Dodgy Business

Listening to the radio the other day, there was a debate about Muslim community relations. A caller to the programme wanted to know why we only heard bad things, why there was never anything about positive initiatives to present a more balanced view.

The presenter eventually admitted what we all know: good news doesn't sell. Everyone knows that a serial killer or a disaster will shift far more papers than Sir Fred Bloggs' latest gong for community service.

We're all guilty of it to a greater or lesser degree. I'd like to think that the motorsport press generally retains a decent sense of perspective, but we're still more likely to write about the problems and conflicts. We'll discuss why the FIA has done this or hasn't done that, or Honda's latest 'disaster,' far sooner than we'll get into the technical competence behind the stunning reliability we see today, or how a 37-year-old continues to show the commitment of a 21-year-old and is now only 13 victories short of a preposterous record of 100 Grand Prix wins.

It's only when we see other sports, other fields of endeavour, that the true excellence of what we have in F1 starts to sink in. I don't want to be accused of squinting out through rose-tinted specs, I just think that every now and then we should stop to appreciate it.

Take the football. According to Peter Crouch, England's poor lambs missed their penalties against Portugal because they were tired. Bless them. So why weren't the Germans feeling all weary when they strode confidently forward and planted all their spot kicks into the net to despatch the Argies?

Frank Lampard, Steven Gerrard, Gary Neville, Peter Crouch after England are knocked out of the 2006 World Cup © Reuters

By comparison, England's penalty takers looked as if they'd just been selected for a walk to the gallows or a public flogging. It wasn't just me that thought so. Formula One tends to be in North America whenever there is a football tournament of world or European importance, so you end up watching the games between practice sessions amid the good-natured banter of your international colleagues.

"Your guys just weren't up for it," one said to me, grinning. "They didn't have the stomach." And he was Swiss.

Then came the revelation that the Germans had been practicing! Would you believe that one of the back-room staff had actually gone so far as working out which teams they might face in the knockout stages? He had obtained video footage of those teams' penalties over the last few years, including club footage of their potential kickers. He made notes, which were passed on to the goalkeeper just before the kicker stepped up, and lo-and-behold, the fellow saved a load.

This was presented in the media as if the Germans had just split the atom or invented the wheel. I remember after the '98 debacle, England manager Glenn Hoddle said there was no point practicing penalties because the training ground could never replicate the pressure of the actual stadium. It was all a mental thing. Which put me in mind of the famous line from the golfer Gary Player, about it being incredible how much luckier he became when he practiced. How much were we paying that Swedish bloke - four or five million UK pounds a year? Pathetic.

I don't know if Ross Brawn is going to sign an extension to his Ferrari contract but, if not, Brian Barwick from the Football Association could do a lot worse than give Ross the coach's job. Let the lads get on with the bladder kicking with Ross responsible for preparation and attitude.

The levels of professionalism in the two sports just bear no comparison. Think about how many pit bonfires we'd have had over the past 12 years if nobody practiced pitstops. Or the computer programmes that allow the teams to factor in the smallest details and react almost instantly to developments in a race, changing their strategy accordingly. OK, sometimes they get it slightly wrong. But, when they do, it's down to a human reaction, made in perhaps 30 seconds, to a conundrum that is often a moving target. And still we slag them off!

Then there are the team principals and, especially, the technical personnel, for whom a race can be so mentally challenging. And yet, minutes afterwards, they will give rational, reasoned, insightful and intelligent responses to press questioning that is sometimes banal. Compare and contrast with the lip service you often get from a football manager in similar circumstances.

That's not to say we're perfect. Compulsory media work can be just as irksome to a Grand Prix driver as a footballer, and it would be wrong to generalise. Everyone handles it differently.

