Ayrton Senna once gave racing perhaps its most famous piece of advice:

“If you no longer go for a gap that exists, you are no longer a racing driver.”

It sounds magnificent.

It also sounds considerably better when printed on a T-shirt than when someone uses it to explain why they have just launched a GT3 car from three postcodes away into Turn 1.

There is another small problem with the quote.

Senna said it to Jackie Stewart shortly after deliberately taking Alain Prost out at Suzuka in 1990 — something Senna later admitted. In other words, one of racing’s most celebrated pieces of wisdom was partly being used to defend something that wasn’t really an overtaking attempt at all.

And yet, decades later, sim racers still live by it.

There’s a gap. I’m a racing driver. Therefore I must go.

No.

Racecraft begins when you add one very small question:

Why now?

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The Fastest Car Doesn’t Always Win

Hotlapping is wonderfully simple.

You have a car. You have a circuit. You have some tyres. Drive as quickly as possible.

Racing ruins all of this by introducing other people.

Worse still, those other people have different cars, different fuel loads, different tyre wear, different strategies and different ideas about what constitutes acceptable behaviour between two white lines.

Take something like GT7.

Imagine you are in a McLaren and there is a BMW M6 ahead.

Early in the race, the BMW is fast. Really fast.

Your natural instinct is to attack.

But what if you know that, with the tyre wear multiplier being used, the BMW’s advantage begins to disappear after roughly the first 20% of the race?

Now you have a choice.

You can fight it immediately.

Brake late. Run side-by-side. Overheat the tyres. Compromise your exits. Spend five laps behaving like two men fighting over the last television on Black Friday.

Or…

You can sit behind it.

Because you aren’t racing the BMW on lap five.

You’re racing it on lap twenty-five.

Let him use the tyres.

Save yours.

Stay close enough that he cannot disappear, but don’t spend something now that you will need later.

And fuel can change the equation again.

If your McLaren can carry substantially more fuel for the strategy you’re running, perhaps you don’t need to pass the BMW on track at all.

Let him pit.

Now you have clean air.

The fuel burns away. Your car becomes lighter. Your tyres are still alive.

Those laps may be where the actual overtake happens.

The BMW is sitting stationary in the pits while you are doing qualifying laps on an increasingly empty fuel tank.

No divebomb required.

Which is slightly disappointing for YouTube, but excellent for winning races.

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Sometimes the Best Thing to Do Is Absolutely Nothing

Now imagine there are five cars ahead of you.

A proper GT racing train.

Everyone is half a second apart and the actual reason the train exists is three cars ahead.

This is where impatience becomes expensive.

The car directly in front isn’t necessarily slow. He is simply attached to four other cars.

You could start attacking him.

He defends.

You attack again.

Someone goes side-by-side.

Everyone misses an apex.

Tyres start overheating.

Wonderful entertainment.

But where exactly are you going?

You’re still in the same train.

So watch further ahead.

If this is a long race, perhaps the correct move is simply to stay there.

Let the others weave.

Let them defend.

Let them attack.

Let them use their tyres fighting for a position that isn’t actually going anywhere.

Eventually something changes.

Someone makes a mistake.

Someone’s tyres disappear.

Someone gets impatient.

The train breaks.

And suddenly you have something extremely useful.

Tyres.

Racecraft isn’t always about creating an opportunity.

Sometimes it’s about recognising that five other people are currently creating one for you.

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Don’t Just Drive Your Car. Drive His.

Fernando Alonso produced one of Formula One’s great overtakes at Suzuka in 2005 when he went around Michael Schumacher through 130R.

There is a famous internet version of the story where Alonso supposedly explained that he knew Schumacher would brake because he had a wife and two children waiting at home.

He didn’t actually say that in the post-race press conference. The viral clip was manipulated. But Alonso did later make a remarkably similar observation to journalist Nigel Roebuck: in moments like that, he remembered that Michael had two children.

And the underlying idea is fascinating.

Because now we’re no longer talking about braking points.

We’re talking about the man in the other car.

