Interview With Max Mosley

"I had my Sunday all mapped out," Max Mosley says as he remembers his role in the fiasco of the US grand prix last week when only six out of 20 cars raced in Indianapolis.

"I was in Monaco and I had two really interesting books to read. One is called The Wisdom Of Crowds - which I found particularly fascinating. It got me thinking: if all these thousands of people keep saying I'm a tosser, then maybe they're actually right? So I planned a lovely long lunch and a good read before watching the race on television. Instead I got all this aggravation."

Mosley, the urbane 65-year-old president of the FIA and the man who runs formula one with his 74-year-old ally Bernie Ecclestone, shrugs at that disruption of his perfect Sunday. Despite the bizarre sight of 14 cars disappearing from the track after a token warm-up lap in what was one of the most embarrassing debacles in formula one history, Mosley has endured worse.

"It was far harder when [Ayrton] Senna got killed. When something like this happens, it can be put right. It's just a question of who puts it right."

Yet Mosley's 14-year reign has become increasingly troubled. His vicious but petty squabbling with the teams now overshadows the sport. "I like a quiet life as much as anyone," he protests, "but I react badly to being pushed around. It's not my nature to accept it. In a situation like Indianapolis I'm not going to step aside."

With the furious teams, bar Ferrari, on one side and an intransigent Mosley on the other end of a telephone line in Monaco, the stand-off could not be resolved. Mosley absorbed the blame as the seven teams running on Michelin tyres - which the company itself had stressed were not fit to race around the banked turn 13 of the famous old circuit - pulled into the pits. Beer cans and water bottles were hurled at the six remaining cars as Ferrari, Jordan and Minardi lapped the empty track on their unaffected Bridgestone tyres. The future of grand prix racing in the US is now in serious jeopardy.

"The teams were desperate to race," Sir Frank Williams insisted. "We wanted to entertain the crowds." Paul Stoddart, despite his Minardis earning points for the first time in three years, described the damage to formula one as "immeasurable...in any other business there'd be calls for the person who did this to resign. The cure was there and it wasn't taken up by [Mosley]."

"Stoddart is a sad case," Mosley snorts. "I helped him tremendously when the other teams were trying to steal his money. But now my reaction is that he's obviously forgotten to take his medication."

Stoddart has intensified his demand for Mosley's resignation and released a personal account of events in Indianapolis. He reveals that Ecclestone reached a compromise with the track owner Tony George and all the teams, besides Ferrari, to add a temporary chicane in order to slow the cars.

"The teams had gone into headless chicken mode," Mosley says. "One of their suggestions - made more after the event - was that everyone should run with the chicane and only the Bridgestone teams would score points. Bernie would've proy's 14-year reign has become increasingly troubled. His vicious but petty squabbling with the teams now overshadows the sport. "I like a quiet life as much as anyone," he protests, "but I react badly to being pushed around. It's not my nature to accept it. In a situation like Indianapolis I'm not going to step aside."

With the furious teams, bar Ferrari, on one side and an intransigent Mosley on the other end of a telephone line in Monaco, the stand-off could not be resolved. Mosley absorbed the blame as the seven teams running on Michelin tyres - which the company itself had stressed were not fit to race around the banked turn 13 of the famous old circuit - pulled into the pits. Beer cans and water bottles were hurled at the six remaining cars as Ferrari, Jordan and Minardi lapped the empty track on their unaffected Bridgestone tyres. The future of grand prix racing in the US is now in serious jeopardy.

"The teams were misperate to race," Sir Frank Williams insisted. "We wanted to entertain the crowds." Paul Stoddart, despite his Minardis earning points for the first time in three years, described the damage to formula one as "immeasurable...in any other business there'd be calls for the person who did this to resign. The cure was there and it wasn't taken up by [Mosley]."

"Stoddart is a sad case," Mosley snorts. "I helped him tremendously when the other teams were trying to steal his money. But now my reaction is that he's obviously forgotten to take his medI was only confident the Ferraris would go out. I wasn't confident about Jordan and Minardi. But I hoped some would race using the pit-lane option. Only on the warm-up lap did I get a call saying they were probably going to pull in. They were incredibly stupid because there are no winners in a situation like this - except the American lawyers. It was crazy. I felt intense irritation because I also suspected the tyre problem was not as grave as they represented. I felt the situation had been created artificially and deliberately."

