The news
spread like a brushfire through the German media on Friday morning: Mercedes
had fired their legendary Formula One driver, Michael Schumacher. Well, to be
completely accurate, the reports were that they would not be renewing his
contract beyond the end of this season, which amounts to more or less the same
thing. Therefore the chances are good that, at the age of forty three,
Schumacher will be retiring for the second time from the first division of
motor racing – this time for good.
So what?
Another overpaid top sportsman finally quits. Like Michael Jordan, Zinedine
Zidane, Carl Lewis, David Beckham, and all the others. They entertained and
were idolised by hundreds of millions, earned hundreds of millions and then
rode off into the sunset, turning up occasionally as experts or “celebrities”
on TV, their doings (particularly if there was even a whiff of scandal about
them) being breathlessly reported in illustrated magazines and the more
sensationalist of newspapers and (increasingly) web-sites. Big deal.
And the
same is largely true of Schumacher. In 2010, one source
estimated his net worth at around 830 million US dollars. That was the year he
came back to Formula One after three years in retirement, Mercedes reportedly
paying him around 30 million US$ annually to do so (not including what he earns
from endorsements).
The
argument often made with regards to the insane amounts earned by top sportsmen
is that – in terms of returns – they are actually worth it, earning through
their success much larger sums (through sponsorships, advertising value,
TV-rights – especially TV-rights) for
those who are actually paying them their millions. The irony about Schumacher
is that success has eluded him and his Mercedes paymasters for the past three
years; the best he has achieved in that period is one third place in a Grand Prix. 90 million dollars plus for that
kind of performance? Nice work, if you can get it.
But maybe I
shouldn’t be so small minded. Formula One is a global business where the
millions are simply sloshing around, and Bernie Ecclestone, the geriatric Andy
Warhol lookalike who actually owns the whole circus, is much richer than Schumacher. Economically rising and wannabe prestige-hungry
countries like India, Russia, Turkey
and Bahrain
(to mention but a few) are all spending millions on purpose-built circuits just
to attract this circus for an annual visit. They are also prepared – according
to most reports – to pay Mr. Ecclestone handsomely for the privilege. And if
there are human-rights or other such issues (as, most famously, in Bahrain
recently), well, that kind of thing doesn’t really bother Bernie. Sport is
sport and politics is politics and, hey folks, the show must go on. Bernie has
been known to express some rather strange political views (about not everything
being old Adolf’s fault, for instance) but then, there may be the onset of some
slight senility here. His comrade in arms for much of his career, Max Mosley
(boss of the FIA, the sporting body responsible for Fomula One), had the
dubious distinction of being the son of the old British fascist, Sir Oswald
Mosley – but then, we can’t choose our parents, can we?
Schumacher
– to be fair to him – doesn’t really seem to be driven by greed; not as much as
many of the others involved in his business/sport at any rate. He is quite a
generous philanthropist, most famously donating $ 10 million in the wake of the
Indian Ocean Tsunami/Earthquake of 2004. On the other hand, he moved his main
residence from Germany to Switzerland,
apparently for tax purposes. But then, a reluctance to pay taxes on their
massive earnings in their native countries is a characteristic he shares with
many of his racing colleagues, quite a few of whom prefer Monte Carlo as their place of residence. And
from the beginning of his career up to a few years ago he was managed by the
notorious, larger-than-life Willi Weber, a German impresario with a tendency to
occasionally questionable business practices and a sharp eye for the best deal
in every conceivable situation. Weber discovered the young Schumacher, gambling
on his talent and bankrolling his entrance into Formula One in 1991 in return
for a fifth of all Schumacher’s earnings for the next ten years, thus gaining
him the nickname “Mr. Twenty Percent.” That deal gave Weber a powerful
incentive to maximally market his client in every conceivable way, and he was
diligent indeed.
No, no, no! I could easily carry on in this vein for
the rest of the essay, the slightly supercilious tone of the
university-educated, left-leaning, eco-conscious, culture-vulture,
politically-correct intellectual I suppose I am, doing the usual condescending
deconstruction of one of the favourite sports of the shallow, media-conned
masses. This kind of thing practically writes itself. I could sneer about all
the things that irritate me about Michael Schumacher, particularly his
deification by so many ordinary German men, the kind who read the Bild newspaper, pin up Playboy
centrefolds in their places of work, wash their cars every Saturday, go to
Majorca with their mates from the bowling-club for a long weekend of boozing
and tail-chasing every year, and dream of driving expensive cars with
three-pointed stars or blue and white badges. Let me try another approach …
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| Benz Patent Motorwagen 1885 |
Germans
have a particular fascination with motor cars. Although there were many people
working on the concept of the “horseless carriage” in the second half of the 19th
Century, it is generally agreed that the inventor of the automobile was the
German Karl Benz, who took out a patent for it in 1886. Many of the other
significant names working in the area were also German, Gottlieb Daimler and
Rudolf Diesel, for instance. So from the very beginning there has been a deep connection
between Germans and the automobile, something they themselves are well
conscious of, frequently calling the car “des
Deutschen liebstes Kind / the
German’s favourite child.”
