Canadian Grand Prix

Last year I went to my first golf tournament (USPGA) and today I was fortunate enough to attend the Canadian Grand Prix in Montreal, my first. The two events were for me both similar at one level, and utterly different at another.

The similarity? Both are clearly dreadful spectator sports - the TV viewer has the best seat in the house. The difference? It is hard to put into words how noisy the Grand Prix was - for some reason I didn't expect it (golf conversely is as peaceful a day out as can be imagined).

For two hours, you cannot speak (or at least get yourself heard) - it was clear that motor racing was an ideal venue for a date with a girl you like to look at, but who doesn't have much to say for herself (maybe that's why the track was full of gorgeous women with nothing between the ears).

I ended up quite enjoying the noise (with the worst of it earplugged out of course). It certainly appeals to a man's base instincts - it became rather hypnotic in the end, and being sat just shy of a bend ensured we heard the crisp screech of gears being changed down into it approximately a thousand times in 71 laps.

However, it is virtually impossible to work out what is actually happening in the race, despite the fact that we were fortunate enough to have TVs in close proximity. And then just when you had managed to work out that Alonso's blue and yellow car was the leader, something weird would happen like the appearance of a 'safety car' or else a pit stop would see a driver drop several places in the field only in some cases to reappear behind their team compatriot in an identical-looking car.

Ultimately it was an experience I was glad to have had, but it's definitely a sport where I find myself 'ticking the box' rather than eagerly awaiting ticket details for Indianapolis or Silverstone. It certainly doesn't lack passionate supporters however judging from the hordes of fans clad in team merchandise, though I suspect very few claimed they were "Red Bull fans because my father and his father was" given the team was only founded in 2004.

Our group was accompanied by a pair of passionate racing fans who were on hand to answer any questions that we had. The liveliest debate surrounded the extent to which the spectacle is truly a 'sport' or not. I came to the conclusion that it could only partly claim this title - it's really about engineering, though the advantage that say the Renault and Ferrari drivers have is only worthwhile if their drivers are willing to push their cars (and themselves) to the limit. It's probably not a sensible idea to suggest to any Brazilians for example that Ayrton Senna was not a sportman.

It would be nice to know whether Fernando Alonso is truly the best driver (as opposed to the recipient of the joint best car), but of course if they all were forced to drive identical machines, the sport wouldn't exist in the first place. Hence from my standpoint, the sport can surely only hold long-term appeal to engineering and motor fanatics for whom the real 'spectacle' is the fusion of technological advancement with drivers brave enough to realise it - indeed, the muted response to the chequered flag suggested that who ultimately won the race wasn't really the point.

What is clear however is that Bernie Ecclestone et al have done an amazing job of branding Formula One, and attracting the type of sponsors that fulfil the sport's wealthy fans' desires. The flipside of course was that the city was filled with enough wannabees, never-weres and trust fund recipients to ensure that New York Addick's proprietary 'W*nker Coefficient' reached an extremely high level of 3.43 (implies 3.43 times more w*nkers than would usually be expected from a random sample). Such levels are usually only recorded at Spurs home games and the Last Night of the Proms.