Mosley glosses over that controversiit's the FIA and they think it should be the teams. When I was one of them I thought the same. But the governing body will always win. So I'm not concerned if they take an antagonistic line. What are they going to do? If they go on strike, they're simply cutting off their nose to spite their face. That won't happen."

The threat of a breakaway championship is also dismissed. "Only those who don't understand the system believe they can do it - and that's only two or three team principals. The rest understand that the governing body has to control the sport; it doesn't have to be me personally. If they'd just kept quiet, I would've probably gone already."

Mosley sighs extravagantly. "There are times when I'm utterly fed up. All the time in this job you're trying to solve other people's problems. You sit in an office in Monaco slaving away and you could be on the beach or having a nice lunch.from the teams."

It is difficult to believe that any ban will be imposed - as Mosley says, "even if I want to do it, the other 20 members [of the disciplinary council] are unlikely to do so." A more probable outcome is an escalation of raw conflict while the FIA announces another confusing ruling.

Even before Indianapolis, Stoddart had warned: "We're heading to the demise of F1...through too much pig-headed arrogance in all quarters." Williams agreed that "the prevailing atmosphere stinks. It's very unhealthy." His colleague Patrick Head sneered, "You can see [Mosley] detests all the team principals."

"It's completely mad, that," Mosley chortles of Head's claim. "Frank's statement, meanwhile, was made after a bad morning. I subsequently ran into him at Monaco and had a friendly chat. Frank and I go back to 1967; I'm one of 40 men who've actually raced for Frank Williams. Ron Dennis and I also go back 35 years. There was a slight frisson between us at Monaco but we've settled that.

"For me it's not personal. There is only animosity over who should run the sport. On the one hand I'm saying it's the FIA and they think it should be the teams. When I was one of them I thought the same. But the governing body will always win. So I'm not concerned if they take an antagonistic line. What are they going to do? If they go on strike, they're simply cutting off their nose to spite their face. That won't happen."

The threat of a breakaway championship is also dismissed. "Only those who don't understand the system believe they can do it - and that's only two or three team principals. The rest understand that the governing body has to control the sport; it doesn't have to be me personally. If they'd just kept quiet, I would've probably gone already."

Mosley sighs extravagantly. "There are times when I'm utterly fed up. All the time in this job you're trying to solve other people's problems. You sit in an office in Monaco slaving away and you could be on the beach or having a nice lunch. It's crazy."

The chances of him stepping down soon are remote. Although he will almost certainly seek re-election this October, Mosley smiles wryly. "If everything got sorted very quickly, I would have serious thoughts about not going on."

Yet the prospect of peace breaking out is, as another warmonger in Don King likes to quip, "slim and none - and slim just left town". Mosley nods his agreement.

"If you're in charge you can never walk away from a mess - even if you didn't create it. People might think this situation is like the Balkans, Northern Ireland or Palestine. Each side believes they're absolutely right - and each side has its share of lovely people. So it's hard to resolve. But this is not at all like that. This is about sport rather than politics: in sport you have to follow the rules."

When asked if he truly believes he is not responsible for any part of the "mess", Mosley laughs. "If you put your question like that and I say it's caused totally by the other side it makes me look unreasonable. But..."

His pause is so mischievous that there seems no option but to finish his sentence for him. "It's all their fault?"

"Yes," Mosley says, "I cannot escape that thought."

He might have to wait for the "quiet Sunday" he supposedly craves but the certainty of another intense battle on Wednesday spreads a sense of calm through Mosley. Asked what message he has for anyone concerned about the future of formula one, he reaches for a voice which is almost hilarious in its faux sincerity.

Mosley sounds like an announcer at Euston Station who cannot quite hide the pleasure he takes in revealing that there are yet more leaves on the line and trouble on the track ahead. "Sorry about all this," he booms, "but we are doing our utmost to get it sorted out. Honest."