A proper new flying Finn at last?

The Finnish secret was out. And, I'll be honest, I was shocked. A little bit stunned even. Surely he was joking. Joking he was not.

I'm going to keep the identity of my two Finnish friends a secret - their revelations probably wouldn't go down terribly well in these days of health and, above all, safety.

A few years ago, I was trying to source the sisu. Sisu, for the uninitiated, is an inner-steel, an ability to dig deeper and give more of yourself - the sort of attribute that was a prime requirement for keeping the Russians at bay through the 1939 Winter War; when Moscow wanted eastern Finland to become western Russia. Despite being hugely outnumbered, the Finnish border held firm.

More recently, the flying Finns have traded on sisu in their time between the trees.

But there was more to it than that.

"More than sisu," insisted my first friend, smiling at the deeply inappropriate nature of his imminent disclosure. "Stage start: nip of vodka. Kill the fear."

Kill the fear.

Crikey. It worked though. But obviously, we're not about to advocate a hip-flask holder next to the happy stick.

I thought I'd heard it all, until I turned to friend two, to ask how, 30 years ago, they had coped with driving through the human tunnels. With the apex only showing itself at the last possible moment, when the last person in the massed ranks of crowd had taken half a step back.

Alen and other Finnish rally stars were fearless competitors © LAT

"Soft trees," he whispered.

Excuse me?

"Soft trees," he repeated. "You had to think of them as soft trees."

Ah, OK.

The mental strength to deal with that kind of thing was no problem for these boys. At the height of their pomp, they ate non-Finns for breakfast while racing around 1000 Lakes.

The concept of a Finn being beaten at home was laughable. The thought of a Finn being beaten on any gravel round of the World Rally Championship, barely conceivable.

The first time Sebastien Loeb won Rally Finland in 2008, I fielded a call from Markku Alen. The great one had been absent from Jyvaskyla and wanted to know what had gone on in his absence.

"David," commanded Markku, "tell me, how is this happening? How is Mikko [Hirvonen] being beaten?"

There was no point dressing it up. Loeb was quicker. Full stop.

It didn't go down well.

"If," said Alen, after a moment to process the news, "this was happening to me, I would close the phone, and sit in sauna for a week to think about what I had done."

I've been fortunate enough to interview lots of legends down the years, but that conversation is one I'll take to my grave. Markku was mortified on behalf of his countrymen. Winning in Finland meant that much.

Let's be honest, it still does.

You only had to witness the look Jari-Matti Latvala gave to his father Jari when he stepped out of the Polo R WRC earlier this month: two hardcore rallying Finns in heaven.

But Latvala Jr, Hirvonen, Harri Rovanpera and, to an extent, Marcus Gronholm were a different breed from the vodka-nippers of a generation before.

Winning at home still means a lot for Finns like Latvala © McKlein

Put simply, they're just too nice.

OK, when Gronholm and his co-driving brother-in-law Timo Rautiainen revved each other up, they could find some needle - especially when Richard Burns found his way into their Peugeot team.

I remember Rally Australia 2006. Gronholm flipped his Ford Focus, ending a shot at the title. The big man was filthy, covered in Perth's trademark red dust, having rolled around on the floor trying to right his bent motor.

"No shit questions," he barked as I approached. I paused, mentally rehearsing my enquiry to ensure it would fall into the non-shit category. Confident, I opened my mouth, but before I could start... "Sorry," he said, "shit morning."

A good few years earlier, Alen had started the Audi Sport Rally in a Subaru Legacy RS, looking to gain some much-needed mileage ahead of the 1990 RAC. He arrived at the corner I was spectating on without the flat-four rumble.

He arrived on foot. Face like thunder.

"Gearbox," he spat, without breaking stride. In the scheme of things, this was a nothing test-event. But to him, it was a rally and rallies were there to be won. Anything less wasn't worth talking about.

Compare and contrast.

Bad Finns had gone for good.

Or so I thought.

Turns out, I was wrong: Jyvaskyla rejoice, a sisu-filled, hard-edged Finn is here.

And he's definitely got the makings of a Finnish-style world champion. He's selfish, ruthless and utterly confident in his own ability.

Those character traits were there when I first met him four years ago, but they were hidden beneath a bashful veneer. Not buried, just hidden. You didn't have to dig, just scratch the surface and the confidence was there. Precocious then has become inevitable now.

Finnish champions Alen and Gronhom, in 2006 © LAT

Finland's new bad boy has all his ducks in a row: he's got the management, the contract, the attitude and, apparently, the offers.

More importantly, lessons have already been learned.

Most importantly, he's got speed in spades.

Landing a good deal early, he was shipped off to some of world rallying's quieter corners to learn his trade. The bright lights could wait. He didn't like that: the World Rally Championship is the only place for world champions. Would-be or otherwise.

His employers stuck to their guns. Teeth were being cut, titles won and frustrations worked through.

The absence from the frontline simply fuelled the desire further and when he landed back where he wanted to be earlier this year, everything fell into place.

This guy was quicker, more experienced and more rounded than he'd ever been.

His inability to accept teething troubles with a new car was old-school Finnish. He was ready to drive, ready to win and now he was having to work with a car which was less than perfect.

It was Alen on the Audi Sport all over again.

And when the wins came, there was, of course, plenty in reserve. At home, he took the best of the rest to the cleaners. And left them there.

How hard had he been going?

"Eighty per cent."

A deadpan message to those still down the cleaners: "Is that all you've got?"

Earlier this month he went one step further in confirming his credentials as a pukka flying Finn when he went off the road on an asphalt round of the series. Spellbinding as these boys are on the dirt, as often as not, Tarmac could get the better them.

But actually, newbie's got the Tar sussed too. By his own admission, one of his biggest achievements in the sport to date came when he won in Far Eastern forests one week, then came and hammered out a quite brilliant victory just days later on a prominent asphalt round of the European Rally Championship.

None of this is enough now, though. The centre stage is calling. And he can't wait.

Finland, old-style, is about to be put back on the map. This boy won't accept, can't accept, that anybody can go from A-to-B quicker than him.

Bring it on, Esapekka Lappi.