Lewis Hamilton's police stop for burnout: the silly story of 'hoon-gate'

F1

Fifteen years ago, Lewis Hamilton performed a low-speed burnout in central Melbourne in front of cheering F1 fans... and two police officers. As McLaren's PR chief, Matt Bishop was in charge of dealing with the fallout of what became known as hoon-gate. He tells the inside story

Lewis Hamilton talks to media after being stopped by police for hooning at the 2010 Australian Grand Prix

Lewis Hamilton faces media the day after being stopped by police for 'hooning'

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Let’s flashback to the evening of Friday March 26, 2010, in Melbourne, which, given the 11-hour time difference between the UK and that part of south-eastern Australia, namely the state of Victoria, is now exactly 15 years ago to the day. I had just started the third season of what would be a decade-long stretch as McLaren’s comms/PR chief, and we were moderately but not exuberantly satisfied with the way in which our 2010 campaign had begun, in Bahrain, two weeks previously; for, although Jenson Button had qualified only eighth and had finished only seventh, Lewis Hamilton had qualified fourth and had finished third. A podium is a podium. Nonetheless, the fact that the old enemy, Ferrari, had delivered a one-two finish, Fernando Alonso first and Felipe Massa second, was ominous. Sebastian Vettel’s pole position for Red Bull was also a concern.

Friday practice at Albert Park was tricky to read that year. In FP1 Robert Kubica was fastest for Renault; second was Nico Rosberg for Mercedes, but that team was not yet close to being the Formula 1 powerhouse that it would later become; Button was third; Hamilton was seventh. In FP2 Lewis put things right, topping the time sheets, and Jenson was second-quickest. Better still, the Ferraris were 15th (Alonso) and 17th (Massa). So it was that we McLarenites left the circuit on Friday evening with a spring in our steps.

Three days before, on the Tuesday, I had met a man called Angel Bautista in a bar in downtown Melbourne, and we had seen each other every evening since then. He is now my husband, but that is another story. Anyway, he and I had arranged to meet for dinner on the Friday at a beautiful Chinese restaurant overlooking the Yarra River, and as we were eating we engaged in carefree and animated conversation. After we had finished our main courses, Angel popped outside for a cigarette, and, as we all do when left alone at a restaurant table, I idly reached for my mobile phone, which was a clunky old Blackberry in those days. To my consternation I saw that over the past few minutes I had missed a dozen calls from Lewis. Panicking – what on earth could be so urgent? – I called him back. He answered immediately, but he said only, “I can’t talk now,” then he hung up.

Angel strolled back to our table, smiling. “I’m sorry, I really am, but something’s up,” I said. “My job is sometimes like this. It’s just the way it is. We’ll have to abort the rest of our evening. I may have to work all night. I don’t yet know what the problem is, but I soon will. I’ll get the bill.”

So Angel and I said our goodbyes, and I got a taxi to the apartment on St Kilda Road in which I was staying. When I arrived there, I fired up my laptop and I switched on the TV. What Lewis had done was all over the news. In the Mercedes-Benz C63 AMG that our engine partner had made available to him for the weekend, he had performed a burn-out on Fitzroy Street, to please a group of F1 fans who had spotted him and had egged him on. However, unfortunately, he had been observed doing so by a pair of nearby police officers, who had hailed him down and interrogated him. Law enforcement officials can be mischievous at times – and, sure enough, once they had worked out that the naughty motorist in front of them was a global megastar, they had alerted ABC News, and when its camera crew arrived they had switched back on the flashing blue lights on their patrol car so as to make the TV footage more dramatic.

To compound matters further, it so happened that Victoria Police had recently launched what they had termed an “anti-hoon” campaign, whereby, “if police have reasonable grounds for believing that a driver has committed a hoon-related offence, they have the power to seize the vehicle concerned and impound or immobilise it for 48 hours [increased to 30 days in 2011] regardless of who owns it and whether or not the driver is the registered operator”. In Hamilton’s case the police had described his hoon-related misdeed to ABC News as “deliberately breaking traction”.

I called Martin Whitmarsh, the McLaren team principal, and I explained that we could and therefore would say nothing publicly until we knew more about the affair. Before long my mobile phone began ringing so often that I could not keep up with it. As soon as I had said “Sorry mate, we aren’t commenting at this stage” to one journalist, two more were calling me. I was missing as many calls as I was taking. It was now well past midnight in Australia, but that meant that, back in Europe, journalists and TV reporters were in the middle of their working days, and ‘hoon-gate’, as it was soon dubbed, was the biggest F1 story of the moment, and by a country mile. Indeed, it was actually leading some TV news bulletins in Australia and the UK. Lewis was already serious box office 15 years ago.

