Eric Silbermann's Austrian Grumpy preview

Our resident grumpy old git has definitely lost the plot this week, as he claims to have seen a gorilla at the Red Bull Ring. Other animals, dead or alive also seem to be part of the story of this race.

Flogging a dead horse – it’s a very good metaphor for chasing a lost cause, but here in Austria they’ve never tired of flogging a dead calf or pig – battering the meat into a thin tasteless patty – in order to cook the same bloody meal every day. Yes, the thing that annoys me most about this weekend’s race venue is that I always leave Austria with a bad case of RSI; not so much Repetitive Strain Injury as Repetitive Schnitzel Ingestion.

Hopefully I can avoid the dreaded breadcrumbed delicacy as much as possible, that and the inevitable “salad” that comes with it. At least the English and the Germans realised years ago that their food culture was dire and adopted other cuisines, even if in Germany that means having pizza every night, but in Austria they just won’t admit anything’s wrong, a trait the citizens adopt in all areas of life, something that has been well documented over many decades.

It’s often mentioned that the first Austrian GP was held at a nearby airfield. That’s just a further irritation when you consider how long it takes to drive to Spielberg from any airport. The mythical “two-hour drive from Vienna” might one day be true when they stop digging up most of the motorway on the way down. It’s as annoying as flying to London with a budget airline and discovering that London-Southend and London-Luton are actually nowhere near the UK capital at all.

Once you get here, accommodation is certainly quaint, although I’m glad to have been promoted to an attic room in this the modern era of the race, whereas in the past, myself and a colleague often found ourselves in a basement, presumably considered an honour as these areas of the house are usually reserved for family members. Back in the late ’80s I used to stay “chez l’habitant” with Frau Kuckelmann, who was a cheerful soul much like her ancestors who featured in numerous photos dotted around the place, wearing very smart military uniforms bearing an old Indian religious symbol. Unfortunately, my room – did I mention it was in the basement? – was rather damp and so I always seemed to catch a cold, thus reminding me of that most famous Austrian story, turned into a musical, “The Sound of Mucous.”

What’s good about this race? The track is just the D’s Bs, even if the D has actually had most of its Bs removed for elf ‘n safety reasons, because we must protect our elves.

The natural bowl in the Styrian mountains creates one of the most atmospheric venues on the calendar and Red Bull did a tasteful job of modernising the place, so that last year’s return was a glorious weekend and the standout event of the year.

Just like the last venue in Montreal, this track is famous for fauna invading the track. However, in this part of the world we’re not talking wussy groundhogs or seagulls. No siree Bob, we’re talking full sized herbivores such as deer and gorillas.

Let’s deal with the latter first: it was back in 1975, when Vittorio Brambilla took his one and only F1 win. Known as the Monza Gorilla, the Italian actually crashed as he took the chequered flag, at the end of a race, which was held in the pouring rain. Years later they made a film about it, oddly starring Sigourney Weaver, called “Gorillas in the Mist.”

In 1987, a young buck decided to end it all during practice, wiping out most of Stefan Johannson’s McLaren

As for the dead deer, clearly suicidal having just been told what happens in the film “Bambi,” a young buck decided to end it all during practice, wiping out most of Stefan Johannson’s McLaren. The heroic Swede went on to finish seventh on Sunday, racing with a broken rib. I must ask him if he dined on venison that night. That was in 1987, when another driver raced with an injury, as Nigel Mansell had a wisdom tooth extracted earlier in the week, proudly showing off the offending piece of ivory wrapped in a hankie.

Years later, Juan Pablo Montoya had an interesting chat over the radio with his team about Austrian fauna. His engineer told him there was an animal on track, a deer in fact. “Oh dear…” Montoya joked. “That’s like a horse with horns,” explained the engineer, sadly missing the Colombian’s humour. Montoya still had a chuckle to himself, regardless.

The risks were greater then of course and, for proof of that, you need look no further than two of our Austrian paddock regulars, Niki Lauda and Dr Helmut Marko. The former would fail to pass scrutineering for a classic car race on the grounds he doesn’t have sufficient original parts, while the latter lost an eye in the days when helmet visors were made of cling film. The good doctor has a nice dry sense of humour and had the decency to laugh when, after asking me if I got discount at the barber’s thanks to my lack of hair, I retorted by enquiring if he got 50% off at the opticians.

Brambilla’s win, on his F1 debut, definitely ranks as a great pub quiz question and other Austrian GPs have provided similarly unexpected results. For example, as we await the return of the stars ‘n stripes on the grid in the form of Haas next year, it’s worth recalling that, the last time an American-entered team won here was when John Watson was first across the line in a Penske back in 1976. The hirsute Irishman had to shave his beard off afterwards as part of a bet with Roger Penske.

And who could forget the scandal-hit 2002 race, when Ferrari ordered Rubens Barrichello to move over to let Michael Schumacher win? It was the arrogant way the team handled the situation that really riled everyone at the time, but I can’t help thinking that if it had happened today, in more cynical times, it wouldn’t cause such a song and dance.

And speaking of song and dance, thank you Red Bull for putting on a great show here at your home race, but please, please, please can you stop the Oompah brass bands playing outside the front of the Media Centre?

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