The Best Things In Racing Are Free

The day of the 2002 San Marino Grand Prix I was watching the British Superbikes at Donington. Thankfully, I was encased in our comfy car, flask of coffee, some sarnies and a little television that has seen more knocks than Lennox Lewis. I had live action, a fuzzy screen with crackling commentary from ITV for the F1 and all was well in my little world. However, it wasn't long till my heckles were on the rise.

As you'll remember much of the talk that weekend was Eddie Jordan's trimming down of his team's workforce and the great economic debate was in full flow. Is Formula One on the verge of the pauper house? What about the ever looming threat of the loss of tobacco and television revenues? There are, always have been and always will be, have and have nots in Formula One. Now, the discussion on racing economics has been well debated here on Pitpass by Mike Lawrence and Geoff Collins. As I sat in the cooling Donington air I found my feelings coming down to a very basic level. My heart was not bleeding. My mind, which is frighteningly inept in terms of money matters, can only conclude that there's plenty of money in the Formula One pot and it is the division that is at fault. I cannot help but look on and think 'sort it, shut up, race the bloody cars'.

No-one in Formula One is really suffering. There isn't a line of drivers outside the Monaco Social Security on a Monday morning topping up their minimum wage. Michael Schumacher doesn't walk into the house on a Sunday evening shouting 'Get your hand down the back of the settee Corinna, the gas bill's due'. Look around the pitlane and paddock and you'll see a swathe of people getting a fair days pay for a fair days work and others getting plenty for very little. And at times Formula One stretches it hands out to the less fortunate in the world by letting popstars and actors in for free and feeding them. Which reminds me, let me digress a little with a story of such hospitality.

Once upon a time a well known actor was a guest at a race and being shown around a Formula One pit. The engineer showed him the ins and out of a race garage and handed him a laptop that was being used to do all that computer stuff that is beyond my scope. 'Thank you very much' says Mr. Actor and tootles off down the pitlane, laptop under his arm. 'Haha' thinks the engineer, he's pretending to take our computer. Said actor shows no sign of returning so the engineer sets off down the pitlane to find him. 'Mmm, excuse me' he says when he finds the actor, 'can I have our computer back?'. 'Oh sorry' says the actor, 'I thought you were giving it to me as a promotional gift.'

Back to my financial musings as I sat in the now downright freezing Donington mist. Perhaps the cold and rain was making me a crotchety old bag as I wondered how much grid girls got paid for holding a flag and what the hospitality people were eating in the warm, plush marquees as they tried to figure out how to turn the televisions over from that awful racing stuff. It was at that point a poor superstock rider couldn't negotiate the circuit which was fast turning into a river. After skidding along on his leathered bottom the rider came to halt with a splash in one of the many puddles that had formed. Within seconds there was a flash of orange as if from no where a band of marshals ran out to return rider and bike to the upright position and it was then that I sighed with relief.

Where would motor racing be without marshals? Well no where as there'd be none. From club racing to Grand Prixs it's the men and women of the marshalling ranks that ensure there's a race. Imagine all the marshals wake up one Sunday morning, then turn over and go back to sleep; result, no racing. So there must be a huge pay back to tempt these people from under the duvets in the small hours of a Sunday morning. And that pay back comes in a currency so often forgotten in today's motor racing world, the satisfaction of supporting the sport alone . It has nothing to do with cold, hard cash as marshals get nothing, nowt, zilch, diddly squat.

Marshalling is a hobby done for the love of motorsport. These men and women put aside their time and their own money to train in the many aspects of marshalling whether they are a flag marshal, incident marshal, race administration, pit marshal, the list of roles is lengthy. It may shock many to know there are over 1000 marshals at the British Grand Prix, each receiving a small sum of lunch money. Many marshals don't just dedicate their services to British events but will travel around the world to marshal at international races, some of whom will pay up to £1000 or more to go on such a working holiday.

It is thanks to the generosity of these people, their supporters and sponsors that a wheel ever turns on a track. Imagine the cost to motorsport if all the marshals of the world were fully waged, it would be the sort of figure that make team bosses sweat.

And this is no vocation for those who think it involves loitering in front of David Coulthard's garage once a year. A marshal who is a spectator is as much use as a chocolate mug. Marshalling involves a deep commitment to on-going training, the patience of a saint, the stamina an ox, an endless readiness and a deep rooted passion many of us think we have but don't come close to.

The role of marshals and the reality of the danger they can be in has been in focus in recent years after the deaths of Australian marshal Graham Beveridge and Italian marshal Paolo Ghislimberti. Another case many may have heard of is that of Goodwood marshals Andy Carpenter and Steve Tarrant. At the 2000 Goodwood Festival, John Dawson-Damer's Lotus 63 crashed, knocking down Andy and Steve who were marshalling at Flying Finish 1. John was killed instantly, Andy died during an operation a few hours later. Steve was resuscitated at the scene by the rescue crew, his right leg having been severed from his body below the knee, his left leg shattered and a multitude of internal injuries.

After grueling and intensive treatment, nine months later Steve was flag marshalling from a wheelchair in South Africa! Since then Steve has continued to marshal at events throughout Britain, whether he had to carry out the more sedate marshalling duties whilst he came to grips with his prosthetic leg or back to more active marshalling recently as he becomes more adept. This return to the hobby he and his wife hold so dear hasn't just returned a sense of joy and fulfillment to their own lives but it can be seen and felt throughout the marshalling world. The marshalling family has suffered losses and traumas and as Steve's case has highlighted when one of their own is affected they all rally round. Marshals have a special bond, some moreso than others as on more than one occasion I've heard circuit commentators announce with glee the engagement of Marshal A at Turn 2 to Marshal B at Turn 7!

From volunteering, marshals gain a sense of satisfaction, enjoyment and pride in vitally helping the sport they love. Along the way they are privy to a side of motor racing few experience and are part of a very special team.

© Rebecca Hobbs

(c)RH PR 2007