That is racecraft.

You can do the same thing without going anywhere near 130R at Formula One speeds.

Suppose you’re following someone down a straight.

You know where he normally brakes.

You could simply pull alongside and attempt to outbrake him.

Or you can show your car towards the inside.

Just briefly.

Now he has a problem.

He doesn’t know whether you’re coming.

So he protects the inside.

Excellent.

You’ve already made him slower.

His entry is tighter. His corner is compromised. He has less room to rotate the car and his exit may suffer.

Meanwhile, you brake slightly earlier.

Open the corner.

Get the car rotated.

And concentrate entirely on acceleration.

He entered the corner ahead.

You arranged things so that you leave it faster.

The overtake didn’t begin under braking.

It began on the straight when you persuaded the other driver to put his car somewhere inconvenient.

That is the difference between passing another car and racing another driver.

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Your Opponent Has Habits

After racing the same people for a while, something interesting happens.

You begin to know them.

Not personally.

You may have absolutely no idea what they do for a living.

But you know exactly what they are going to do when you appear in their mirror.

This one always protects the inside.

That one brakes ridiculously late when under pressure.

Another driver immediately attempts a counterattack after being passed.

One becomes nervous if you sit within half a second for three laps.

And then there is that guy.

The one who fights for every centimetre.

Against a driver you trust, you can race around the outside.

You know he will leave space.

He knows you will leave space.

Beautiful.

Against that guy?

No.

If you’re going to fight him, make sure your car controls the inside.

Going around his outside and hoping he leaves exactly one car width is not racecraft.

It is faith.

And while faith has accomplished many impressive things throughout human history, I wouldn’t personally use it as a braking reference.

Study people.

If you already know how someone normally defends, then when you finally attack, you’re not discovering his decision.

You’re waiting for him to make the decision you expected.

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The Middle of the Track Is a Wonderful Place

The same applies when you’re defending.

Many racers see a car approaching and immediately drive all the way to the inside.

Congratulations.

You have now told the other driver exactly where you’re going to be.

Sometimes a much stronger position is around the middle of the circuit.

Now he has to decide.

Inside?

Outside?

Where is your braking point going to be?

You have reduced his options while keeping yours.

And there is another little trick.

Brake slightly earlier than he expects.

Not a brake-check.

Don’t be an idiot.

Just slightly earlier.

He has constructed his entire attack around your expected braking point.

Now you’ve moved it.

Suddenly his reference disappears.

He reacts.

Perhaps he brakes too late. Perhaps he runs deep. Perhaps his entire corner becomes compromised.

Occasionally he continues majestically towards the gravel trap.

This is unfortunate.

But educational.

You didn’t make his car miss the corner.

You changed the problem his brain had to solve.

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Race Where Your Car Is Good

There is another strange habit in racing.

People attack because they are close enough to attack.

But that doesn’t necessarily mean they’re in the correct place to do it.

Every car has strengths.

Maybe yours rotates beautifully through medium-speed corners.

Maybe it has better traction.

Maybe it is stable under braking.

Maybe it has tremendous straight-line speed.

Find the part of the circuit where your car is better and construct the race around it.

Ideally, you want to complete an overtake just before a section where you are slightly stronger.

Why?

Because now you don’t immediately have to spend the next half lap defending the position you’ve just gained.

The track does some of the defending for you.

Long straights are an especially good example.

Everyone wants to lead onto a long straight.

But sometimes that’s precisely the wrong place to be.

If you’re first at the beginning, the other car gets your slipstream.

If the straight is long enough, perhaps the ideal strategy is to enter it second and finish it first.

P1 at the beginning of the straight doesn’t pay any points.

P1 at the finish line does.

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Sometimes You Should Let the Faster Guy Through

This is where ego starts having serious problems with racecraft.

Imagine you’re second.

You can just about stay with the leader.

You aren’t quite fast enough to pass him.

Then another car catches you.

And he’s clearly faster.

The instinct is immediate.

DEFEND.

Of course.

You’re second.

