For my entire sports viewing life, I have dismissed any race involving an automobile as rubbish. How can something be considered a sport if the “athlete” is sitting down the whole time?
Growing up in America, where the motor-racing sport of choice is NASCAR, shaped this view. Listening to people commentate, analyse and write sportsbook reviews on a bunch of cars turning left turned me off from any sport where an engine does most of the work.
This all changed when I found myself presented with the Monaco Grand Prix.
Three friends and I walked into a pub to have a late breakfast last Sunday. We were enjoying ourselves, reminiscing on the previous night’s encounters, when within five minutes, all talking stopped.
We were glued to the 20-inch television above the bar, as images of gorgeous race-cars zooming through the beautiful, narrow streets of Monaco flashed across the screen.
I could not believe my own actions. Was I really watching a car race? Was I actually enjoying it? I couldn’t help myself.
Watching this in a pub without any sound, we did not have any commentators to guide us through our questions. If a Formula 1 fan had heard us, there was no question he went home laughing at the naïve Americans.
“How do they slow down so fast?” “There is no way he can make that turn!” “Why is there a computer on the steering wheel?” “How many laps do they drive?”
We had more questions watching the race than the time I walked into Inception half-way through the film.
Around lap 40, I stopped trying to understand what was going on and just took in the beauty of the race – incredibly fast cars driving through the beautiful French coastal town. Who cares if I don’t know why a car seemed to intentionally fish tail… that is just plain fun.
After the race ended, the four of us left the pub and by the time we stepped out the door, each of us had forgotten the winners’ name. (But I do remember he was driving a Red Bull car. I guess that makes the energy drink company the real winner). However, the Monaco Grand Prix had left its mark in our brain, and next time I see a race on TV, I might watch a few laps.
But I still won’t watch a stock cars turn left for five hours.
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