Maybe Jersey Shore has had more of an adverse effect on society than we all realized.
Of all the issues, controversies, unresolved contracts and other off-track racing news populating this offseason, there’s one I feel worth addressing.
It’s the quickly dissolving lack of Italian drivers in top-flight motorsport. And it’s a situation that I hope isn’t made worse by one of the most insensitive comments I’ve ever read, regardless of the fact I’m an Italian-American.
The last die cast in Formula 1 came when Jarno Trulli was jettisoned on Friday to make way for Vitaly Petrov at Caterham. Petrov’s far from inadequate and has certainly shown the chops to be a reasonable F1 driver in two seasons with Renault, now Lotus – to move to the team formerly Lotus, now Caterham. However, the undeniable reason Petrov is there is his substantial Russian backing.
Trulli gets unceremoniously dumped after a 15-year career as someone whose potential was never fully maximized in F1. On his day, Trulli was brilliant – his lone win at Monaco 2004 holding off an equally hungry (and at that time, equally winless) Jenson Button was fascinating and a refreshing interruption to Michael Schumacher’s reign of dominance that year. He had some great qualifying runs throughout his career for Toyota, Renault, Jordan and Prost, but was all too frequently beaten down by a car not suited for his style, and rendered invisible the last two seasons versus Heikki Kovalainen in equal machinery.
Still, the loss is what Trulli represents – a heritage that has spanned entirely throughout F1’s history, and one of the sport’s most iconic countries. Italy may only have two World Champions, but Italy is F1. Monza is hallowed ground – one of the races I’d most like to attend once in my life – and the tifosi exudes a passion unlike almost any other in racing. F1 has had an Italian on its grid every year going back to the '70s, save for a few instances in 1996 when gentleman driver Giovanni Lavaggi failed to qualify in another passionate Italian team, Minardi (it ain't Toro Rosso, but that's a topic for another day).
Ferrari is F1 too, and its inability to develop and foster a succession plan for young and talented Italians coming through the ranks – learning both the driving and sponsorship-gathering aspects of the game – has really been exposed. It was bad enough that in 2009, Luca Badoer and Giancarlo Fisichella went through the embarrassing seven-race saga in the worst Ferrari car in 20 years, doing damage to the likes of Italians driving Ferraris, and then were unfairly lambasted by the press (Badoer far more so).
On the North American side of the pond, there have been some opportunities for Italians to come over. While Alessandro Zanardi and Massimiliano Papis – or, as they’re better known, Alex and Max – were unheralded “F1 rejects” when they arrived in 1996 (my first year watching), they only managed to provide two of the most spell-binding moments I’ve ever witnessed in 17 years of watching motorsports.
Papis’ legendary drive at Daytona in the beautiful Ferrari 333SP prototype put his name on the map, with his chance coming under challenging circumstances in CART later that year. Zanardi, meanwhile, did this thing called “the pass” at Laguna Seca that year – I’m guessing Bryan Herta still curses it out – and my fleeting interest as a 7-year-old was cast in stone that day.
What Zanardi and Papis brought to CART in the late ‘90s was unquestionable speed, flair for the dramatic, a joie de vivre for their livelihood, and a passion and humor that resonated in the paddock and made them a hell of a lot of fans. I remember autograph sessions at Long Beach in ’98 and ’99; that while many of the lines were long, the ones for those two meant a lot more because you could just see how much they loved doing it.
On this side of the pond, we haven’t had a top-flight Italian in open-wheel racing since Papis left for greener pastures after partial seasons in 2002 and 2003.
The closest anyone’s came to getting there is Giorgio Pantano, an underrated F3000 and GP2 veteran who was tossed out of F1 after driving a geriatric Jordan chassis, and, unsurprisingly, a lack of funding.
Pantano first came over in 2005 and impressed in two road course outings for Chip Ganassi. Flash forward six years and Pantano was back, again with helmet in hand, if not deep pockets on his diminutive frame. Will Buxton was pleased. And like a duck to water, Pantano was fast.
In a Dreyer & Reinbold car, Pantano wheeled the thing damn near “best of the rest” at Infineon, finished sixth, and then got dropped to 17th after falling afoul of the blocking rule. Two races later, he set fastest lap at Japan, and we haven’t heard from him since.
This brings us to Luca Filippi, who may be in line for a seat in the 2012 IZOD IndyCar Series if he can do what few other Italians have been able to these many years – bring a paycheck to accommodate his talent. Filippi, like Pantano, has spent most of his career on the doorstep of F1, proving year after year in below average equipment he was worthy of a shot. And despite a record number of starts and a vice championship finish in this past year’s GP2 Series, no team made him an offer for him to refuse.
I’ve not met Filippi, but I’d be surprised if he was anything other than what the other three Italians are – amiable, personable, and generally enthusiastic about life. And damn quick behind the wheel of a car.
I was appalled, then, to read this comment in Robin Miller’s piece lamenting why Sarah Fisher’s all-American team, led by rookie standout Josef Newgarden, may not be on the grid:
"It’s still possible that if Luca Fillipi’s deal with Rahal for a second car doesn’t happen, then Fisher-Hartman could get Honda’s 12th engine.
…
As it stands right now, the popular Indy car loyalist whose team was the feel good story of 2011 and hired a young American star for 2012 may get to play if some Italian none of us have ever seen can’t write a check."
That, while nowhere near as bad as ESPN’s blatant racist headline describing Jeremy Lin’s first loss with the Knicks last week, is no less xenophobic. It’s a disgusting line that passes the blame on to an innocent young driver who, like anyone else, is trying to make a career out of driving in racing – and if he can’t do it in Europe, he’s trying to do it in America.
Does he forget Alex Zanardi and Max Papis were “some Italian(s) none of us ever seen?”
Full disclosure, I really like and respect Robin Miller most of the time. His passion is unquestioned. I’m thankful to have met Robin as I’ve been working on developing my own career in this industry. I’m thankful for his insights. His connections. His kind words to “this kid.” I appreciate his coverage of a sport I think kicks NASCAR’s ass.
And I love Josef Newgarden. I think he’s going to be a star in this sport – as soon as he gets an engine. He is mature beyond his years, well-spoken and articulate, and deserving of his opportunity.
It’s bad enough there aren’t enough Americans in what is this quintessentially American sport, and that’s part of Robin’s point. The fact there could only be six or seven Americans in a projected 27 or 28-car field is far from what the series should be striving for.
But Italy is a country with just as much racing history. It’s bad enough that its own economic uncertainty has wreaked havoc on its upcoming drivers gathering the necessary backing. Some of them have been able to attempt to make it into the U.S. after they were tossed out of or never given the opportunity to enter F1.
For an innocent newcomer to be blamed for someone else’s problem, that he didn’t cause, while just trying to extend his own career, is an inexcusable mistake I wish Robin wouldn’t have made.
Part of me thinks Luca Filippi should leave knowing he might be public enemy number one without ever turning a wheel. Part of me thinks his check might bounce. But another part of me wants him to come, get his money in place, and kick some ass on the racetrack.
