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Are hopes for a Korean Grand Prix in 2012 disappearing down the plughole?

Last weekend saw the second Korean Grand Prix. Already there are murmurs that it may be the last. Autosport are today reporting that the Korean Grand Prix organisers are seeking to renegotiate their contract with Bernie Ecclestone in order to stem their losses. Good luck with that one.

Watching the Korean Grand Prix over the weekend, it was difficult not to draw a parallel with the Turkish Grand Prix. It seems to suffer from a lot of the same problems, with an extra few problems on top just to make sure.

Istanbul Park was notorious for being in the middle of nowhere and tough to access. The Korean circuit, located at Yeongam, appears to be similarly remote. Although close to medium-sized city of Mokpo, it is several hours away from the main hub Seoul. This has been the source of some grumbles from within the F1 fraternity over the past two years.

But more striking was the emptiness of the grandstands. It did not seem quite as bad as Turkey, but it certainly was a cause for concern and a topic of conversation over the weekend. It seems as though Formula 1 has failed to capture the imagination of the Korean public.

Apparently, almost no other events take place at the circuit during the rest of the year. So it is not difficult to imagine that the facility might be struggling financially.

A lot of surprise was expressed at how little has been done to the circuit since the inaugural race last year. Even then, the circuit famously faced a race against time to even be ready to stage the race at all. In the end, it is said that corners were cut, raising concerns about the safety of the race.

Drainage was poor, the newly-laid tarmac was slippery, leading to some of the worst visibility conditions in memory. Earlier this year, Fernando Alonso said, “it remains quite shocking what we did in Korea.”

Some elements of danger have clearly not been removed in the past year. The pitlane entrance and exit are both viewed as unsafe. I had expected the pitlane exit at least to be modified following the first race, but no.

I am staggered that such a patently inadequate design to both the entrance and exit has come about. During the BBC commentary, David Coulthard joked that Hermann Tilke must have had his YTS designers working on the circuit.

Hermann Tilke has come up with a lot of goofy circuit designs, but this problem takes the biscuit. How many failed circuit designs do there need to be? You really do wonder how he has managed to be almost the only person involved in designing or redesigning Formula 1 circuits in the past 15 years, yet still manages to come out with stuff like this.

The original vision was for a city to surround part of the circuit. But none of the city appears to be in place yet. Part of the circuit is even described as a “temporary street circuit”, though quite how can you call it this when the streets themselves do not even exist yet?

The circuit itself is nothing special in terms of racing either. At least Turkey had a good circuit, with its instantly-legendary quadruple-apex Turn 8. I was also keen on the last few corners, where there was often some great wheel-to-wheel racing. Korea International Circuit has none of that.

In a way, it was a shame that the Turkish Grand Prix has ended up being dropped from the calendar (although it remains on standby to step in, just in case any more races — Bahrain, the USA or Korea — fall off the calendar). But at least Turkey managed to get seven races under their belt. Korea has two so far. Would anyone miss it if there wasn’t a third?

Standing at Hangar Straight

The morning of Saturday 20 August 2011 at Silverstone was warm and sunny. It was difficult to imagine that the weather would be a problem. As I was staying in a campsite just a stone’s throw away from the circuit, I thought nothing of just heading there in a t-shirt.

The morning was brilliant. As outlined in a previous post, I had a brilliant time wandering around the circuit and watching the qualifying sessions that were taking place.

The big race that I was looking forward to, the Formula Renault 3.5 race, was approaching. A breeze picked up, and it even began to rain. There was no way I could nip back to the campsite to pick up some warmer clothes. I had to sit it out, high up in a stand, with the bitter wind blowing right through me.

I didn’t actually feel too cold. The buzz of watching the race allowed me to ignore it more than I otherwise would. I did have a cold for about a week afterwards. But it was definitely worth it.

We opted to sit in the stand at Maggotts, where you can see the cars twice a lap. Early on in the race one driver dropped back significantly, so for almost the entire race there was always something to see.

I had worried about what it would be like trying to watch a race from the side of the track rather than the living room. Television has the obvious advantage of being able to follow the cars all the way round the track, rather than simply making do with them blasting past.

Of course, watching a race in the flesh is an exhilirating experience. But it requires a bit of skill. Sure, there are are the commentators on the public address system. But you can’t hear that when there are cars in the vicinity. So it’s a matter of taking the bits you can see with your eyes, and the shards of whatever you hear from the commentators, and piecing them together.

For Saturday’s Formula Renault 3.5 race I could almost never hear the commentators. My interest in the race did not wane though.

