I talk to many of my peers up and down the Formula 1 pitlane on a regular basis and ever since day one of this season, the guys at McLaren have being buoyant about their chances.
They were all well aware there was a lot of hard work coming their way and that the beginning of the campaign would be particularly hard. They also, however, truly believed it would be short-term pain for long-term gain.
The history of McLaren and Honda together was used extensively as a gauge of future success and the excitement grew, both inside and outside the team.
The boys in the pitlane, whenever I spoke to them back in March and April, would be positive, despite the difficult start.
They'd tell me how they just needed to iron out a few teething troubles and the car would be a good one; how the concept was the right way to go; that it would all be worth the huge early effort.
I had no reason to disbelieve them. They were only telling me what they'd clearly been told internally and it appeared as though they all believed each other and in what they were doing.
Alonso and Button have tried to keep smiling © XPB |
Of course that's exactly how a team should function, all pulling in the same direction with clear objectives, but we're all now beginning to raise eyebrows, and even some of those crew members are starting to question whether the light at the end of their tunnel might actually be a big train coming the other way...
Jenson Button and Fernando Alonso are still just about managing to keep a smile for the cameras, but one can only imagine the dread they feel ahead of each Thursday media day in the paddock, let alone when they have to get into the car come Sunday.
The guys within the team, however, are beginning to show symptoms of frustration and even disconsolation after going backwards over the past few races.
I can fully appreciate the perception of misplaced trust creeping in after your team management have preached for so long about how a return to success is just around the corner, and yet recently even a small victory has never seemed further away.
I remember a few years ago, during pre-season testing, having a torrid time with our new car.
It was a car we'd all been told, with an inspiring and rousing speech in the factory, would be a title contender. That's the kind of prediction that gets people like me very excited. A WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP CONTENDER!
It turned out to be one of the biggest dogs I've ever had the misfortune of working on.
Summing up McLaren's season, its upgraded car was wiped out within half a lap in Austria © LAT |
Even so, for weeks management continued to issue press releases suggesting the problems were minor and that the mood remained positive within the team.
Well I can assure you the problems were not minor, the car was fundamentally flawed and poorly packaged and the mood within the team by the time we got to the first race was more of disaffection than anything resembling positivity.
I remember thinking why on Earth would the team management not just be honest and accept we'd got things wrong and had a major challenge on our hands, rather than trying to convince the world that beneath the slow laptimes and persistent unreliability lay a car that would at some point emerge to claim its rightful place at the front of the grid?
I recall thinking to myself, and openly discussing with my colleagues at the time, how we'd managed to not only get the design wrong, but never really looked like being able to react quickly or decisively enough to turn things around, in part because it took us so long to admit to ourselves, let alone the outside world, that things weren't quite as rosy as we'd convinced each other they were going to be.
I can't help wondering if McLaren is going through a similar process. The new relationship with Honda bares little or no resemblance to the one that delivered 15 wins from 16 races back in 1988.
Despite hopes of rekindling that spirit, the ways the two companies operate today are worlds apart, and that in itself is beginning to show cracks. Combined with a set of rules that prevent much in the way of testing and development, it means that the current situation is likely to remain for some time.
In my experience, it would be far easier for all concerned to accept that fact, be open and honest and manage expectations, particularly internally.
Red Bull top man Mateschitz hasn't been shy about his dissatisfaction with this season © XPB |
Just along pitlane, there's another group of people struggling to come to terms with their rapid descent from the top of the standings.
Like at McLaren, the team knows internally that its biggest handicap is its engine partner, which is struggling to give it enough power, energy recovery, drivability or even reliability.
Unlike at McLaren, though, Red Bull has been pretty open in criticising its partner very publicly. The blame for their dismal performance has been placed squarely at the Renault engine's door.
One of the things that strikes me about this is the strain it must put on the relationship between the team and the small crew from Renault who work inside the Red Bull garage on a day-to-day basis.
These guys operate very much as part of the team and it can become quite difficult when the two companies fall out, particularly so publicly.
At 'shop floor' level, the mechanics and engineers will remain friends, having worked together for years, but the guys wearing the yellow Renault shirts must be feeling an awkwardness and a strain as they brush past the likes of Christian Horner and Dietrich Mateschitz in the garage walkways.
The other thing I can't help but sympathise with is the situation the boys and girls inside the Red Bull team are facing right now, while their senior management and the man paying their salaries play out a war of words in the media.
I've been in scenarios where I've begun to doubt the security of my own job long-term and it's concerning. But to see your boss playing games and threatening to pull out of the sport because he's 'lost interest' in F1 must feel like you're nothing more than a throwaway chip in a high-stakes card game on the back of a Monaco superyacht.
