F1 drivers don't lack character

It's often said that Formula 1 drivers lack character.

Having covered grand prix racing over the years, I know that isn't the case. But that, in itself, is revealing.

Why? Because it doesn't matter what I see of the personalities of the drivers, it matters what the public sees.

That's why the move to prevent drivers changing their helmet liveries during the season is a good one.

You could argue that this is a proscriptive move that further removes the scope for individualism. But it actually allows drivers to be associated with a recognisable colour scheme through the only bit of them that is visible to the fans during a race.

Peterson's in-car style made his reputation in the 1970s © LAT

This betrays one of the battles F1 has had to fight in recent years. This perceived lack of personality.

Or, to be more precise, the struggle to convey personality.

Yes, drivers are limited in what they can say for any number of reasons, but F1 is hardly alone in that regard.

There are sponsors to be satisfied and the ever-present risk of a storm of outrage blowing up on social media over some seemingly innocuous comment, so inevitably drivers have to be cautious.

But this is the same of the vast majority in all sports. For every motormouth, there are dozens of people who don't lend themselves to soundbites.

That reflects reality. How many of those people you run into in everyday life are the kinds of characters who churn out quotable lines every five seconds?

Where F1 really struggles is that it is almost impossible to glimpse the character of the participants during the sport itself.

Beyond automobile-based combat, what other sports offer you nothing more than a cocooned competitor with only the top half of their head visible? And even that is enveloped in a protective helmet.

The 'body language' of the car is also difficult to read for those squinting to see the cars from trackside or watching on television.

There was a time when cars were softer, moved around more and could be said to allow the driver to 'express themselves' more.

A great example of this is Ronnie Peterson. That famous shot of him in the Lotus flying sideways through Woodcote is what really defines his character in the collective memory.

Exposed drivers of the 1950s - such as Gonzalez - were more visible © LAT

With Gilles Villeneuve, it's not what he said out of the car (how many of you can conjure up his voice in your head right now?) but what he did in it that made him a legend.

Even Nigel Mansell, the great hard charger, had a knack for grabbing a car by the scruff of the neck, in stark contrast to the smooth Alain Prost.

This is what defines our view of the character, those moments, photographs, and much-replayed moments.

It's much the same with other sports. In football, Lionel Messi and Cristiano Ronaldo are widely regarded as the best players in the world.

Messi is regarded as a nice chap because he smiles and looks happy when he scores. Ronaldo is less popular because of the arrogant demeanour he often adopts.

This has little or nothing to do with their real character. But because we see them, we feel like we know more about them.

So how do you get to know Fernando Alonso? You will see him catching the odd out-of-shape moment, but there is no obvious style to the untrained eye.

It's the same with pretty much every driver on the grid. Yes, you will get a feel for what people are like in battle, but it's hardly the same.

After all, Pastor Maldonado has a reputation of something of a lunatic in the car among much of F1's following, but if you run into him in the paddock and have a chat he's a very pleasant and amiable chap.

This is F1's big problem, and it's one that career numbers and fixed helmet designs can only go so far in correcting.

So what is the answer? Well, that's where it gets tricky.

It would be great to see more of the driver's body. Look back at photographs of the 1950s and you could pick out Alberto Ascari from Juan Manuel Fangio from Jose Froilan Gonzalez from a mile off.

It would be great to be able to see their faces too, grimacing, serene, angry, focused.

But to achieve that you would need to return to open face helmets (or no helmets at all) and cockpits that leave the drivers potentially fatally exposed. So that's no solution.

It's easy to moan about safety and trot out lines about drivers today being mollycoddled, but as Jules Bianchi's fate last year reminded us, these are real people whose role in life is not simply to risk terrible injuries for our own entertainment.

If the cars moved around more dramatically, to the point where that movement is visible to the naked eye, that would improve matters.

If you watch Formula E on a low-grip street track, the cars can look pretty spectacular even though they are, by comparison to a grand prix car - or an F3 car, come to that, desperately slow.

Cars that move around a lot aren't necessarily easier to drive. In fact, often they are far more forgiving. But it is crowd-pleasing.

This is potentially an area where F1 could make ground with its much-vaunted next-generation cars, but you also can't escape the fact that modern tyre technology has moved a long way.

Having softer suspension and greater travel would also have an advantage in this regard.

Podium interviews are about all fans get in terms of access to drivers now © LAT

My favourite photograph of an F1 car is of Vic Elford in the Colin Crabbe-entered McLaren M7B at Silverstone in 1969, which shows the attitude of a grand prix car of that era when it's loaded up (see bottom picture).

But while people want grand prix cars to be spectacular, they also want them to be stunningly quick. A car with reduced reliance on aerodynamics would make a difference, certainly, but big tyres and increased mechanical grip can only make up for that so far.

You could regain some of that via underbody downforce, skirts and the like. But with aerodynamic understanding in the 21st century, to exploit the maximum from that there's no reason to think that the most effective designs won't be just as critical as the current aero of an F1 car.

So it's another area where F1 needs to have a serious think about its presentation.

Interviews on the podium are all well and good, but the moments immediately before and after the race potentially need to be better exploited if you want to convey what drivers are all about.

But there is also another way. F1 has long since embraced its elitism as part of the appeal. While that's true to a point, perhaps it's time to offer television coverage that offers a few more peeks 'behind the curtain' to give people a better feel for what is going on.

For while grand prix racing is a technical endeavour, it's also a human endeavour. The two are not mutually exclusive, which perhaps explains the enduring appeal of motorsport.