Surviving to Drive: A Year Inside Formula 1

by Guenther Steiner

How the world managed without me before I was born I have no foking idea.

I know I’m not everyone’s cup of tea but I’m actually OK with who I am. If you don’t like it, tough shit.

It can get a bit incestuous in motorsport sometimes, but as long as we’re not breeding with each other, who foking cares?

If I am not panicking about something at this time of year then I know that something is wrong, and I’m panicking a lot at the moment.

These days the demeanour of a rally driver is far more in tune with an F1 driver. Primarily because they’re well looked after and everything around them is organized. They’re still fruitcakes, generally. It’s just a requirement of the job. In Formula 1 you have to be very fit and in rally you have to be slightly mad.

The two things that every adult has in common is an opinion and an arsehole and when the two meet, bullshit suddenly appears.

The whole thing is what people these days call a very ‘fluid situation’, which basically means that nobody knows shit about what’s going on. I hear it all the time. It’s trendy these days.

Unlike the other team principals, I’ve been involved in recruiting every member of staff we have on our team. They trust me and we’re like a family. So what if it’s the Addams Family?

The two things I’m good at other than talking bullshit all the time are delivering bad news and persuading people to say yes. That’s my entire skillset. In fact, if I ever have to look for another job I’ll put it on my résumé. Name: Guenther Steiner Date of birth: A foking long time ago Skills: Bullshit, bad news, intense persuasion

What the hell is happening to Bernie? I’ve just seen an interview with him on TV and after being asked if he was still friends with Putin he said he’d take a bullet for him. What the hell?! He then said that Vladimir Putin was a first-class person. You’re a ninety-one-year-old billionaire, Bernie. For God’s sake go and buy an island or something.

With regards to the communication within Haas, there are three steps: we discuss it, we decide that I am right, and then we carry on.

When people ask me to speak for forty-five minutes I usually offer them an hour and forty-five, on the understanding that they just let me talk my usual bullshit. That’s what I excel at and if you gave me enough notice I could probably do my own festival. Guentherstock! What I’m not very good at is being given specific subjects. Well, I am, but only when I remember to read the foking email telling me about it.

I went out for a meal last night and I was approached by two American guys from New York. ‘Hey, Guenther,’ they said. ‘Could we get a selfie with you?’ ‘Sure, guys,’ I said. ‘I take it you are here for the Grand Prix?’ ‘Fok, no,’ they said. ‘We’re here for the sex and drugs!’ At least they were honest.

Let me dispel a little myth for you. People think that life on the pit wall is all data, strategy and concentration. That’s not concentration. It’s boredom! Ayao and Pete Crolla have the attention spans of a foking three-year-old, so after a few laps they’ll start talking about what they’re having for dinner or which bar they are going to. It’s the same all over the pit lane. Fred talks about France all the foking time and Toto talks about how much money he’s made since he sat down. And don’t be taken in by all the stern and concerned faces. If somebody on a pit wall looks like that it’s because they need the toilet and are trying to hold it in.