How Ecclestone triggered his own downfall

The end, when it came for Bernard Charles Ecclestone, was devastatingly swift.

In September last year, when Liberty Media made initial moves towards acquiring control over Formula 1's commercial rights, he spoke of a three-year deal to remain as chief executive officer of a championship he had dictatorially - if occasionally benevolently - ruled for 40 years. Now, just four months on, his role is restricted to that of figurehead.

The official designation is that of chairman emeritus, a title derived from Latin for "veteran soldier", and broadly defined as being "retired or honourably discharged from full-time work, but permitted to retain one's title on an honorary basis". Down within days of Liberty assuming control, then, but not totally out, albeit with a title that is little more than a sop...

The 86-year-old can draw solace from the fact that a triumvirate replaces him. Broadcast and media veteran Chase Carey takes over as CEO in addition to his position of chairman, legendary F1 team executive Ross Brawn - who needs no introduction, having since 2013 been punted for a strategic seat at the main table - is F1 managing director: motorsport, and ex-ESPN marketer Sean Bratches becomes F1's top salesman.

In addition, Sacha Woodward-Hill, whose talents were severely tested by Ecclestone's various travails, continues as legal eagle, with Duncan Llowarch remaining as counter. It will be fascinating to observe how these Ecclestonians knuckle down under new ownership, for they could harbour divided loyalties. Questions also hang over arch-loyalist Pasquale Lattuneddu, Bernie's 'Paddock Policeman'.

In examining the effect of BCE's retirement - effectively that is what it is for a man who vowed "they'll have to carry me away in a box" - on F1, and, by extension, how this situation came about; the long-term effect of his exit (unless, of course, he challenges the decision - as mooted here) and, finally, how he rose to a position of immense global sporting power, an analysis of his departure statement is educational:

"I'm proud of the business that I built over the last 40 years and all that I have achieved with Formula 1, and would like to thank all of the promoters, teams, sponsors and television companies that I have worked with. I'm very pleased that the business has been acquired by Liberty and that it intends to invest in the future of F1. I am sure that Chase will execute his role in a way that will benefit the sport."

Note: not a word about fans, whose passion was crucial to the success of 'his' business (and billionaire status), nor to the non-broadcast media or the true owner of F1, the FIA. Only gratitude to those he directly controlled, namely circuit/team owners, sponsors (beholden to him for passes, as many discovered to their chagrin), and television companies. That tells you all you need to know about his priorities.

While Ecclestone is credited with 'building' Formula 1 - indeed, some believe he invented the art of racing cars in circles for two hours - the fact of the matter is that the Formula 1 World Championship existed before he made his four-wheeled sporting debut in the early fifties, and eight years before he purchased the Connaught team with which he made two (failed) attempts at establishing himself as F1 driver.

Thereafter he concentrated on driver management, simultaneously amassing a small fortune - a large one was to follow later - via motorcycle and car wheeler-dealing, and property development. Stuart Lewis-Evans (pictured) and Jochen Rindt, both of whom lost their lives to F1, were his charges, the latter winning the 1970 title posthumously.

Reluctant to tie himself to another driver who may also meet his fate during F1's most lethal era, Bernie turned to team ownership, purchasing Brabham at the end of 1971 for the equivalent of $125,000 ($560k today, or £500k) - but only after some of the hard-bargaining that epitomised later deals, whether struck with eager race promoters, hardened team bosses, gullible sponsors or broadcast executives.

The values have been included to graphically illustrate just how much F1 changed over the subsequent four decades under Ecclestone. Manor, which scored a single point in 2016 before plunging into liquidation primarily due to F1's inequitable revenue structures, owes creditors an estimated £20million despite a 2016 budget of around £85m, with the bankrupt operation believed to be on the market for around $10m.

There is absolutely no doubt how much Ecclestone grew F1 after he assumed the chair of the (until-then) largely dysfunctional Formula One Constructors Association in 1978, then set about moulding the series into the global business it was to become, or the collateral damage inflicted by the recent agreements he imposed after acquiring F1's commercial rights in his right, rather than managing them in behalf of FOCA.

Whatever, 1981 and '83 championships followed for Brabham/Ecclestone via Nelson Piquet, but not before both years were mired in controversy. The first by the signing of the Concorde Agreement - negotiated with FISA, then the FIA's sports wing, by BCE and long-time barrister mate/ex-March team boss Max Mosley, with the bone of contention being F1's TV rights, which Ecclestone commandeered. Cancellation of various grands prix ensued as the parties dug their heels in.

The second season was blighted by the specification of 'rocket' fuel used by Brabham in its BMW engines.

Thereafter Ecclestone gradually lost interest in team ownership - his waning no doubt shaped by the death of yet another driver to whom he was close, Carlos Pace, who perished in an aircraft accident before reaching his full potential - as he realised that F1's grand prize was not a grand prix team, but running its commercial rights for his own account.

Having sold Brabham in 1987, in the wake of the death in testing of Elio de Angelis, he set about 'owning' F1. To do so he needed to persuade the FIA to 'sell' him the rights to the championship, then owned by FISA.

It can be no coincidence that in 1991 Mosley displaced Ecclestone's mortal Concorde enemy Jean-Marie Balestre, then president of the parent body and its sporting subsidiary, nor that Mosley assumed control over both bodies a year later - then set about merging them.

