro Rosso to victory at Monza in 2008. Jenson Button put in a ridiculous testing performance for Alain Prost's eponymous team at Magny Cours in 1999, prompting Frank Williams to sign him up months later, taking a 20 year old straight from British Formula 3 in to the deep end at Albert Park for the 2000 F1 season. Button proved his worth, scoring points on his debut. Lewis Hamilton's meteoric F1 career has been well documented, as have Alonso's miracle workings in a poor 2001 Minardi. Kimi Raikkonen was too plucked directly from the lower formulae with only a handful of races under his belt and went on to impress at Sauber. The theme goes on and on, through Schumacher, Villenueve, Senna and Mansell, they all set the F1 alight in their early days.

Alguersuari fails to impress

Buemi and Alguersuari have been in the Toro Rosso set up since 2009, and if truth be told have pulled off none of the heroics of those previously mentioned. Save for some solid performances here and there - Jaime's decent drive to 5th in Korea last season springs to mind - they have shown nothing of the spectacular or sublime required by the ruthless Red Bull development system.   Much was made of Alguersuari's move straight from British F3 to F1 and the inexperience that would surely bring, but as I mentioned earlier, that step didn't phase Button or Raikkonen. 


This ruthless driver performance criteria would be good and healthy for future talent if there wasn't some bizarre desire to hang on to perennially under-performing drivers masquerading as 'experienced professionals'. The likes of de la Rosa, Heidfeld and Barrichello (joyous as they are to have around) should all have been cast from F1 seats and shifted to the TV compound years ago, but each year teams fall for the same old sales pitch of 'bringing a wealth of experience', even if that experience is of lower top 10 finishes...

Robert Wickens has proven his talent in many series

So as it is, we've got a massive backlog of drivers with proven junior formulae credentials trying to force their way into F1. Drivers like Robert Wickens - runner up in FIA Formula Two, champion in World Series by Renault - must be wondering what on Earth they need to do to get a seat, having seemingly done all they can to convince F1 team bosses that they are worth a shot. Formula One is the pinnacle of motorsport, and as such, only the pinnacle of talent should be tolerated.