He’s third.

This is racing.

Senna.

Gaps.

War.

Except this is lap nine of thirty.

So you defend.

He attacks.

You defend again.

Both of you lose half a second.

Then another half.

Your tyres start suffering.

Meanwhile the leader drives away wondering what all the fuss is about.

There is another solution.

Let the faster car through.

Yes.

Actually let him through.

Then follow him.

Because now you’ve given the fastest man in the group a new problem.

The leader.

He catches him.

The leader starts defending.

The faster driver attacks.

They go side-by-side.

Their tyres begin suffering.

Their lap times drop.

And you’re sitting behind them thinking:

Yes. Excellent. Carry on.

Now perhaps you attack the second-place car.

And if they’ve been sufficiently enthusiastic…

You attack the leader too.

You didn’t defend P2.

You used P3 to create an opportunity for P1.

That is racecraft.

It also has the wonderful side effect of making the person you deliberately allowed past deeply confused when you appear beside him ten laps later.

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Save Senna for the Boss Fight

None of this means you should never fight.

Quite the opposite.

There comes a moment when the calculations change.

Three laps remaining.

Two cars.

Similar tyres.

Similar pace.

Nothing useful waiting in the pit strategy.

Now we’re racing.

This is the boss fight.

Now every centimetre matters.

Now you defend.

Now you pressure.

Now you show the nose.

Now you take the opportunity when it appears.

Now you can be Senna.

The mistake is being Senna on lap two of a forty-minute race.

Because every unnecessary fight has a cost.

Tyres.

Fuel.

Time.

Risk.

And reputation.

The last one matters more than people think.

An aggressive driver can win a battle today.

But if he spends an entire season forcing everyone else to avoid accidents, eventually people remember.

They stop trusting him.

They stop leaving that extra bit of room.

They stop backing out.

And sooner or later probability does what probability does.

Two cars arrive at the same piece of asphalt.

There is a noise.

Someone types “bro???” into the chat.

And the stewards receive another delightful video to watch.

Clean racing isn’t weak racing.

You can be incredibly aggressive without touching another car.

You can control his line.

Manipulate his braking.

Pressure him.

Force him to defend.

Make him uncomfortable.

Take away his options.

Aggression and control are not opposites.

The very best battles happen when both drivers understand this.

Those are the boss fights you remember.

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The Race Is Bigger Than the Corner

This is ultimately what racecraft means.

A beginner sees the next corner.

A reasonably quick driver sees the next sector.

A good racer begins seeing laps.

Tyres.

Fuel.

Pit windows.

Traffic.

Slipstream.

Car characteristics.

Opponent behaviour.

Risk.

Sometimes the correct move is an overtake.

Sometimes it’s pressure.

Sometimes it’s deliberately staying second.

Sometimes it’s letting a faster driver through.

Sometimes it’s sitting behind a BMW for ten laps because you know perfectly well that his race is happening now and yours is happening later.

And sometimes Senna was right.

There is a gap.

The race is nearly over.

You’ve prepared the move.

Your car is strong there.

The opportunity exists.

Go.

But racecraft adds one question Senna’s famous quote leaves out:

Why now?

Because perhaps his tyres will disappear.

Perhaps he needs to pit.

Perhaps the two cars ahead are about to destroy each other.

Perhaps you need him to defend the next driver.

Perhaps the next sector suits your car better.

Perhaps being second at the beginning of the straight is exactly where you want to be.

Or perhaps it really is the final lap.

In that case?

Fine.

Forget everything I just said.

Go get him.

But keep one more old racing saying somewhere in the back of your mind, usually attributed to Stirling Moss:

“In order to finish first, you first have to finish.”

Because pace tells you how fast you can drive.

Racecraft tells you when to attack, when to wait, when to manipulate, when to disappear into someone’s mirrors and when to simply let everyone else make the mistakes for you.

The fastest driver tries to win every corner.

The best racer tries to win the race.

Orrak
Blue Dragon Racing Founder
ALR league driver and proud supporter of sim racing