From the Pulpit

Preparation is everything in Formula One, we are told, and it's probably a pretty accurate maxim. So as you read this column, assuming you're reading it on Thursday, March 15, then you're reading it in F1's twilight zone: the short period between the end of everyone's preparations and the beginning of the opening race weekend. And contrary to what that old racing adage would have you believe, it isn't when the flag drops that the bullshit stops; no, the bullshit stops tomorrow.

Right now, though, people - drivers, engineers, team principals et al - are still talking about preparation. Preparation in terms of wind tunnel hours, simulator work, testing kilometres, build quality - and also, of course, in terms of driver fitness, driver focus and driver commitment. Not surprisingly, therefore, what Kimi Raikkonen did last weekend is currently being roundly 'dissed' Down Under.

While other drivers were already pounding the treadmills in the gyms of downtown Melbourne's finest five-star hotels to optimise their fitness, focus and commitment, as well as to acclimatise their body-clocks to the antipodean time zone, Kimi was still in his native Finland, competing in something called the Kopparberg King.

Kimi Raikkonen © XPB/LAT

The Kopparberg King, Finland's premier snowmobile enduro sprint race, is gruelling. "But, surely, it's also therefore dangerous," the fitness/focus/commitment brigade have been shouting in Melbourne this week. "How dare Kimi do something so irresponsible? He could have injured himself. That's no way to prepare for the first race of the most important season of F1 racing in his life!" Yada, yada, yada; blahdy, blahdy, blah.

Kimi knew that's how the F1 world would react - so he did something that reveals more about him that any Ferrari press conference ever could: he entered the Kopparberg King under a pseudonym. And the pseudonym he chose was 'James Hunt'.

Did you know that Ferrari's new number-one driver so venerates the 1976 world champion that he would choose his name as an alias? I didn't - but, although Kimi won't be drawn on the subject, it must be so. And it makes sense: James had an eye for the ladies, liked a drink, and was blindingly quick on his day. Sound familiar?

Kimi may not be a worker, but he's irrefutably fearless. More than that, he's an icon - an icon of racing purity. Stand track-side to watch him on the limit, as I will at Albert Park tomorrow, and you'll be reminded what it is about this sport that made you fall in love with it when you were 10 years old. You want shivers up your spine? You want the short 'n' curlies on the back of your neck to stand up? Then watch Kimi when he's really on it.

Oh...and how did Kimi get on in the Kopparberg King, you're probably wondering? How did he shape up against 200 of the world's quickest, bravest and most experienced snowmobiling gods, wrestling their 130bhp, 100mph mega-skidoos over icy yumps and bumps, pitting raw nerves against the most unforgiving snowscape you can imagine?

He won. Yes, that's right, he won. And I'm sorry, guys, but you won't find greater fitness, focus or commitment than that.

In truth, Kimi is a throwback to a bygone age - to the 1970s, for example, when the real James Hunt was in his pomp, or even the 1960s, when Graham Hill was F1's major party animal.

Graham Hill © LAT

Which reminds me: the evening before I flew to Melbourne, I paid a visit to the Moving Picture Company's Wardour Street headquarters in London's West End to view a private screening of Driven, a one-hour documentary film on the subject of the late Graham Hill. Made by Mark Stewart Productions, it's the work of Sir Jackie's son, Mark (pretty obviously), and his business partner, Mark Craig, and I'm pleased to tell you that it's utterly, majestically, wonderfully, inspiringly, truly, madly, deeply brilliant.

To be frank, I was in two minds whether to go to the premiere or not. After all, I had to pack for the trip to Melbourne and I was knackered. But I'm incredibly glad I did. I was spellbound from start to finish.

The mix of superb rare archive footage of Graham and Jackie and Jimmy Clark and so on in their Lotuses and BRMs and the even rarer Super-8 clips of Graham with his family (young Damon to the fore), Graham on holiday, Graham relaxing with friends (including, yes, Jackie and Jimmy), Graham making after-dinner speeches, Graham on the Parkinson show, Graham in hospital, Graham flying the light aircraft in which he would crash and die on 29 November 1975, etc, made for an extraordinarily evocative hour of nostalgia-steeped luminosity.

All F1 fans should see it - and Kimi would love it, because preparation isn't everything in F1, is it, actually? There's also heart and soul and, yes, balls - as Graham, Jackie, Jimmy, James and, yes, Kimi knew and know all too well.

In the row ahead of me, attending the premiere with the rest of us, sat Graham's family - Damon, of course, but also his sisters and his mum (Graham's widow). Alongside me sat the only other F1 journalist present: the Daily Telegraph's Kevin Garside. Now, Kevin is a fine reporter and a top bloke, but he's a man's man and no mistake, full of Lancashire grit; an ex-boxing hack, no less. But as I turned to him, as the credits rolled, with a lump in my throat, to ask him what he'd thought of the movie, I saw him hastily wipe a tear from his eye. Believe me, Driven is that good.

It deserves to be broadcast on a mainstream TV channel - in the UK, certainly, but elsewhere, too, ideally. And if this column spawns, via forums and chat rooms everywhere, an unstoppable on-line clamour that will not be quelled until the BBC or ITV or whoever buys Driven and gives it the airing it so richly deserves, then so much the better.

It's up to you guys, out there in the ether, now. Start clamouring! And cheer Kimi home on Sunday!