Secret Mechanic: Teams forget F1's a sport

There seems to be an awful lot of talk around the paddock right now about everything that's wrong with Formula 1. The major players from various teams have all got ideas to make things better, but none of them are prepared to work together to actually achieve anything.

For me, and I'm sure my many colleagues in the pitlane, the political jibing and propaganda is verging on distracting and, even worse, doesn't appear to be anywhere near coming to any kind of conclusion.

When I hear team owners - nowadays often unseen mystical personalities who barely set foot in the paddock - throwing their toys out of the pram over a technical rule that's currently hampering the performance of their team, it makes me cringe.

Firstly, the same rules apply to all and if they were genuinely a problem for everyone, there'd be total agreement in changing them and it'd be done before we had a chance to argue over it.

Next, when teams get into a war of words in the media it never looks good for anyone; having been part of one of those teams, I feel it reflected on me and the professionalism I always try to uphold.

When we're all wearing the same shirt, we're all tarnished with the same brush if things get messy at the top level.

The point I'm trying to make here is that when team owners were also the team principals, sitting on the pitwall directing operations and genuinely in charge, they wore the same shirt as us mechanics.

The actions of a boss can impact on the whole team © XPB

They felt the pride that we experience when things go well. If we're the quickest at pitstops, it means a lot to us and I always felt that the old generation of bosses would feel it too and pump fists in the air at even the smallest of victories.

Nowadays it feels more sterile, like some of those 'in charge' are more worried about their own jobs and pleasing 'the board' than the passion of the hundreds working at the team.

When I see an article in the paper or online, supposedly quoting my own management - or more likely the parent company or group that somehow owns my team - complaining that the rules aren't fair, or that they need to be changed to allow us to catch up to the leaders, I worry.

I don't always share their opinions and I don't feel united with them in the fight. I feel like we should be rolling our sleeves up and getting on with it, even if it does mean going through a period of difficulty along the way.

I've been around F1 for a long time and worked at a few different places. I've been lucky enough to enjoy some success and have also been through some very tough times, but by far the moments that have meant the most to me, are the ones where we've pulled together as a team and overcome some sort of adversity.

It might have just been a great result for us, where we beat our biggest rivals at the back of the field, or punching above our weight in qualifying, but they've always been moments when we've worked hard, together as a team from top to bottom, to achieve them.

If we found ourselves struggling or having produced a less-than-competitive car at the start of a season, we would have two choices: write off that particular championship campaign at some point, or get everyone together and formulate a plan to fix it.

Many a rousing speech from old-school team principals has helped inspire me and my team-mates to turn around a seemingly dire situation, but only when I've believed they were talking from their hearts with a genuine, shared passion.

Quit threats are no joke for team members and their families © XPB

Of course there's plenty to be improved on the financial side of F1, but from a technical and sporting point of view it feels like there are one or two 'spoilt brats' around at the moment.

Threatening to pull out of the sport or to embark on legal action to wriggle out of contracts when things aren't going well doesn't just look bad.

The effects on the team can be significant too. Imagine hearing your own boss, someone you've probably never even met, talking about quitting the sport, taking his 'train set' and leaving.

Imagine what the hundreds of people in that team feel like when they go home to their wives, husbands and families who've all heard the comments on TV, radio or social media and are now wondering how long their mortgages can be paid if the worst happens.

F1's far from perfect in a number of areas, but it's far from being completely broken. It's still a sport and those who take part, as drivers, mechanics, engineers and the myriad other roles involved, are in the most part hugely competitive.

We do what we do, not for the money or the supposed 'glamour', but because we love it and are addicted to the challenge it presents; we love the ups and downs, the fight with our competitors and the team spirit it fosters.

When we get it right it's the most amazing feeling in the world, and when we get it wrong it hurts.

But when we do get it wrong, it shouldn't trigger a battle between lawyers trying to swing the rules back into our favour, or a war of words between the invisible puppet-masters; it should trigger a primal response from everyone wearing the shirt, starting at the very top, to regroup, dig in and fight to the end.

Sometimes I wish some of the characters at the top of our sport would remember it's just that - a sport.