The
argument I am developing here may be contradicted by many Americans, who can
justifiably mention the central role the automobile has played in American
consciousness for a hundred years, referring to Buicks and Chevrolets, Pontiacs
and Chryslers and pointing out that Henry Ford was mass-producing Model Ts
decades before Adolf Hitler ordered Ferdinand Porsche to design a “Peoples’
Car” / Volkswagen. And there is, of
course, much truth in this.
However, I
would contend that the essential difference between Americans and Germans in
this regard is that the American fascination is fundamentally that with the road, while the German obsession is with
the car itself. Both have to do with
mobility, of course, but the meme of the road,
as central to the understanding of the American psyche, goes far beyond the
means of transportation to encompass all sorts of themes like freedom,
frontier, adventure, leaving it all behind, a whole way of life and
consciousness. The German preoccupation with the car has more to do with the object itself; its possibilities, its
design, its engineering, speed and comfort. The car as a symbol of … status,
power, even freedom.
For many
Germans, the car itself quickly becomes an object of obsession, almost a
fetish. While the dusty, battered pick-up is one of the cultural icons of a
particular American rugged identity, the idea of driving a dirty, dinged car is
almost physically painful to most German motorists. The following ad,
highlighting one of the differences between the French and the Germans,
illustrates the point I am trying to make very well:
For the
typical German male, his car is one of his most treasured possessions. It is
carefully looked after, regularly serviced, the smallest defect is immediately
taken care of, and it is washed, waxed and polished regularly (traditionally on
Saturdays, though for environmental reasons the private washing of cars is
today generally prohibited). Even the smallest, most insignificant scrape
between two cars will, in Germany, immediately lead to the police being called
(so that questions of liability can be cleared up immediately, in case of
possible dispute), where everywhere else people are quite happy to simply
exchange insurance numbers. Though in many respects I have become completely
“Germanised” after twenty six years in this country, in this case I am, and
will remain, obstinately foreign; I regard an automobile as nothing more than a
comfortable means of conveyance from A to B and still do not understand why
nearly all modern cars are sold with bumpers painted the same colour as the
rest of the vehicle.
While I
don’t want to get into sexism or genderism here, I think it is generally
accepted that an interest in the “mechanics” of things is more prevalent among
the male of the species. Combine this with a fascination for speed, and a
strong competitive instinct (also more typical masculine preoccupations) and
you start to understand the seemingly mindless pleasure men derive from
watching cars driving at speed around in circles, or – even better – driving
them themselves.
Almost
uniquely, the Germans – normally so uptight and controlling about things –
actually allow everyone with a driving licence the possibility to live this out
to an extent. On the German Autobahns there
is no speed-limit, so that you can actually personally check out the top speed
specifications the manufacturer claims for your car. Of course, large parts of
the motorways do have speed limits
for all sorts of safety reasons, but there are also enough long straight
stretches where you can really let it rip. Despite a general acceptance of all
sorts of “green” consciousness by Germans, none of the major political parties
(with the obvious exception of the Greens) are prepared to put general Autobahn speed-limits into their
programmes – it’s an absolute vote killer. And let me tell you, there is
something viscerally very satisfying
about driving at well over a hundred miles an hour, your concentration
completely on what you are doing – and fuck
the fact that you’re burning twenty per cent more fuel than you would be by
driving more sedately. Need for speed, yeah!
But, of
course, to do this at the really top speeds possible, in competition with
others, demands a level of skills very few of us have, a willingness to risk
one’s life continually in order to win, and the kind of motorised technology
beyond the financial possibilities of most of us. Hence motor racing.
And then
there’s that other thing, the thing we don’t like to admit to, that deeper
truth which comes from that more savage, dark, primitive part of our nature.
The thing that set our ancestors howling on the stands of the Roman
gladiatorial arenas, hissing at medieval beheadings, or heretic or witch
burnings, looking on with grim, self-righteous approval at 19th
Century public hangings. That part of us which isn’t just appreciating the
speed of the competitors, their skills in overtaking opponents, the clever
strategy of a pit-stop judged just right. The cruel, bloodthirsty part of us
which is just waiting for – to be honest, hoping
for – the crash. Wreckage and
maybe even blood and body parts flying all over the place. Burn, baby, burn!
