This weekend has been a true testament to the power of storytelling for me. I was lucky enough to get my rev head on and go to Melbourne to the Formula 1 season opener. Crowd record numbers are broken every year, the whole 4 days can be found on free-to-air TV and teachers are using it as an example in primary school lessons. The drivers have entered that level of fame where they are referred to by one name – Oscar, Carlos, Lewis and, of course, Max. Even those in the back stalls – the engineers, the CEOs, the reserves, the safety car driver, the parents, are famous.
As we wandered around Albert Park, stood in queues 50,000 people deep like dutiful little fans, and sat next to the same people race after race, everyone was talking about the drivers, not the cars. The Merch is in team colours, but the driver’s names are on them. T-shirts with drivers faces all over them, giant corflute driver’s heads were walking about and their names were being shouted from the grounds as the cars screamed past. Lewis and Charles might both drive for Ferrari, but we talk about Lewis and Charles. Formula 1 drivers and cars have become the equivalent of the fashion industry’s Haute Couture – they are the most glamorous, most expensive and have reached the highest of dizzying heights in their industry, and everything else seems a watered down version next to it.
How did it come to this? Where Dad Jo, who knows nothing about car manufacturing, and Mum Mary, who has absolutely no interest in dusty old car racing, are suddenly die-hard fans of Charles’ sense of humour and Fernado’s boogie when he wins?
Storytelling. The Netflix series Drive To Survive is now in it’s 7th season and it has brought the sport into households across the globe. Just as Matildas: The World at our Feet brought the national women’s soccer team into our loungerooms conveniently right before the Women’s World Cup so we were shouting single names like ‘Go Clare!’, ‘Stop them Ellie’, and ‘Boot it Courtney!’ at our TVs, so to has Drive to Survive done the same thing for Formula 1 racing. We are all upset when we watch the nice guys in the sport such as Danny-Ric and Carlos dropped by their car manufacturers – the injustice of it! We all get bored of Max winning time and again and take any opportunity to have a dig when he lets fly with his signature aggressive driving. We love Sir Lewis’ panache and experience – and his lovely dad slinging an arm around upset rookie Hadjar who found the wall. What car manufacturer?
The highest passion this weekend was for our Oscar. We were collectively furious at the McLaren team for telling him again to hold back and let his team-mate go ahead when young Oscar was the fastest driver. There was a 150,000-strong collective sucking in of breath when he spun out onto the grass and another collective cheer when he cleverly worked out how to get those slick tyres off wet grass (all I get when I’m bogged is teasing from my kids). Oh the drama!
But without Drive To Survive would we know Oscar’s a nice guy, has been a skilled driver since birth and his mum is a legend? No.
In the marketing days of old we would have a bio, and some nice photos of the drivers, perhaps an enticing headline, with the odd print and TV story. But with the intimate biographic storytelling used by marketers nowadays, particularly the format promoted by Netflix, we know what colour a Formula 1 drivers’ knickers are and the tantrum they’ll have if the ‘Monday’ ones are not clean for a Monday.
Nowadays have our hearts invested in a driver’s whole entire life – in fact, in the life of anyone, in any industry whose story we might come across. So powerful are these personal narratives being generated, the trials and tribulations on the world stage of these young Grand Prix drivers – some of whom are so young they can’t even drink the champagne they’re fizzing about on the winning podium – that we are almost more invested in them than we are our own. Which of course leads those 450,000 people who attended Albert Park across 3 days, to easily reach into their pocket and shell out $180 for an Oscar t-shirt, $95 for Carlos cap, and, hell yeah, I’ll have that Lewis jacket for $650 – make it two!
Ahh, the power of storytelling.