All that remained was persuading FIA member clubs that the sale of F1's 113-year rights for around 3% of their intrinsic value was in the body's best interests. Aggravated by EU intervention and threats of litigation from McLaren, Williams and Tyrrell (plus an aggrieved truck racing promoter, for initially the FIA agreed to sell Ecclestone the rights to all FIA world championships) the task took from 1995 to 2001 to complete.

Still, any delay was a small price to pay: within three years the multi-millionaire became multi-billionaire - after Mosley, as FIA president, endorsed a Concorde Agreement that paid the teams a collective 27% of revenues, with the (substantial) balance flowing into Ecclestone's family trust. Later, rather than push for an increase in revenues on behalf of (struggling) teams, Mosley suggested budget caps...

But Bernie, being Bernie, wanted even more, so he set about selling the rights - again Mosley's administration obliged, whether to private equity fund Hellman and Friedman, to media company EM-TV (owner of the Muppets, forced into bankruptcy by the deal), or to media giant Kirch (ditto, after acquiring EM-TV's assets and options - in turn forcing its administrators to cede a 75% shareholding to a trio of German banks).

Unwilling to knuckle down to the demands of bankers and very much a 'my way or no way' operator - as outlined here last week - Ecclestone desperately engineered a sale of the banks' (involuntarily acquired) holdings to CVC Capital Partners, with a Munich bench subsequently showing a keen interest in proceedings and eventually accepting $100m to drop bribery charges.

CVC, though, proved to be a voracious vulture fund whose reputation and modus operandi makes that of H&F appear almost Monopoly-like. Still, Mosley's FIA blessed the deal.

Spot the trends - Ecclestone thrice sold the rights to a global sporting spectacle he arguably would not have owned had his friend of many decades not been massaged into world motoring's top office, and therefore into a position of influence whenever deals were tabled for approval. The question is, of course: did Ecclestone somehow play masseur?

By 2009 the mix of Mosley's autocratic style, global exposure of his antics in a London basement, CVC's insatiable greed and Ecclestone's utter determination to squeeze every agreement - whether Concorde, race promoter contracts or broadcast deals - to the max proved highly toxic. Something had to give.

CVC decided to take F1's rights public, having borrowed up to $4bn against future earnings to keep fund holders sweet. The problem was, though, that all teams had united under the Formula One Teams Association banner, ironically, a latter day FOCA, and insisted on 50% of F1's revenues, plus 2010-12 Concorde Agreement clauses that severely reduced Mosley's power.

Mosley stepped aside in 2009 in favour of Jean Todt, then the global meltdown caused further consternation by forcing CVC to delay its listing plans, but not before it snared Ferrari, Red Bull, McLaren and (later) Mercedes with offers of fancily-dubbed CCB bonuses that rewarded the quartet with untold riches even if their cars did not finish a single race through to 2020, and a seat at the fancily-named but controversial 'Strategy Group'.

Bernie must have known of the destruction these structures would impose on at least half the grid, yet he failed to protect the teams from CVC's greed-driven myopia.

Immoral, or what? Whatever, Ecclestone was increasingly reduced to executing CVC's grand plans to maximise revenues - not the sort of executive power he had grown accustomed to. Worse, Mosley, busy pushing through privacy legislation, could no longer protect Bernie from Todt, a man intent on running the FIA his way.

Ecclestone's utter refusal to create succession plans - was it a belief in immortality, or simply a deep seated desire to allow F1 to implode once he was no more, that led him to ignore this most basic of management responsibilities? - caused further bewilderment, such that team bosses began openly questioning Bernie's fitness for office. The tide was turning.

TV ratings and live audiences plummeted (30% in five years). He made dismissive comments, blaming all and sundry - including technical/sporting regulations he previously voted in favour of - bar his refusal to accept that the combined effects of unimaginative circuits in strange-sounding countries, the dysfunctional Strategy Group and inequitable revenue structures, all further compounded by cost cutting forced by CVC's greed, had backed F1 into crisis corner.

His solution? Some of the daftest comments yet made by a CEO. Social media? Why invest in something he did not understand? Attracting youthful audiences? Kids did not buy Rolexes. The list of gaffes grew a tail, and about the only wonder was that the by-now 86-year-old did not question whether YouTube was some new-fangled swimming ring.

Ecclestone's Munich court case knocked the final nail in the listings coffin, and so CVC's honchos increasingly found themselves in the same position as had the bankers during the mid-noughties: sat with a multi-billion dollar, interest-bearing asset they dearly wished to sell, but no ready buyer - until Liberty came knocking.

There would be no fourth sale negotiated by Bernie. He had no wish to knuckle down further under a US regime he assumed (knew?) would clip his freedom to operate his way. So negotiations between CVC and Liberty were effectively conducted above his head. Each time a sale was rumoured he made typically dismissive comments - clearly designed to be unhelpful to the sale process.

When Liberty eventually struck a deal - subject to completion - it was clear Bernie's days were numbered, and, once Liberty received the requisite approvals to go ahead, the first reference to Ecclestone was suffixed by 'out'. Now alone and cut loose, one wonders whether he has one last fight in him.

In the final analysis he precipitated his own downfall by refusing to accept change and his growing limitations. For F1, the saving grace is that neither Ecclestone nor CVC are in the driving seat, for arguably the biggest nightmare potentially faced by F1 was the possibility of a totally unfettered CVC running F1 alone.

Sir Jackie Stewart, arguably the most incisive of all F1 world champions, was once asked why he had retired at the peak of his powers.

"I felt that 'Why did you retire?' was preferable to the alternative, namely 'Why didn't you retire?'," answered the Scot.

Clearly Bernie was not within earshot.