A blistering end to the year gave fans a worthy Formula One champion. If only the sport's governing body could be as adept, writes Justin Hynes
Is Kimi Räikkönen the Formula One world champion? That question just about sums up the 2007 season, a year in which some of the most thrilling racing in recent memory has been matched and often surpassed by the pointless legal tomfoolery of a sport seemingly determined to undermine any goodwill the most dramatic title fight in two decades might have earned.
The appeal by McLaren, against the judgment of the Interlagos stewards to let Sunday's final race result stand, once again means that instead of ending a season on an emotionally high note, having achieved dramatic closure, F1 will now drag the title through its own feudal court system, alienating anyone who might have tuned in to watch a great moment in sport.
It has been that way all season. From the interminable spying scandal, to the endless technical investigations, driver penalties, appeals and counter-appeals, Formula One has again shown itself to be a sport out of touch with its constituency. Like a Cold War dictatorship, its borders are closed to dissidents, its dogma brooks no criticism, and it wallows in stifling bureaucracy.
All of which is a shame, for the bit that did keep it interesting, the races, were often spectacular, and all of it was made possible by the arrival of a rookie who entered the arena as a makeweight and left as a genuine contender for years to come.
Lewis Hamilton's arrival has revitalised a sport threatening to settle into another era of single-driver dominance. Fernando Alonso's back-to-back titles had brought to an end the decade-long rule of Michael Schumacher, but as quickly as observers delighted in the young Spaniard's genius, so the same people began to lament the possibility that his move from Renault to a resurgent McLaren would lead to another spell in the doldrums.
Hamilton's arrival exploded that theory. From the moment he took his position on the podium at the opening race in Melbourne, the rookie showed he was there to challenge the received wisdom of how a debutant is supposed to behave. And in that lay the foundations of a compelling season-long story. Initially, Alonso patted his junior on the back. As long as Hamilton stayed behind him, things would be fine.
But while the Spaniard might have expected superior status from McLaren (as, he felt, was his due as a double champion), team boss Ron Dennis (a scrupulous adherent to notion of fair play) thought otherwise, and Hamilton was handed an equal opportunity to win. By mid-season and the Canadian GP, the scene of Hamilton's maiden win, Alonso was seething. "I've never felt comfortable in a British team with a British team-mate. We know the support goes to him," he fumed.
The battle between the two provided thrilling racing on track as they swapped wins and traded micro-seconds of pace. But behind them a stealthy challenge was being assembled, one which would, in a season of startling twists and turns, provide the ultimate sting in the tail.
When Kimi Räikkönen joined Ferrari this season, the expectation had been that the super-quick Finn could and should eclipse Alonso. After a difficult period at McLaren, Räikkönen was, at Ferrari, free to be his own man. In being that, however, it meant that Ferrari were either watching Räikkönen pummel the opposition into submission or sleepwalk his way to anonymous mid-order finishes. While Hamilton was racking up an amazing nine podiums from nine starts, Räikkönen took just five.
Three of those, though, were wins and the template was set. In those early months, Räikkönen drifted and disappeared from the title fight. When the teams arrived in France in July, it was his team-mate Felipe Massa who seemed in with a chance of challenging the dominant McLarens.
But then Räikkönen came alive again, notching back-to-back wins in France and Britain, seconds in Hungary and Turkey, and third in Italy. Then he won again, with a crushing display at Spa to give himself a real chance, an opportunity he would capitalise on with victory in China and ultimately convert (or at least so we currently believe) in Brazil.
For many, it was the perfect result. If the title had fallen to either McLaren driver, the victory would always be associated with the scent of illegality. The spy scandal had found McLaren guilty of using information gathered from Ferrari to better their car. For the offended Ferrari team, Räikkönen's title carries with it some sense of justice.
In any case, Hamilton's story is only beginning. The opening chapters have been a wonder to behold and there is surely more to come. For Alonso too. The Spaniard, cast in Britain as some kind of moustache-twirling Dick Dastardly figure, will surely depart McLaren and renew hostilities with the boy wonder from another quarter. But this time we may have other leading players.
The progress of BMW-Sauber puts it firmly in the frame for a 2008 title tilt. They have two clever drivers in Nick Heidfeld and Robert Kubica, and a canny and astute team behind them.
For the moment, though, we have a more than worthy champion. Räikkönen is "old school" F1, a throwback to the heady days when drivers partied and raced in the same cavalier style. He dismisses testing, won't use simulators, preferring to simply arrive and drive, and he races snowmobiles under the name of the legendary James Hunt. This is a champion who earlier in the year entered a powerboat race and turned up dressed as a gorilla in a bid to go unrecognised. Around this, he took six wins in a season supposedly set up for the better machinery of McLaren. Inferior machinery, a devil-may-care attitude to the ultra-prepared nature of modern F1, and a gorilla suit in the wardrobe. There couldn't be a better winner.