19/07/2002
FEATURE BY MIKE LAWRENCE
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I think that our Great and Glorious Leader, Chris Balfe, has been soft on Ralf Schumacher, the one man in the ten-year history of the Goodwood Festival of Speed, who threw his toys out of the pram when he was asked to sign on for the insurance policy.
At the Festival, I had a good chat with Emerson Fittipaldi who was gracious. I was gathering comments for my forthcoming biography of Colin Chapman (it will be out late September or early October), and Emmo could not have been more pleasant. I seem to recall that Emmo remains the youngest World Champion, he is one of the few double Champions, also a two-times winner of the Indianapolis 500 and the 1989 CART Champion.
Would someone like to remind me of what Ralf Schumacher has achieved?
Emmo signed on, can someone explain to me why Ralf is such a superstar that he cannot write his name on an insurance chit?
Ralf says that he doesn't like coming to England. I'd say that was a bit of a problem for anyone in Formula One, let alone someone driving for Williams. Sir Frank is a patriot of an order which almost frightens me, and I wear a rose on St. George's Day and have done all my adult life. When I am asked to write my nationality on a form I always write 'English' because I want no truck with the Welsh, the Scotch or the Irish.
Why doesn't Ralf like coming to England? He has never had less than a terrific welcome from the fans here. He has been happy to come to England to drive for Jordan and Williams. Englishmen can actually distinguish between Michael Schumacher and Ralf. On the whole, we liked Ralf until he disgraced himself.
Ralf has shown himself to be a little shit, there is no other term. Consider some of the drivers and riders who have signed the insurance sheet at Goodwood: Mario Andretti, Giacomo Agostini, Barrie Sheene, Phil Read, Sammy Miller, Sir Stirling, Sir Jack, Sir Jackie, young master Surtees, Emmo, Damon, I surely don't need to go on.
Rubens Barrichello was terrific when he came to Goodwood. Johnny Herbert was everyone's favourite. Eddie Irvine made himself available to fans when he came. The great Froilan Gonzalez was welcomed with open arms. He arrived looking grumpy and walked to a V16 BRM whereupon the paddock broke into spontaneous applause.
People asked for his autograph, but they did not produce scraps of paper. One guy had a 1953 Goodwood programme which Gonzales had signed in 1953, another produced a period photograph. Gonzalez was visibly moved. He left the paddock a very happy man.
Does Ralf really put himself above Mario Andretti? Or Sir Stirling? Or Emmo? Or Stewart, Brooks. Phil Hill and Brabham. Dream on, boy, and you are only a boy. Let me tell you, Ralf, you are a boy in a man's world. Men, real men, do not throw their toys out of the pram when asked to sign a sheet. It was an insurance sheet, for Heaven's sake. And you were contracted, you signed the contract, you little shit.
I defer to no man in my admiration of Mario Andretti, but why should I become excited about Ralf Schumacher?
Hey, I signed on. That is what you do when you cover an event. We call it the 'death chit'. I have signed death chits since I was a teenager. When I was a teenager I once told Jim Clark where to go. I once put Jim Clark in his place and he did not argue because that is the sort of guy I am.
I was a paddock marshal at Rufforth in 1959 and Jim came up to me and asked where he should park his Lister-Jaguar. I looked at my sheet and said, "Slot Nine, Mr. Clark." He thanked me. I put that Jim Clark in his place and no mistake. It was slot nine.
Apparently, Ralf is too grand to sign on, even though he has signed a contract, but could someone please remind me what he has actually done? Emmo was politeness itself even when he was jet-lagged. While I was speaking to Emmo, Ralf was in a sulk, but not in England.
I have sometimes had little difficulty in controlling my enthusiasm for Michael Schumacher, but I cannot believe that Michael would be so unprofessional. Michael is professional to his fingertips. I was in the paddock after the United States Grand Prix last year, and I saw Michael close up as he congratulated Mika, who won. I liked what I saw. He was genuinely pleased for Mika, for so long his main rival, who had had a miserable 2001 season.
I see that Ralf reckons he should win the World Championship by 2004. Dream on, boy. Only champions win championsips. Juan Pablo Montoya is ahead of you in the queue. Montoya has been a champion at a senior level.
Apparently, Ralf doesn't like coming to England, where he used to have more fans than in any country except for Germany. I suspect that Ralf has fewer fans in England now. Ralf doesn't deserve fans. He behaved disgracefully to his fans and he behaved disgracefully to Sir Frank.
Ralf Schumacher is a little shit, a spoiled brat. Our editor won't say so, but I can say so. Maybe Ralf could try being faster than Juan Pablo Montoya, who did sign the chit when he ran at Goodwood last year and who was thoroughly pleasant.
I don't measure pleasantness by the willingness of stars to sign auotgraphs. I didn't shove a piece of paper in front of Emmo, I thanked him for his time and for all the pleasure he had given me. Next time our paths crossed, he smiled at me and you could have toasted muffins on that smile. I think that autograph hunters are really sad people.
At the Festival, I wanted to speak to an old friend, Murray Walker, I couldn't get near him. I've know Murray for 25 years but I couldn't get near him for the autograph hunters waving programmes.
I was at one Festival when a hunter/gatherer homed in on me, he had a race programme in one hand and a pen in the other. He was scavenging for autographs.
Hunter (offering the weapons of his calling): Would you sign this. please?
Me (with a becoming modesty my friends would not recognise): You don't want my autograph.
Hunter (sensing a major coup): I certainly do.
Me: But I'm not famous.
Hunter: You look famous.
Me (drawing on years of academic training): If I am famous, you'll know who I am.
Hunter (utterly distraught): I though you was Bernie Ecclestone?
(If only I could persuade my bank manager to let me open a line of credit on the grounds that I might be Bernie Ecclestone. In my case, two Bernies rolled into one.)
Tell you another story about the saddoes. About three years ago I arranged to meet with Chris Balfe at Silverstone. He was running a competition, there were signed copies of one of my books to be won, and I was to sign them at Silverstone. We met close to the BRDC clubhouse and he was with his wife, the gorgeous Gilly, and a couple of friends. From a distance it looked like I was being mobbed by fans.
Sure enough, a crowd gathered and I, feeling mischievous, signed any piece of paper thrust at me. I could see people walking away, reading my signature with puzzlement. Didn't he drive a thingy, or am I thinking of someone else? While I was basking in the attention of my adoring fans from the corner of my eye I noticed that, for once in his life, Stirling Moss was able to slip into the BRDC clubhouse completely unmolested.
I have no time for the saddoes. I sign copies of my books for two reasons. The first is that there is a special relationship between author and reader, and I always try to sign in a special way, even if it is only adding the date and the place. The main point, which is why I go around booksellers offering to sign everything in sight, is that once a book has been signed, it has been 'defaced' and the seller cannot return it to the publisher.
I'm not stupid.
Could it be that Ralf cannot actually read or write? He spent his early days karting so must have missed schooling. Could it be that Ralf has to make a cross or stick his thumb on a document? Has anyone ever seen Ralf read anything without moving his lips? I think we should be told. This could be the case because there is no other reason why Ralf could not sign his name on an insurance sheet, which has been signed by the likes of Mario, Sir Stirling, and my new mate, Emmo.
Perhaps Ralf needs professional help. Until he seeks that help, in my book he will remain a little shit. I don't mind saying so, but then I am a guy who once told Jim Clark where to stick his wagon.
"Slot nine, Mr. Clark."
That's the kind of guy I am.
To check out Mike's previous articles for pitpass... click here
To check out editor Chris Balfe's opinion of the Festival of Speed... click here