Speed Reader

David Coulthard: It Is What It Is
By David Coulthard. Published by Orion Books.

So, where do you stand on the career of David Coulthard?

Has he been an unbridled success whose statistics stand up to even the closest scrutiny? Is he a talented driver whose career had the misfortune to dovetail with those of a couple of the sport's rare freaks? Or is he someone who was given the best car in the field on at least two occasions, and failed to deliver a title?

The reality is that you could probably make a convincing argument for all three. Indeed, it's a question that Coulthard himself seems to struggle with in his new autobiography.

He'll frequently remind you that he was forced to play second fiddle to Mika Hakkinen during the late 1990s, which had both material and psychological ramifications, but also candidly admits that he has had trouble achieving race-by-race consistency, which is an important quality to possess if you fancy yourself as a serious championship contender.

Anyway, irrespective of the answer, the fact that Coulthard is both introspective and honest enough to address the question in his new book is a good illustration of why I liked it.

Too many autobiographies and biographies of modern drivers tend to be hastily written, lightweight puff pieces aimed at a lowest common denominator. Coulthard's new offering is one of the rare examples of something offering at least a little bit of substance. Irrespective of whether you agree with what Coulthard and ghostwriter Martin Roach might say, at least they have put some thought into it.

Ironically, in light of his longevity, Coulthard is one of the drivers that I personally have had the least to do with in the time that I have spent traipsing around F1 paddocks with a Dictaphone and notepad. I haven't been avoiding him or anything; it's just worked out that way. (I doubt that he has lost any sleep over it).

But it means that my opinions of him are shaped mostly by either watching him in press conferences, or hearing other people talk about him - neither of which give you any claim to 'knowing' anything about someone.

One impression that I had harboured about the Scot was that there always seemed to be a slightly defensive streak about him, as if he constantly felt the need to reassert himself and justify his position within Formula One. And there are moments in this book that seem to back me up, although he would probably argue that he's often had to defend himself because of constant media scrutiny.

Don't let all the talk of self-analysis give you the impression that this is a moody book, though. Coulthard comes across as grounded and down to earth as anyone can possibly be after such a long stint in such a strange little world, and he's entirely realistic enough to recognise as much:

"Occasionally I will see something on the TV or elsewhere and it makes me think, 'Fucking hell, my life is so disposable ...' Being a racing driver is such a specific way of life, and certain events in the 'real' world really shock you to the core'." (p. 15).

The theme of favouritism within the walls at McLaren during his tenure with the team is one that Coulthard returns to quite often, which is understandable - it's possible that when all is said and done, those are the years that will ultimately define his career.

He knows that 1998 and 1999 offered him his best ever chance at a title, and the fact that he didn't deliver is something that he places squarely upon the nature of Ron Dennis's relationship with Hakkinen.

Coulthard is not shy about declaring that Dennis was supporting the Finn, and provides examples that he says prove his case. But he does so without making it sound like sour grapes - he takes responsibility for the areas that he felt he could control, and also make a point of acknowledging what he gained from his time in the silver cars.

But most people have assumed that Mika was the nominal number one at McLaren for years, so that was not in itself such a bombshell. More interesting is Coulthard's claim that he is the main man at Red Bull Racing:

"The situation at Red Bull is much more in favour of me than it was at McLaren. My position within Red Bull can be very rewarding. If there is a component or car that is known to be slightly better, I am certain they will give me the benefit of that component or vehicle over the other driver." (p.272)

Elsewhere in the book, Coulthard's admission that he used to suffer from an eating disorder has already attracted some attention in the wider media, and draws the spotlight towards a problem that has not previously been given much space in racing circles.

Not all of his revelations are so sombre. Coulthard's admission of his dependency upon a pair of lucky underpants is not in itself particularly eyebrow-raising - we all have our quirks - but his habit of continuing to carry said garments around with him in a bag after they had become unwearable is possibly overstepping the line! The McLaren employee who inadvertently threw them away probably did him a favour in the long run.

Indeed, it has to be said the book is generally pretty funny. I quite liked Coulthard's reconciliation of the fact that he'd lost his McLaren seat to Juan Pablo Montoya:

"He [Montoya] didn't help his cause by making harsh remarks about me, but I've forgotten what he said, so I can honestly say it troubled me even more briefly than his time at McLaren lasted. I wouldn't stoop so low as to be that childish. I pride myself on being the consummate professional and always coolly diplomatic. I'll say this, though, he's a chubby little fella." (p. 249-250).

Criticisms? Well, there are a few. I appreciated Coulthard's efforts to get to the bottom of his playboy image, although I did get a little tired of reading about his ex-girlfriends.

That could be a personal thing - I've never been the type to care who Lily Allen has stumbled out of a Shoreditch bar with at 3am - and Coulthard does redeem himself by revealing a little more about himself in his accounts, particularly in talking about trying to shake off such a reputation.

But after a while, I have to admit that I started to lose interest. Like I said, it's not my thing, although six billion Hello! readers can't be wrong...

The manuscript could also have done with one more trip to the editor before going to print, which might have helped tighten up some of the repetitions and also fixed a few dumb typos that snuck through. Still, these are only minor quibbles, and the good comfortably outweighs the bad.

Too few F1 books seem to be written with much respect for the readers, treating them merely as 'idiots to whom we can shift x-thousand units'. But on this occasion, Coulthard and Roach have come up with something genuinely worth reading. Irrespective of whether or not you're a DC fan, you could do worse than find this under the Christmas tree in a few weeks' time.