for those who don't know/care, Formula One is the absolute pinnacle of motorsport, a technological showcase featuring ethereal machines piloted by the world's most elite drivers. much like soccer, it's a sporting phenomenon that's wildly popular everywhere but the U.S.
this weekend saw F1 history as McLaren-Mercedes rookie driver Lewis Hamilton, a 22-year old Briton of mixed race, took the vic at the Grand Prix du Canada in Montreal. it was the first time a brown-skinned person had won a Grand Prix event.
Tiger Woods comparisons are being bandied about, which is at least somewhat justified. in six races, Hamilton's finished no worse than 3rd. quite simply, he's dominating.
surely i'm happy for the dude, both inside and outside the context of race. yet in the wake of his win, something did strike a chord with me. listening to BBC World's sports recap, much of the talk was centered around Hamilton's epic win. along with that, a good amount of the conversation also focused on how articulate and personable and well-spoken he was.
hearing all this white laudation of his nicely packaged and easily consumable manner made me kinda wish he looked and sounded a bit more like say, Dizzee Rascal, with the style sense of Ali G thrown in for kicks. see how much cats love him then. shift the paradigm a bit.
because believe it or not, calling me/lewis hamilton/barack obama/etc. articulate or well-spoken is less of a compliment than you think.
if you don't believe me, see Chris Rock's classic stand up "Bring The Pain." like everything else, it's on YouTube.
word.