Ok, so what about Schumacher? Get on with it!
A
combination of circumstances can sometimes give rise to a situation where a
figure of general public interest may become something more than this; an avatar of the hopes and aspirations of a
whole group or nation. The most complete and perfect way to this kind of
transformation comes through sudden, usually (though not always) violent death.
Examples of this kind of apotheosis are Elvis, John Lennon and, of course,
Princess Diana. But it happens to the living too, like a kind of aura which
comes over them and lets them shine in an almost inhuman way for particular
groups, nations or transnational groups for a while. It happened to Bob Dylan
in the early sixties, and the Beatles soon after that. Muhammad Ali was one, so
was Michael Jordan. Bob Marley (already before his death in his native Jamaica, after
it worldwide).
During the
1990s Michael Schumacher’s popularity grew steadily in his native Germany,
particularly after he won the World Championships in 1994 and 1995. In the 1996
season he moved to Ferrari and over the next few years worked with the Italian
team to establish the combination of the best driver in the best car in Formula
One. The result was an unprecedented period from 2000 to 2004, when Schumacher was
World Champion for five years in a row.
This was
the period when Schumacher became immortal for his German fans and an icon of
the hopes and dreams of millions of German men. Ordinary men, what you might
call “blue-collar” men.
At the end
of the last century, many of the traditional self-defining characteristics of
the ordinary German blue-collar male were coming under pressure. The increasing
mainstream acceptance of much of the feminist agenda had much to do with this
(as in the rest of the developed world), but there were also other,
specifically German factors. The economic and social pressures caused by
reunification were starting to make themselves felt, as were the effects of
increasing globalisation. Immigrants were making up an ever more visible part
of the human landscape.
The old
social consensus of the Bonner Republik was
in flux, the model according to which anyone prepared to work hard would find a
job, be able to live a decent live with a modicum of comfort with his family
and look forward to a happy old age, backed up by a secure contributory state
pension. Tax money was flowing in billions into the former GDR, leaving less
for the old West Germany,
semi-skilled jobs were melting away, wandering into Eastern Europe or Asia where wage-costs were much lower. The old, relaxed,
certain world of the work place was coming more under the turbo pressure of
performance maximisation and targets, rationalisation, increased continual
training and expertise requirements. Brain trumped brawn everywhere and it was
the young business graduates with their suits and computers who seemed to be
taking control of everything.
But against
all this, there was Schumi, the kid
from an ordinary working-class family, without privilege and attitude (or even
much formal education), who wouldn’t even had had enough money and influence to
break into the elite super-rich world of Formula One, despite his talent, if
Willi Weber hadn’t financed him. But he did
break into it and showed the world what an ordinary German man, possessing
the characteristics of an ordinary German man, the ability to work hard, be
dependable, and know motors, could do.
He was the typical kid next door and allowed the fantasy that – had Lady Luck
just tossed the dice a little differently – you or me could have done this as
well. After all, every German man is secretly convinced that he too is an excellent
driver. Not to deny, of course, that Unser
Michael / our Michael is
supremely talented, a consummate sportsman, and deserves every million he
earns.
Unser Michael. For a particular segment of Germans,
Schumacher became an embodiment of Everyman,
a universal figure of identification. Even in the name the connection was
there, the Deutscher Michel
being a personified representation of ordinary Germanness, like John Bull
or Joe Bloggs in the UK, or
Joe Sixpack in the USA.
All of this cannily encouraged by Weber’s comprehensive marketing and the fact
that RTL, the most popular private TV channel in Germany and one whose strategy was
to broadcast programmes for the “ordinary” German with a large dollop of naked
tits, sensationalist reporting, Jerry Springer-like talk shows, and docu-soaps,
had the franchise for Formula One. And it was this identification which turned
Schumi into a figure of adulation; important enough to get millions of German
men up before 6.00 a.m. on a Sunday morning to watch him race live in the
Australian or Japanese Grand Prix. And win.
Such avatar
phenomena are finite. Dylan gradually lost his after his controversial decision
to go electric and Schumacher’s slowly faded after his (first) retirement in
late 2006. The comeback was always going to be a risky business – of all such
icons, Muhammad Ali was the only one who can be said to have managed it, and
Ali was a special case because his retirement was forced at such a young age.
And (dare I say it?) because his whole personality and character are
exceptional in a way that Schumacher’s are not.
Of course, all this could just be pseudo-intellectual
bullshit and Michael Schumacher may still really be the latest incarnation of
Jesus Christ. Whatever, I still don’t like the lantern-jawed bastard!
Pictures retrieved from:
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