David Coulthard interviewed by the press at the 1998 Spanish Grand Prix © LAT

I remember being with a Mercedes media gathering a few years back, on some big barge, cruising down the Rhine. The drivers were captive to the flocks of TV crews and journalists and, at the time, there was some doubt as to whether the team was going to re-sign David Coulthard. The TV interviews were first, and I was with a group of journalists sat just to the left of DC, up in the bow. You could hear everything that was said as, for about an hour, DC did interview after interview.

Every one was the same and it was only after David had been asked for the 12th time if the team was going to re-sign him - a question that he either didn't know the answer to or couldn't let on if he did - that you began to appreciate the patience, the politeness and the professionalism.

When the TV boys were done, DC had to start all over again with us, the written media.

"I think you've all got the drift by now," he said, "but in case you haven't, the first one of you buggers who asks me that question is going overboard!"

Just then, a hospitality girl in a Bavarian frock came by with fresh beers for everyone. And DC's mineral water. It's not all a picnic.

But, as ever, there's room for improvement. From the USA I had cause to speak to one of the Fleet Street regulars who had been diverted from Indiana to South-West London for the duration of Wimbledon.

He had just watched Rafael Nadal, a 20-year-old Spaniard and the world's No. 2 tennis player, digging deep to overcome an American qualifier ranked 237 in the world, in five sets.

"What they need to do," he said, "is record these press conferences and play them back to the F1 guys. Nadal is younger than Alonso, he's under all the same pressures, and he's just come in here and done the post-match interviews with the kind of humour, wit and interest that would be a total education for our guys."

And it's true enough that one of the problems F1 has, something Ron Dennis touched on recently, is that for much of the time we only see a driver with the visor down. The public learns little of the personalities. Post-race, via the TV unilaterals, you get a few platitudes about the race and that's it. Amid the allowed time-frame, you can't really expect more but maybe the format could be improved.

Every time we go to the States, there are always questions as to why F1 never quite cuts it over there. Answers include poor promotion, lack of live TV coverage coast-to-coast, racing lacking in interest/closeness/average speed (delete as applicable) and a lack of personalities.

This last point was picked up by Jacques Villeneuve, who says that American racing has heroes. Drivers, he points out, have 30-year careers and although they get a bit slower, fans still want to see them. Age, JV points out, does not destroy a reputation over there. In Europe, by contrast, we look to replace people of a certain age and bring young guys in, which, JV says, gives the impression that anyone can handle an F1 car.

Andre Agassi, 1990 © Reuters

That might strike you as an entirely predictable attitude for a 34-year-old coming to the end of his BMW contract, who has a German teammate and a fast, promising-looking 21-year-old Pole in the team's third car... But the hero bit, at least, is valid. They have to do their talking on the track, sure, but those few minutes in front of the cameras matter too.

Go back to Wimbledon and look at the emotion that greeted the final curtain on Andre Agassi's career on the hallowed lawns. Ironically, his era was brought to an end in straight sets a couple of days later by the same Nadal, who now took a back seat as Centre Court rose to acclaim Agassi.

It had been 19 years since the brash Las Vegan son of an Iranian boxer appalled middle-class England with cut-off shorts and a propensity for denim Nike tennis kit, swiftly outlawed in Wimbledon of course. In the intervening time he's turned from boy to man, won eight grand slam tournaments and worn his heart on his sleeve. In short, he's become a personality.

At 35, time, as well as Steffi Graf and babies, has caught up with him. Whereas Michael can still do it with a machine, Andre needs legs that are starting to protest. When it was time for the final bow, there was barely a dry eye in the house. From screaming teen to toothless granny, they all loved him. Agassi himself could barely force the words out.

Schumacher himself is an emotional man, much more so than most appreciate. But when his time comes, will the reaction be the same? It ought to be. OK, Michael has been a bit physical, parked his car once or twice, but then Agassi has flaunted authority and been less than Angelic in his time.

For me, F1 has all the ingredients of other top sports, and more. We have the excellence, the technical competence, and the personalities. The professionalism knocks football into a cocked hat. But, as Villeneuve suggests, human drama we could do better. And that, after all, is what sport is about.