The main interest at the start of the race was watching Jean-Eric Vergne make his way back through the field. Vergne had to start from the pits after an apparent electrical problem on the grid. But his class was clear to see as he was able to make up several places during the race.

A clear top three emerged, with Robet Wickens, Alexander Rossi and Daniel Ricciardo opening a significant gap to the next small group of cars. For a couple of laps it looked like Rossi was capable of passing Wickens. But in the end, Ricciardo in fact got the better of Rossi, and the promising American had to make do with third.

I assumed that Wickens had won, because I couldn’t hear the commentators and we were nowhere near the finish line. I was only while I was walking round the circuit again after the race that I managed to find out for sure!

(I trudged back to the campsite to retrieve my jacket. Right on cue, the blazing sun came out again.)

It was a crushingly dominant weekend for Robert Wickens. He turned up late for Sunday qualifying after being stuck in traffic on the way to Silverstone, but that still didn’t stop him from taking pole and another win.

For Sunday’s race we opted to sit on the outside of Copse, opposite the sole television screen in the circuit. The idea was to get a fuller picture of what was going on in the race. This location has the added bonus of being at the pitlane exit, so we saw the moment when the weekend got from bad to worse for Jean-Eric Vergne!

Vergne breathes down Ricciardo's neck

The start of the race went well for him, as he was running in second place. But a wide range of different strategies were used by the drivers, and Vergne ended up behind Ricciardo after his pitstop. The pair had a pretty good battle, and Vergne had a good look at Ricciardo going into Copse.

They were so close that it was impossible to imagine any car separating them. So imagine the sensation when Nathanael Berthon emerged from the pits just in front of Vergne! From looking set for second, Vergne ended up in fifth! Definitely a weekend to forget for Vergne.

But a weekend to remember for Robert Wickens and his team, Carlin. They wrapped up the Teams’ Championship at Silverstone.

Formula Renault 3.5 wasn’t the only category to provide major excitement though. After our visit to the village, we emerged to see Mégane Trophy Eurocup cars completing their qualifying session. They were instantly captivating. For me, these cars were the surprise highlight of the racing action.

The championship may be crushingly dominated by one man, Stefano Comini, who has won 10 of the 12 races so far this season. But that doesn’t matter because these cars are so entertaining to watch. They look fantastic, but best of all they sound fantastic.

Later on in the day we watched race from Vale. Stefano Comini had a poor getaway but soon made his way up to second, behind his teammate Niccolò Nalio. The battle was hugely exciting to watch. Comini was clearly superior on the brakes, and I am sure at one point they even touched here at Vale.

Comini finally passes

It was only a matter of time before Comini would pass. In fact, I wondered if Comini’s advantage was only at Vale, because it was inconceivable that he could be so clearly superior, yet still unable to pass.

I later spoke to someone who watched the race from another part of the circuit, and he confirmed that Comini also looked stellar there as well. It just goes to show. Catching is one thing. Passing is another matter.

Comini did manage to pass Nalio in the end. A class act in the Méganes.

2011 Le Mans 24 Race 01

Confession time. I have always been a bit sceptical about the Le Mans 24 Hours.

There is nothing to doubt about its prestige, or the special challenge it presents. It clearly is one of the most important races on the planet.

But as a spectacle to watch on television, I have always been a bit wary. Could I be kept on the edge of my seat by a race where the gaps are ultimately measured in laps rather than seconds?

This year, for the first time, I have got access to Eurosport. So I decided to make a concerted effort to watch as much of the Le Mans 24 Hours as possible. For one night only, my sofa became my bed, and I dozed off with the race going on in the background.

I am mighty glad I did watch it. Because I discovered that Le Mans has it all and more.

All the initial indications were good. An intensely close battle between the Audis and Peugeots was promised. But disaster struck twice for Audi, with truly horrific crashes for Allan McNish and Mike Rockenfeller.

McNish’s crash was incredibly worrying. But the way the car teetered over the barrier before somehow opting to land back in the gravel trap, was truly frightening. I was concerned for all the photographers that were being showered in debris, and it can be considered luck that there wasn’t another 1955 Le Mans disaster.

Even scarier was Rockenfeller’s crash. It was difficult to make out anything in the darkness, but the mangled wreckage looked very little like an Audi R18 TDI. I feared the worst, and the Eurosport commentators revealed later in the race that they had as well. It was such a relief to hear that he managed to exit the car by himself and suffered only a cut arm.

