Why I Just Can't Support Lewis Hamilton
As a British sports fan, and an avid one at that, the high-flying exploits of Lewis Hamilton should be a great source of pride and excitement for me.
Yet, as Hamilton stands on the verge of winning Formula 1’s World Drivers Championship for the first time, I feel nothing.
Absolutely nothing. And it troubles me.
Now, don’t jump to conclusions, I am a huge fan of Formula 1—and have been for a long time. My love of the sport started way back in 1993, and quickly led to my fervent support for Damon Hill—the last Brit to win the World Drivers Championship, in 1996.
I was delighted to see Hill win the title—as a youngster he truly was my sporting hero. Ever since his retirement in 1999, I have searched for the next Englishman to transfer my affections too, with little success.
For the longest time, there were no viable candidates. Then a confident youngster with obvious talent burst onto the scene.
I was intrigued.
In short, Lewis Hamilton should have been Hill’s natural successor. On the surface he had all the qualities that drew me to the former Williams driver—charisma, focus, Englishness—and so much more.
You see, unlike Hill, it was glaringly obvious that Hamilton had the sort of driving ability that comes about so rarely in life—to the point that every breathtaking demonstration of it had to be savoured.
His performances in GP2, ones that persuaded Ron Dennis to put the young Briton into the 2007 Mclaren-Mercedes ahead of schedule, were absolutely stunning.
He pulled off outrageous manoeuvres with brazen regularity, some of which arguably only Ayrton Senna would have ever even considered. As he marched to the GP2 title, I was convinced I had found the new object of my affections.
Then he parked under the microscope of Formula 1, and everything changed.
Initially, Hamilton’s foray into the bright lights and scrutiny of Formula 1 was a successful one, as he immediately demonstrated his burgeoning talent. A run of consecutive podiums started and Hamilton-mania swept the country, reaching its peak as the Stevenage-native won his first Grand Prix in Montreal.
From that high point, however, things slowly began to fall apart. Hamilton began getting involved in ever-more spiteful confrontations with his own teammate, Fernando Alonso (of all people!), and then preceded to throw away the World Championship in a way completely unbecoming of a driver supposedly destined for greatness.
Above it all, however, along the way it seemed Hamilton had forgotten who he was, or where he had come from. Rather than acting like the rookie he was, and seeing his shot at the title as a bonus in a fantastic debut season, Hamilton got ahead of himself.
He seemed to deliberately anger Alonso, and began acting in a way more reminiscent of an arrogant Michael Schumacher than someone who was yet to really achieve anything in the sport.
The 2008 season has only seen things get worse, as Hamilton has continually pulled off dangerous overtaking stunts—and then attempted to pass off the complaints of his rivals as simply the petty actions of those envious of his ability.
In today’s Times, Matthew Syed writes about how “Sporting greatness beckons for young Britons who think nice guys finish last”, citing the rise of Hamilton and tennis star Andy Murray.
It makes for interesting reading.
In the article, Syed looks at “two of the most cutthroat predators in the sporting jungle” and examines how their character has led to noticeable unpopularity amongst their peers.
What Syed doesn’t touch on, however, is how unpopular it has made them amongst the general public—or, to be more specific, me.
For the Times this is not surprising, as the pro-Hamilton propaganda it espouses has almost become a running joke amongst the F1 fan fraternity. But that doesn’t mean the public dislike doesn’t exist.
Indeed, many of the reasons why Hamilton’s rivals don’t like the 23-year-old are the exact same reasons why I cannot support him.
He is arrogant, he is confrontational, he is selfish.
In short, he is an entirely un-British sportsman.
He has disputed rules that he has clearly broken, and turned his back on England for Switzerland at the first opportunity—just in order to save himself a few extra Euros.
And, perhaps most unforgivably (at least for a frustrated man of a similar age), Hamilton has been more than happy to be spotted out and about with a variety of different arm-candy.
Compared to Hill, the contrast just couldn’t be greater.
Tomorrow, round the idiosyncratic Interlagos circuit in Brazil, Hamilton will be aiming to complete his world championship dream—a target he has been working towards since he was barely old enough to confront Ron Dennis.
In many ways the situation is similar to that of Hill’s 12 years ago, at Suzuka in Japan. On that occasion I was transfixed by the TV, and wanted to see Hill win more than anything in my young life.
When Hill took the chequered flag, I felt his triumph, and I echoed Murray Walker’s proud sentiments.
It was an emotional event.
Tomorrow, however, there will be no such emotion. I will watch—of course I will—but not with any real attachment. And I doubt I will be alone.
Could Hamilton have reached this stage in his career if he had not been so single-minded? I’d like to think so, but at the end of day the question is irrelevant—Hamilton has long since chosen this path, regardless of the consequences.
Unable to support Hamilton, I will be equally unable to support Felipe Massa. The fact that the genial Brazilian acts more like an Englishman than the actual Englishman is just far too confusing for me to compute.
As a result, I will have no personal investment in proceedings—Hamilton’s nature has seen to that. Whatever the Times might suggest, surely many others will feel the same.
They say it is lonely at the top; Well, if he achieves his lifetime ambition tomorrow, Hamilton might begin to understand exactly what they mean.
Whether he will care or not, however, is a different matter.
If he doesn’t—well, I guess that’ll make at least two of us.
To read Adam Poole's really rather good response to this article, click here.

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