Ask Nigel: September 5

Dear Patrick,
I've written about the Jaguar situation in Fifth Column in this week's magazine, and the gist of the piece is that I feel extremely sorry for Bobby Rahal - not because he's a good friend of mine, but because I feel he has been stitched up.

No, I don't believe that Jaguar essentially hired him because they thought he could deliver Adrian Newey, and when that failed - for whatever reason - they had no further use for him. Certainly, there were good reasons to hope that in time Bobby could persuade Adrian to work for Jaguar - the two men were close friends, had worked well together in Indycar racing in the '80s, and certainly if anyone could tempt Newey to leave McLaren, it was always going to be Rahal.

However, I don't believe this was crucial in the decision to hire Bobby in the first place. I think that Neil Ressler, the Ford senior executive who ran Jaguar in 2000, was looking for a new CEO for the team, and he had admired what Rahal had done, both as a CART team owner, and also as a businessman altogether. Neil persuaded Ford CEO Jac Nasser that appointing Bobby would be a good idea, and Nasser trusted Ressler's judgement.

The initial contract between Ford and Rahal was for three years, and it was very clear that Bobby was going to need at least that amount of time to turn the team around. When he arrived there, on December 1 2000, he found morale at rock bottom.

As well as that, of course, everything for the 2001 season was already essentially set, in the sense that the car - very conservative in concept - had already been signed off, and the drivers were signed. So far as this season was concerned, therefore, Jaguar was unlikely to achieve very much, and everyone knew that.

Down the road, though, there was reason to hope. Rahal hired Steve Nichols, an underrated man, as technical director, and also brought in Mark Handford, who had made a good name for himself in CART, to take charge of aerodynamics. He also began talks with his old friend Newey.

The original plan had been for Ressler to continue as chairman of Jaguar Racing, and also of Cosworth and Pi Research, but by the beginning of this year, a major family problem - his daughter was seriously ill, and, sadly, later died - caused him to relinquish his commitments, and retire from Ford altogether.

That being so, Wolfgang Reitzle, the president of the Ford-owned Premier Automotive Group (which includes Jaguar), came into the picture. If this Ford-owned team were racing under the name of 'Jaguar', he wished to be closely involved, and he appointed Niki Lauda - who had recently lost control of his airline, and was looking for something to do - to what had previously been Ressler's job.

This meant that, at a stroke, Rahal was effectively reporting to Lauda, and it is a certainty that if he had known that was going to be the situation, he would never have accepted the job in the first place. Niki has never been known for his democratic style, let's put it that way.

Initially, he was at pains to stress that it was 'Bobby's team', that he would not be involved in the day-to-day running of it, that his job was to coordinate the efforts of Ford, Cosworth and Pi to the greater good of Jaguar Racing. Rahal, though, would run the team.

Many of us had our doubts that this would work, if for no other reason than the fact that history shows you need a single individual - be it Frank Williams, Ron Dennis or whomever - at the top of an F1 team. Try and split it, and eventually you will have trouble.

From the outset, it was clear that Lauda, whatever he may have said to the contrary, was indeed going to play a central role in the running of Jaguar Racing, but Rahal kept his thoughts to himself, and got on with the task of persuading Newey to come aboard. By May, everything had been agreed, and Adrian had signed a letter of agreement - even gone out for dinner with Bobby to celebrate!

In the contract between Ford - not Jaguar - and Newey, there was reportedly a clause allowing Newey to leave immediately, should Rahal part from the team, for any reason. That made clear that his relationship with Bobby was paramount in his decision to join Jaguar - and also, of course, hugely strengthened Bobby's position in the team.

At Monaco, though, days before the contract could be completely firmed up, news of Newey's decision leaked, and that allowed Ron Dennis time and opportunity to change Adrian's mind. The whole thing was a mess, and Rahal was stunned that his old friend should have gone back on his word, but the bottom line was that months of hard work - to land the best technical director in motor racing - had failed.