These were two low points that punctuated a rollercoaster race. Once it was established that Rockenfeller was OK, I drifted off to sleep.

When I woke up at about 7am, I was astonished to see that — after around 18 hours of racing — the top three cars were all within two seconds of each other. I watched it while I could, but soon succumbed to the sleep monster for another couple of hours.

I awoke again to see my favourite of the Peugeots, the #7 driven by Anthony Davidson, Marc Gené and Alexander Wurz, had crashed off. The gaps had grown, and the fight was basically down between one Audi and one Peugeot, although there were a couple of other Peugeots a few laps down that could help out.

This tense battle, coupled with some hairy driving tactics from the Peugeots and an intriguing difference in strategy, ensured that the last few hours of the race were utterly gripping to watch. After 24 hours, the lead cars were separated by just 14 seconds. Incredible.

But it wasn’t just about the battle at the front. With 56 cars, there is no shortage of stories to tell. Plus, there is a variety in the designs of the cars and engines that simply does not exist in most other forms of motorsport.

It makes Formula 1 seem like toytown in comparison. All the F1 cars have practically identical 2.4 litre V8 engines. The spirit of innovation has been lost there in the drive to cut costs. But at Le Mans, it lives on strongly.

I also enjoyed seeing what the spirit of Le Mans is all about. The reactions of rival mechanics to the horrific Audi crashes. Victorious Audi chief Wolfgang Ullrich graciously congratulating his rivals from Peugeot immediately after the race. The deepest lows imaginable. Great joy at immense accomplishments. Sheer love of motorsport.

Watching Le Mans this year, it finally clicked with me. No longer do I just need to take people’s word for it that it is a special race. Now I feel it as well.

It can’t be easy being the oldest driver in F1. Just ask the BBC’s commentators.

I remember Martin Brundle once describing how the fact that he was the oldest driver in the 1996 season caught up with him and began to define him as a driver. Despite having a reasonable season, by the following year he had switched to his new career in broadcasting.

Meanwhile, David Coulthard’s final season in F1 was littered with clumsy accidents. Didn’t his first corner coming-together in the final race of 2008 just sum up his season?

Now it looks like it might be Rubens Barrichello’s turn to have a rusty final season. Certainly, his Australian Grand Prix weekend was about as error-strewn as it gets these days.

There was an off during Practice 2. A further spin in Qualifying 2 ended his session early, cementing 17th slot on the grid.

Then on lap one of the race he went off at turn 4. Some time later, he steamed into Nico Rosberg at the same corner. It looked suspciously like a ridiculously optimistic overtaking move that was only ever going to go wrong. But Barrichello later blamed his tyres. This sounds like a tall tale to me.

Rubens Barrichello is not the oldest driver on the grid this year. That accolade falls to Michael Schumacher, who is probably seen by most as a separate case. Schumacher faces his own kind of pressure — the over-the-hill seven times champion who should have stayed in retirement while his reputation was still in tact.

Beyond that, Barrichello is the stand-out old guy in F1. He certainly has the longevity and experience in F1 that no-one else has. He has started a truly staggering 300 grands prix. That is an astonishing 36% of all Formula 1 grands prix that have ever been held! But the experience doesn’t seem to be doing him much good at the moment.

I hope it doesn’t turn out to be the case. It’s impossible not to have a soft spot for the Brazilian. But I fear already that he may be having his “Coulthard year”.

Next weekend sees the start of the Formula 1 season. So for this week’s television presentation gem of the week, I had to feature The Chain. This week there is a campaign to get The Chain to number 1 in the charts for the start of the Formula 1 season.

Here is the title sequence to Grand Prix from 1979, the first Formula 1 season to be broadcast in full by the BBC.

Like many BBC Sport theme tunes, The Chain has gone into legend. Just as Soul Limbo is inextricably linked with cricket, so The Chain goes hand-in-hand with Formula 1. This is despite a 12 year break in which it was never used in ITV’s coverage of the sport.

I fondly remember this 1995 title sequence, which was being used when I was first getting into F1 (unfortunately this is the best quality I could find).

The Chain is one of those elements of Formula 1 broadcasting that have become almost religiously important to many of the sport’s followers. Murray Walker is another.

There is almost a folklore of F1 broadcasting which has made F1 fans particularly protective, and often critical of even the highest quality broadcasting. Commentators James Allen and Jonathan Legard have both learned that to their cost.

When F1 returned to the BBC for the 2009 season, they had no choice but to choose The Chain (albeit with a lot of sound effects added).