.jpg?trim=0,0,0,0&width=1200&height=800&crop=1200:800 "Valerie Perrine, Oscar-nominated Lenny and Superman actor who narrowly avoided Manson tragedy, dies aged 82 – UK Times")
If I were richer and more reckless than I am, I would wager a bottle of champagne with any reader who disagrees with my prediction on how the Aston Martin project will end.
Before spelling out that conclusion, there is a 13-step sequence to this sporting disaster that only a billionaire’s money could screw up so magnificently.
1) Lawrence Stroll, the now Aston owner aged 66, used to hang around years ago at the Canadian Grand Prix, in his native Montreal, trying to gain access to Bernie Ecclestone and his nexus when the old ringmaster still ruled the roost.
Ecclestone, I know, was not too impressed by the overbearing fashion tycoon and remains unconvinced by his ‘charms’ to this day.
Stroll, by this stage, was accumulating his near-£3billion fortune through innovative associations with the likes of Tommy Hilfiger and Michael Kors. He was also keen to finance and finesse the future of his son Lance, who was showing promise in karting.
Nothing would be too much for his boy. And, to cut a long story short, he bought Aston Martin in order to turn Lance into a future world champion.
Lawrence Stroll (second right) with the fruits of his riches – son Lance (right) and Aston Martin team-mate Fernando Alonso (left), and design genius Adrian Newey (second left)
Aston have failed to finish three of their four entries this season – and the only survivor was Lance in Melbourne, when he finished 15 laps behind the field
2) He spent a goldmine building a factory, a £200m edifice at the gates of Silverstone, the most advanced and most modern in the world, replete with an up-to-the-minute wind tunnel. For Lance.
3) He brought in various big-name managers and engineers. First, former McLaren boss Martin Whitmarsh. A poor appointment. There was also a carousel of team principals. He dispensed with one senior character who might have been useful to the project, Otmar Szafnauer, in a knee-jerk reflex. All hired and fired in an impatience to aid Lance.
4) Stroll Snr declared a championship-winning team would emerge in five years. That’s up this year.
5) His ambitions have since been modified to a 10-year programme. Lance will, therefore, be 32 by the time he is crowned world champion.
6) In a Trumpian bit of bravura, Stroll Snr signed the greatest designer in the world, Adrian Newey. He joined last spring. That was despite Newey being known not to rate Lance. He would not dare say that to Stroll. Newey is on £20m a year and has a shareholding in the team. To help Lance.
7) Stroll then gave Newey the job he was least suited to: team principal. Adrian’s greatness as the Michelangelo of cars is not in dispute. His record of success at his drawing board is unsurpassed and it would be absurd not to respect that. But his fragile genius needs to be protected and nurtured. He is not an organiser or a leader of men, or a media-facing figure. His introverted nature dictates this. How could Stroll not have foreseen that his star signing was miscast? But he did it for Lance.
8) So Stroll is left with a car with a Honda engine that is neither reliable nor fast. Only once have the team finished across two races this season. That was Lance in Australia, though he was lapped 15 times – I repeat, 15 times – in the most embarrassing mismatch since Herod took on the babies (the car was terrible; it was not that Lance was to blame – not a sarcastic comment in this instance). Heavens, both cars of newbies Cadillac finished in China last weekend.
9) The latest reaction erupted last week. Newey realised his limitations. Stroll kept faith in his star signing but agreed Newey should step sideways to concentrate on what he is best at – designing. Jonathan Wheatley is lined up to be team principal. The former Red Bull sporting director (an organisational role) left Audi last week to free himself up to do so. He will have to take gardening leave and will not be in post for several months.
Former Red Bull sporting director Jonathan Wheatley (left) has been brought in as team principal – but he won’t be in post for months while he sees out his notice at Audi
10) After trying Newey, Andy Cowell and Mike Krack, is Wheatley the right man to end the slump? No, Christian Horner should have been brought in. But is either the hands-on Stroll or Newey willing to water down his own role to accommodate such a big beast? One, who, it must be said, might tell Lawrence that Lance is not the driver he needs? Horner would need total autonomy rather than play second fiddle to Lawrence, who occupies the big corner office in the factory, so there is unlikely to be any road left in the idea of his joining – despite the pair having talked.
11) The car is still so bad that, as Newey said at the opening race in Melbourne, it is in danger of giving his drivers nerve damage. Fernando Alonso, the Aston driver who isn’t Lance Stroll, was seen taking both hands off the steering wheel in China last weekend to prevent him suffering from the jarring disabilities of the car.
12) Now we get to the endgame. All this mess will drag on. Alonso, 44, is getting too old. Newey is adrift. Stroll can’t make the right appointments. The staff are demoralised.
13) And poor Lance is not quite worth all the extravagant striving and expense. He is not the worst driver on a grid of superstars, and I wish him no ill, but his father’s vicarious beneficence is getting him nowhere fast.
One day, with the team still struggling, Lance, who cuts a slouching, slack-jawed air most days he is on parade, will tell his father he has had enough. Then their project will be over. His father will sell the team for £3bn-plus, and that will be that.
One day, with the team still struggling, Lance, who cuts a slouching, slack-jawed air most days he is on parade, will tell his father he has had enough
Lord of all he surveys? Not just yet
The meek shall inherit the Earth. When I started reporting on Formula One a chirpy little Renault PR chap would come up to the press room and shoot the breeze.
This week Bradley Lord, for it was he, has been appointed deputy team principal of Mercedes. Which, really, only rubber-stamps his de facto authority there in the last few years. He is the guy with the beard seen standing next to Toto Wolff in the garage.
Congratulations to him, and he will no doubt meet my gentle ribbing with his own riposte. I have always contended that he likes the last word.
I wondered if Bradley would be in charge of the Silver Arrows in Japan this weekend, it being the venue that his boss Wolff likes least on the whole calendar. But no. Wolff will be there, too, for the first time in a while. It’s an easier trip when you are destined to win.
Suzuka’s a dud
I can imagine claims of ‘idiocy’ when I ranked Suzuka 20 out of 24 in my estimation of the race tracks on the current calendar. It was only my own take and nobody else need find it meaningful. And I know I was swimming against a tide. The drivers sanctify Suzuka, venue of this weekend’s race.
But I make two points. The seven-hour time difference is the work of the devil. And, secondly, when is there any overtaking at this great track? If you dispute this analysis, look at last year’s race, memorable only as a Max Verstappen masterclass.
I shall report back on the jetlag next week, endured in a shoebox bedroom, and we shall see what impact this new and gimmickier era has on the action. But, for now, I stick to 20th out of 24.
The seven-hour time difference at Suzuka is the work of the devil. And, secondly, when is there any overtaking at this great track?
My heart breaks for you, Danny
I was asked a few months ago to write a piece about the biggest brats in sport. There were a few F1 figures on the list, but now I wish to correct an omission from outside the grand prix world.
This morning I read an interview my colleague Riath Al-Samarrai did with golfer Danny Willett, winner of the Masters 10 years ago. He should have been included on the inventory of the rude.
That is because a few weeks after his triumph, I walked all around the Old Course at St Andrews with him at the Dunhill Links Championship; 18 holes, four hours-plus etc. I asked him afterwards for a few words to help fill our pages. The vicar’s son was then Mr Big B******s and he declined without the grace many better than he have shown.
God forgive me, but it breaks my heart to report that Mr Willett has not won so much as a raffle since, and is ranked 382nd in the world.