Through the summer, it was clear that Lauda - and Eddie Irvine - were distancing themselves from Rahal. Privately, they missed no opportunity to snipe at Bobby - who was, after all, very much a newcomer to F1, and an outsider, too, being American in a very European environment, and with a background in CART. Rahal learned a huge amount in a very short time, and was very popular with members of the Jaguar team, including those back at the factory, but rumours grew with every passing weekend that Lauda was working to have him removed from the team.

Niki, as I said, has always been an autocratic individual, and when it was announced that - very much without Rahal's approval - he had concluded a deal with Tom Walkinshaw for Arrows to have Ford engines (not 'customer' motors, but of equal spec to those available to Jaguar!), Bobby was furious.

The red herring which served to get him out of Jaguar was his attempt to off-load Irvine to Jordan for the 2002 season, and to take Heinz-Harald Frentzen instead. It's a fact that team principals talk in terms of moving this driver here, that driver there, all the time, but Lauda seized on it, and murmured to a number of people in the Hungaroring paddock that he was going to get rid of Rahal.

Thus, the meeting with Reitzle, and the palpably absurd press release, which announced that Rahal had concluded he couldn't continue to run Jaguar Racing, that his other business commitments required too much of his time. The parting, it was stressed, was 'amicable'.

Yeah right. And Robert Mugabe is a nice man.




Dear Jeff,
I, too, have always had a soft spot for Clay, one of the most delightful people I have known in 30 years of covering F1. It pleased me tremendously when he scored the first Williams victory, at Silverstone in 1979.

Back then, we didn't have post-race press conferences, but sometimes there would be an informal ceremony, and they had one at Silverstone, in a marquee near the paddock. The atmosphere was unusually emotional, for Frank Williams had become a winner at last, and everyone wanted to share his joy.

After a few minutes, his driver came in, dabbing at his face with a towel, for the afternoon was hot. On the podium, in deference to the team's Saudi-Arabian sponsors, he had toasted his victory with orange juice; now he looked ready for a swig of the scotch which his boss - an avowed teetotaler - was politely sipping.

He shook Williams's hand. "Bravo, Frank," he quietly said.

That was the essential modesty of the man. Regazzoni had won a Grand Prix for the first time in three years, but uppermost in his mind was that this was Williams's day.

It was very much an Indian Summer for Clay, that season of 1979. After parting from Ferrari, he had passed a couple of desultory years with Ensign and Shadow, and his F1 career, in any meaningful sense, looked to be over. Then Williams called him.

"We'd run Alan Jones alone in 1978," said Frank, "and needed a second driver. I remembered that when Clay had last had a world-class car, back in '76, he'd driven everyone into the ground at Long Beach, scored a lot of other points, and rarely crashed. Superb on his day, much more than just a number two, and a happy, uncomplicated, man.

"It worked out very well. We did each other a favour. Clay was very different from most racing drivers, in that he was - and is - an absolute gentleman, who loved motor racing for its own sake. A totally adorable character."

Although his season with Frank was excellent - as well as winning the British Grand Prix, he lost to Jody Scheckter at Monaco by less than half a second, made the podium five times, and finished fifth in the World Championship - Clay knew by Monza he would not be staying for 1980.

"It's happening to me again," he shrugged sadly. "I've got a good car in a team I really like - and they're going to replace me with Reutemann, like Ferrari did..."

From the start, Jones detested his new team mate, and his feelings were reciprocated. "I never understood why Frank swapped Clay for Reutemann," he said. "We had a great season together in '79. When you've got a good picture on the TV, why fiddle with it?"

Regazzoni was never overly concerned with status. "I consider myself a good professional," he said to me once. "If I have a big fault, it's that I am not enough ambitious. I drive for me, sure, but also for the team and the public."

The fans adored him, particularly at Monza, where he - not Ickx, not Lauda - was always the favoured Ferrari son. He enraptured them on September 6 1970, a highly charged and emotional day. In qualifying the previous afternoon, Jochen Rindt had crashed to his death, and thoughts of the accident kept bobbing to the surface of everyone's mind.

It was only the fifth Grand Prix of Regazzoni's career, and he won it after 68 laps of pure slipstreaming battle, for there were no chicanes at Monza in those days. By half-distance his was the only Ferrari left, and a few laps from the end he made a break, pulling out 50 yards on Jackie Stewart and the rest.