I talk to many of my peers up and down the Formula 1 pitlane on a regular basis and ever since day one of this season, the guys at McLaren have being buoyant about their chances.
They were all well aware there was a lot of hard work coming their way and that the beginning of the campaign would be particularly hard. They also, however, truly believed it would be short-term pain for long-term gain.
The history of McLaren and Honda together was used extensively as a gauge of future success and the excitement grew, both inside and outside the team.
The boys in the pitlane, whenever I spoke to them back in March and April, would be positive, despite the difficult start.
They'd tell me how they just needed to iron out a few teething troubles and the car would be a good one; how the concept was the right way to go; that it would all be worth the huge early effort.
I had no reason to disbelieve them. They were only telling me what they'd clearly been told internally and it appeared as though they all believed each other and in what they were doing.
Alonso and Button have tried to keep smiling © XPB |
Of course that's exactly how a team should function, all pulling in the same direction with clear objectives, but we're all now beginning to raise eyebrows, and even some of those crew members are starting to question whether the light at the end of their tunnel might actually be a big train coming the other way...
Jenson Button and Fernando Alonso are still just about managing to keep a smile for the cameras, but one can only imagine the dread they feel ahead of each Thursday media day in the paddock, let alone when they have to get into the car come Sunday.
The guys within the team, however, are beginning to show symptoms of frustration and even disconsolation after going backwards over the past few races.
I can fully appreciate the perception of misplaced trust creeping in after your team management have preached for so long about how a return to success is just around the corner, and yet recently even a small victory has never seemed further away.
I remember a few years ago, during pre-season testing, having a torrid time with our new car.
It was a car we'd all been told, with an inspiring and rousing speech in the factory, would be a title contender. That's the kind of prediction that gets people like me very excited. A WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP CONTENDER!
It turned out to be one of the biggest dogs I've ever had the misfortune of working on.
Summing up McLaren's season, its upgraded car was wiped out within half a lap in Austria © LAT |
Even so, for weeks management continued to issue press releases suggesting the problems were minor and that the mood remained positive within the team.
Well I can assure you the problems were not minor, the car was fundamentally flawed and poorly packaged and the mood within the team by the time we got to the first race was more of disaffection than anything resembling positivity.
I remember thinking why on Earth would the team management not just be honest and accept we'd got things wrong and had a major challenge on our hands, rather than trying to convince the world that beneath the slow laptimes and persistent unreliability lay a car that would at some point emerge to claim its rightful place at the front of the grid?
I recall thinking to myself, and openly discussing with my colleagues at the time, how we'd managed to not only get the design wrong, but never really looked like being able to react quickly or decisively enough to turn things around, in part because it took us so long to admit to ourselves, let alone the outside world, that things weren't quite as rosy as we'd convinced each other they were going to be.
I can't help wondering if McLaren is going through a similar process. The new relationship with Honda bares little or no resemblance to the one that delivered 15 wins from 16 races back in 1988.
Despite hopes of rekindling that spirit, the ways the two companies operate today are worlds apart, and that in itself is beginning to show cracks. Combined with a set of rules that prevent much in the way of testing and development, it means that the current situation is likely to remain for some time.
In my experience, it would be far easier for all concerned to accept that fact, be open and honest and manage expectations, particularly internally.
Red Bull top man Mateschitz hasn't been shy about his dissatisfaction with this season © XPB |
Just along pitlane, there's another group of people struggling to come to terms with their rapid descent from the top of the standings.
Like at McLaren, the team knows internally that its biggest handicap is its engine partner, which is struggling to give it enough power, energy recovery, drivability or even reliability.
Unlike at McLaren, though, Red Bull has been pretty open in criticising its partner very publicly. The blame for their dismal performance has been placed squarely at the Renault engine's door.
One of the things that strikes me about this is the strain it must put on the relationship between the team and the small crew from Renault who work inside the Red Bull garage on a day-to-day basis.
These guys operate very much as part of the team and it can become quite difficult when the two companies fall out, particularly so publicly.
At 'shop floor' level, the mechanics and engineers will remain friends, having worked together for years, but the guys wearing the yellow Renault shirts must be feeling an awkwardness and a strain as they brush past the likes of Christian Horner and Dietrich Mateschitz in the garage walkways.
The other thing I can't help but sympathise with is the situation the boys and girls inside the Red Bull team are facing right now, while their senior management and the man paying their salaries play out a war of words in the media.
I've been in scenarios where I've begun to doubt the security of my own job long-term and it's concerning. But to see your boss playing games and threatening to pull out of the sport because he's 'lost interest' in F1 must feel like you're nothing more than a throwaway chip in a high-stakes card game on the back of a Monaco superyacht.