In those days, Lewis was often overwhelmed by triumph and crushed by disaster

I kept trying to call him. No answer. Finally he picked up. He explained what I now already knew. “Where are you now?” I asked him.

“In my hotel room,” he replied.

“Good. Were you arrested?” I asked.

“I don’t think so,” he replied.

“Well, you’d know if you had been. They’d have had to say the words ‘you’re under arrest’. Did they say that?”

“No.”

“Good. How fast were you going?”

“Not fast at all. Maybe 15mph, honestly. I just did a low-speed burn-out.”

“OK, that’s good, too. So you didn’t even break the speed limit. It’s very late, so try to get some sleep now. I know that may be difficult for you, because you’ve had an unpleasant experience, but we’ll handle this for you. You weren’t arrested, you weren’t even caught speeding, so at worst it’ll be a minor traffic offence, and you’ve got to try to get pole position tomorrow. As I say, we’ll handle this. It’s what we’re here for. Goodnight.”

Lewis Hamilton fans with a no hooning flag at 2010 F1 Australian Grand Prix

Hamilton fans quickly responded to the breaking news

James Moy/Sutton Images

In truth I knew that he would not sleep soundly, and I was equally certain that he would not qualify well the following afternoon. Lewis was and is the best driver with whom I have ever worked – and I have paid my dues alongside three other F1 world champions, Button, Alonso, and Vettel – but in those days, just 25 and not particularly mature for that quarter-century, he was often overwhelmed by triumph and crushed by disaster. Now, a battle-scarred and worldly-wise 40-year-old, he is better able than any other current F1 driver to treat those two impostors just the same.

I arrived at the circuit early the next day, to be certain of being there before Lewis would be, and I SMS’d him when I got there: “I’m in the paddock. Text me when you’re near and I’ll meet you in the car park and walk you in so as to keep the journalists and TV crews at arm’s length.” Soon my Blackberry beeped: he had arrived. I hurried over to where we had agreed to meet – to find him sitting, sullen-faced, alongside his then physio/trainer Clayton Green, in the front passenger seat of a Holden hire car, replacing the AMG Merc that had been seized and impounded by the police the night before – and we began our walk of shame.

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We marched in silence, fast, and in step, and we ducked through the FIA scrutineering garage into the pit lane instead of braving the paddock, which was already thronged with TV crews and journalists awaiting the hooning miscreant’s appearance. When we arrived at the McLaren garage we darted through it and out into the paddock, where the crowd of media folk ready to enjoy their feeding frenzy was dense and excitable. Nonetheless we pushed through it, we entered our paddock hospitality unit, and I deposited Lewis in his private room within it. He had not uttered a word.

Satisfied that Lewis was in a safe place, albeit not in a happy one from an emotional point of view, I went back out into the paddock and advised the journalists and TV crews to disperse, telling them all that Hamilton had not been arrested, so they should not use that word in their reporting; that he had not been speeding, so they should not suggest that he had been; and that hopefully he would qualify in the top three, which would enable them to question him in the post-qualifying TV pen and FIA press conference. However, to be honest, I was buying time, for I still felt pretty sure that he would balls-up quali.

Matt Bishop escorts Lewis Hamilton through the F1 paddock at the 2010 F1 Australian Grand Prix

Bishop leads Hamilton through the paddock, following the McLaren driver’s police encounter

Ker Robertson/Getty Images

I was right. Hamilton was fourth-quickest in Q1, behind only Vettel, Rosberg, and Button, but in Q2 he messed up his best lap in its third sector, as a result of which error he ended up only 11th-fastest, and consequently ineligible to contest Q3. In Q3 Vettel took the pole, and Button was fourth.

Nice guy though Jenson was and is – and a driver whose speed, skill, and wisdom were and are often underrated in my opinion – he always seemed to respond well whenever misfortune descended on the side of our garage adjacent to his. That is not a criticism of him. Indeed it is the opposite. He was always able to turn negatives for his team-mates into positives for himself, and so it was in Melbourne in 2010. While he was doing his post-qualifying media duties, all smiles, I arranged for Lewis to speak to a few friendly reporters about the events of the previous evening, during which interviews he was judicious enough to heed my comms/PR counsel by saying that he was sorry for his actions. Late that night, exhausted, I met Angel in a Collingwood pub, and I told him that I thought Jenson would do well the following afternoon.