Regazzoni arrived in F1 with a ragged reputation. In the lower formulae he had been blindingly quick, but with the pace went a tendency to live for the moment. However, he took to an F1 Ferrari as if born to it. Brought into the team at mid-season, he drove in only seven races in 1970, yet finished third in the World Championship, and in many ways that first season stands as his best.

Much of the time, you never quite knew what you were going to get from Clay. Sometimes his driving was sloppy, sometimes - as at the Nurburgring in 1974, or Long Beach a couple of years later - sublime.

At the end of the '76 season, though, he was replaced - by Reutemann. Clay always spoke his mind: "Ferrari didn't speak clean with me. Before Monza he told me there would be no problem for 1977. That weekend I had offers from Brabham and McLaren, but said I was staying with Ferrari."

Perhaps, even 25 years ago, Regazzoni was too ingenuous a man for an increasingly commercial F1. Eventually he learned that Reutemann had signed with Ferrari many weeks previously.

Thus Clay joined Ensign, moving at a step from one end of F1's financial spectrum to the other. If it was not a particularly successful year, it was a happy one, the glamorous ex-Ferrari star blending in easily with Morris Nunn's little outfit. In 1978 he joined Shadow, and then came the call from Williams.

Although the Ferrari days were past, in Italy the fans retained their deep affection for Clay, and it was put squarely to the test at Monza in 1979. He drove the Williams brilliantly, posing a lone threat to the Ferraris of Scheckter and Villeneuve in the late laps. In the stands, their loyalties divided, they went a little quiet. Ultimately, they got the perfect result: Ferrari-Ferrari-Regazzoni.

Clay's previous race, in Holland, had been rather shorter; within seconds of the start, he had tangled with Rene Arnoux's Renault, and lost his left front wheel. It was a mark of the affection in which he was held that, at Monza, Renault presented him with a very special present: a wheelchair with huge F1 rear wheels, Williams front wings - and the left front wheel missing. A few months later we were to recall that ceremony with a poignant sadness.

Although the Williams contract was not to be renewed, Regazzoni was in good spirits at Monza. A few days before, he had celebrated his 40th birthday with an elaborate party in Cannes, and that weekend I suggested that maybe now was the right time to stop. "You've had a great season," I said, "but you're never going to get a car like the Williams again..."

Clay heard me out, then grinned. "You must understand that, for me, it's not a matter of winning all the time. I am happy to be part of F1 - I love to drive racing cars more than anything." He spoke with such dignity that I felt embarrassed at having raised the subject. "I love it the way Graham Hill did," he went on. "They said he should have retired before he did - but why, if he was enjoying it still?"

Well, because there is a line of thought that if you go to the Gates often enough, eventually they open. But Regazzoni shared Mario Andretti's opinion that every race was a spin of the roulette wheel, a new beginning, and your chances were the same each time the ball was flicked into play. A comfortable philosophy for a racing driver to hold.

The Williams saga over, Clay returned to Ensign, and was running fourth in the Long Beach Grand Prix at the time of the final accident. At the end of Shoreline Drive, instead of slowing from 180mph for the hairpin, Regazzoni's car hurtled up the escape road. A barrier had been erected, closing it off, and this the Ensign struck, at colossal speed.

"When I pressed the brake there was nothing. I pumped it, still nothing, changed down from fifth to third, cut the engine. After I hit the barrier, for about 10 minutes I was unconscious. Then I remember terrible pain in my back..."

Clay soon knew he had to face the unimaginable. His spinal cord had been severely damaged, and he was paralysed. Over the next couple of years he underwent operations without number, some in Basle, some - of a more radical kind - in Washington. As his hopes of walking again were raised, then dashed, so he veered between euphoria and despair.

Finally, in 1985, he began coming to Grands Prix again, as a TV commentator. During practice at Monaco, I saw him in Casino Square, and several minutes went by before it dawned on me: he was standing, albeit leaning against the barrier. Later, I clumsily told him how moved I had been, and that great bandit smile spread across his face.

"For a long time I felt very sorry for myself," he said, "but when something like this happens, you move into a different world - a world you never thought about. And you feel ashamed. I remember Gunnar Nilsson talking about the children in his cancer hospital, how he had years of good life which they would never have. I can't walk, but I can drive my Ferrari Daytona, I have my driving school for handicapped people, I can still go to races, be part of them. I don't feel desperate any more."

A wonderful man. I look forward to seeing him again at Monza next week.




Dear John,
I think DC has had a terrific year, by and large. As far as I'm concerned, he has definitely raised his game in 2001, although I would concede that, to some degree, his performances have been amplified by too many lacklustre showings by Mika Hakkinen. What I'm saying is that, without a doubt, he has effectively been McLaren's number one this season - but I don't feel he has suddenly leap-frogged over the Hakkinen of 1998-2000.

In analysing David's performances, it's worth taking a brief look at how McLaren's season has gone thus far. They have won three races of 14 - as have Williams - and while that may be good by any normal standards, it is lamentable by their own in the recent past.

Why? I think there are a number of reasons. First, the Mercedes V10 is - by the whispered estimate of one or two team members - perhaps 45 horsepower shy of the BMW, and, say, 25 away from the Ferrari. Second, the MP4/16 has been too much of an understeerer to suit Hakkinen's style; at Silverstone, on the latest Bridgestones, much of that understeer was dialled out of the car, and Mika was right on it all weekend, wet or dry.

Third, although Coulthard has driven better than ever in 2001, and took superbly opportunistic victories in Brazil and Austria in what was not the fastest car, he has not been exactly lucky. Remember that pole position at Monaco, for example, which was then shot to hell by the failure of his car's launch control system?

Fourth, not often does a driver of Hakkinen's quality suffer so much appalling luck in a single season, and unquestionably his motivation has suffered. Fifth, the midseason uncertainty about Adrian Newey's future did a great deal to destabilise the team at a time when it could ill afford it. Ron Dennis won't have it that that's the case, but other team members disagree.

What I've admired most about David this year is that he has never, ever, given up, but continued to drive hard and fast every time out in a car which, frankly, has failed to match the Ferrari. Two Grand Prix wins is far less than his due. In 2001 he has indubitably done a better job than his team mate - and also a better job than his team...




Dear Bobby,
Like you, I am a huge Champ Car fan, and always have been. There is nothing that maddens more than to hear Champ Car racing denigrated by F1 people, who have never participated in it, and have no understanding of it. As far as I'm concerned, the only opinions which are valid are those which come from people with experience of both series.

Just last weekend, at Spa, for example, Ron Dennis said this: "If you want to see a show, go and watch NASCAR, IRL, CART...there's show. If you want pure motor racing, watch a Formula 1 race."

To me, 'motor racing' by definition means cars racing with each other, and overtaking - on the track. That being so, quite honestly, it if you want to watch racing, contemporary Formula 1 is the last thing you should go and see! How much 'motor racing' did Ron witness at the Hungaroring the other week, I wonder? Alesi passed de la Rosa on lap 10, and that was the only 'motor racing' we had in the whole afternoon...

When it comes to comparing the best teams in F1 and Champ Cars - say, Ferrari and Penske - it is very difficult, however. Shortly before his lamented departure from F1, Bobby Rahal - a man familiar with both series - tried to explain the differences.

"The CART team has the same elements as a Formula 1 team - it's just that there's more of everything in F1 - more people, more money, more technology, more everything - because you're doing more: you're designing the cars, you're building them, and so on. If you take away most of the design office, and all the manufacturing, you have a CART team - the same electronics people, race engineers, aero guys...maybe not as many, but they're there. So it's just a matter of having to deal with a lot more people, and all the issues that arise from that."

Penske do a superb job of 'customising' their Reynards, but it's not the same thing as conceiving, designing and building cars of your own, from the ground up - as RP and his boys know only too well, having built their own cars for so long before giving it up at the end of 1999.

If you have a question, send it to AskNigel@haynet.com.