Lewis Hamilton talks to media after qualifying at 2010 F1 Australian Grand Prix

Hamilton talks to the press after qualifying as Bishop watches on in the background

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What happened in Sunday’s race was emblematic of the contrasting characters of the two McLaren drivers in those days. On a damp track, after an early safety car deployment, Hamilton restarted well, scrambling up the field from his lowly grid position to seventh on lap five, just behind Button, who had been running around conservatively in sixth. On the next lap Hamilton passed Button and set off after Rosberg. A dry line had now appeared and on lap seven Button stopped for slicks, the first of the front-runners to do so. Soon afterwards everyone followed suit.

As wily in such conditions as ever, Jenson had timed his tyre stop perfectly, and by lap 11 he was in second place, only a couple of car lengths in arrears of the leader, Vettel. Hamilton was seventh, just behind Vettel’s Red Bull team-mate Mark Webber, whom he overtook on lap 15. Six laps later he passed Massa, lifting himself to fifth, and five laps farther on he elbowed his way past Rosberg, too. Vettel retired with brake trouble on that lap, promoting Hamilton to third. Now Lewis appeared to be getting excited, or angry, or both, for he was becoming vocal on the radio, complaining of tyre degradation and berating our engineers, describing the race strategy they had devised for him as “a frickin’ terrible idea”. He made a second tyre stop on lap 34, allowing both Ferraris to pass him, which dropped him to fifth, just ahead of Webber, who began to challenge him aggressively. In the end their battle became too wild, sending them both into a gravel trap on lap 55. Hamilton recovered to finish sixth, while Webber ended up ninth, earning himself a reprimand from the race stewards for his trouble. Who won the race? Jenson, scoring his first victory for McLaren, as serene as you like.

Lewis Hamilton makes contact with Mark Webber in the 2010 F1 Australian Grand Prix

Clash with Webber later in the race meant that there was no positive ending to Australian GP weekend for Hamilton

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Five months later, in August, Hamilton was represented in a Melbourne court by an Australian barrister, Sandip Mukerjea, who pleaded guilty on his client’s behalf to the charge of “improper use of a motor vehicle”. Since it had been a first offence, Lewis avoided a conviction, but he was ordered to pay a fine of A$500 (about £285 in those days). McLaren’s chief legal officer Tim Murnane and I had drafted a statement for him, which Mukerjea read out in court, as follows: “I very much regret my momentary lapse of judgment. I accepted responsibility in reply to the police officers who first questioned me, and I confirmed that I was aware that what I had done was wrong. I apologised publicly at the time, and I unhesitatingly repeat that apology to the court now. I fully accept that I am a public figure, and I understand that I have a duty to act as a role model to youngsters, particularly in relation to road safety matters. The publicity caused by the incident was immense, and that in itself has been a form of punishment for me.”

I love Australia, really I do. Indeed, Melbourne is one of my favourite cities. But, now, looking back on ‘hoon-gate’ after the passing of 15 years, it really does feel like a bit of a storm in a teacup. Heaven knows what two 21st-century Victoria Police officers would have said and done if they had ever witnessed the way in which the F1 stars of the 1950s, 1960s, 1970s, and 1980s used to drive road cars. We did not call that kind of thing hooning back then; indeed the term did not yet exist in a motoring context; but you can be well sure that burn-outs were frequent, deliberately breaking traction was de rigueur, improper use of motor vehicles was a daily occurrence, and a speed of 15mph was routinely exceeded by an order of magnitude even in built-up areas. I am not condoning that kind of behaviour, but neither do I find that I have the heart to condemn it. Suffice it to say that it belongs in the past, and the past is another country.

As for Lewis, I reckon that what he did on Fitzroy Street 15 years ago was silly at worst, and I am pretty sure that most of you who are reading these words will agree with me. Oh and, finally, here is a beguiling ‘anorak fact’: soon after the dust had settled on ‘hoon-gate’, and the media reporting of it had abated, the AMG Merc C63 concerned was sold for A$157,000 (about £89,500 in those days), which was a decent chunk above its market value. I wonder who owns it now, and whether he, she, or they are aware of its remarkable history?