Book review: Skaife autobiography won't settle old scores

It’s surely a truism that great race drivers don’t get to be great drivers by being humble, self-effacing chaps.

Exhibit A: The first 20 or so pages of Mark Skaife’s new autobiography, which is officially titled ‘Mark Skaife: The Complete Illustrated Autobiography’.

The racing driver, who became a businessman, media personality, race track designer and spokesman for safety concerns, leaves the reader in little doubt that he felt destined all along to be a front-runner in car racing from as far back as his teenage years in karts.

But then he did win Bathurst six times! That just doesn’t happen to fellows lacking confidence.

The book is not without some frank admissions from the bloke in question; Skaife is aware of his own foibles, conceding that he is “the world’s worst loser”.

For 25 years he didn’t speak with a rival responsible for writing off Skaife’s car in the Ford Laser one-make series from the early 1980s.

Skaife also reveals in the book that there have been occasions when he felt “scared” trying to get the best out of a car in demanding conditions.

One such occasion was braking late in the wet at Pukekohe and ‘speedwaying’ around the corner with plenty of throttle and opposite lock. It was more gamble than calculation, but it remains for Skaife one of his more memorable driving moments.

His explanation of his race craft – overtaking, specifically – is not in the same league as Ben Collins’ excellent work ‘How to Drive’, but does conjure up a mind’s-eye picture for the reader.

Skaife’s autobiography is different in style and tone from Allan Moffat’s, which benefited from ghost writing by John Smailes.

Skaife did have some assistance from journalist Andrew Clarke, but Clarke is thanked in the acknowledgements at the end of the book, rather than receiving a blazing credit on the front cover. So aside from the excerpts written by those who know him, the words are Skaife’s, and that’s an appropriate choice for this book.

The early parts of the book naturally deal with Skaife’s upbringing and the work ethic his father and grandfather instilled in him, plus his ‘hungry’ nature to win.

After that, Skaife focuses on his stint in karts, his early friendship with Glenn Seton, and his transition to cars.

As the book progresses, it draws the reader in with characters and events, making an easy transition from hagiography to history.

Most of Skaife’s mates who contributed words to the book are generally upbeat and complimentary, but the book is better still for the occasional candour or even the things left unsaid: Seton mentions that their friendship soured for a time after Seton and his father Bo returned to Sydney from Melbourne, taking the race team’s major sponsor with them.

Fred Gibson praises Skaife for this ‘loyalty’ to the Nissan team despite an offer from HRT on the table, but also notes of Skaife that he wasn’t “a natural driver”. Gibson remarks too that Skaife was a driver who “would get the job done”.

Gibson and Jim Richards are agreed that Skaife’s use of ‘data’ to set up a car was a better method than Richards’ own seat-of-the-pants method.

Skaife remains well-liked by those who are or have been in the Skaife camp – Tony Cochrane is a particular fan and mate, and so is ex-AFL player Craig Kelly and former DJR driver John Bowe.

Craig Lowndes shows respect for Skaife that goes beyond merely grudging, but the reader will possibly feel like Lowndes is holding something back.

Roland Dane more or less insinuates that the relationship between Skaife and Lowndes was founded more on respect than mateship as such.

It should come as no surprise to anyone who has admired his ability to simplify arcane technical subjects on TV that Mark Larkham manages to explain Skaife’s character in similarly simple terms.

There’s Skaife the racing driver, ruthless and tenacious on the track; and then there’s Skaife the chatty, all-round good bloke.

Larkham lightens the mood with this amusing remark: “Maybe the reason his trophy cabinet has more silverware than ours is he would sell his grandmother to get better anti-roll bar bushes and we [Larkham and Neil Crompton] would, well, just lease her out.”

Larkham and Skaife obviously share a warm relationship, which strengthened during the mid-’90s when Larkham, driving a Ford, was having trouble keeping up with the pack.

Skaife, driving a Holden by then, offered some helpful engineering advice to make the Falcon more competitive. It’s another snippet that tells us more about the man.

Larkham has plenty of anecdotes to offer, all of which will leave the reader smiling.

And based on his assessment of the frequent discussions between the stakeholders on the blue and red sides of the fence, Larkham could and really should write his own book about V8 Supercars, parity and the Cochrane era…

Both Moffat’s autobiography and a recent history of the DJR/Penske team present in-depth background concerning the respective race cars.

Skaife’s book does occasionally dwell on specific race cars too, although not in the same detail, or with the same devotion.

The R32 GT-R developed by Gibson’s team for the ATCC was so far ahead of other GT-Rs, according to Gibson, that Nismo refused to allow the Australian cars to compete in Japan, despite multiple invites and requests for the Aussie team to compete there.

Skaife describes the R32 as a “weapon”, but also admitted that it needed some serious ‘Australianisation’ to be sufficiently robust and reliable. It’s an intriguing parallel with the DJR Ford Sierras from around the same time.

The book occasionally skims over memorable events, business dealings and personal details. Skaife’s first wife Belinda barely rates a mention, for instance, and Peter Brock’s falling out with Holden in 1987 was big news at the time, but Skaife barely touches on it in the book.

He was racing for Nissan then and HRT didn’t even exist, so it’s probably understandable that the event is mentioned just briefly.

Harder to understand is the complete absence from the book of the memorable on-track skirmish with Russell Ingall at Eastern Creek in 2003. In fact, the word count in the book for “Ingall” is zero – even lower than the word count for “Belinda”.

And the entire year of 2003 has gone missing in action, which Skaife himself might put down to the challenge of directing his share of HRT in the aftermath of Tom Walkinshaw’s financial difficulties.

At least Skaife’s second wife Toni, and his three kids, feature fairly prominently – in picture and in word – near the end of the book.

Your average person in the street will find Skaife’s story to be interesting and easy to read.

While there are those glaring gaps in the history and it ultimately lacks the minutiae and fine detail of Moffat’s autobiography, it is a book you can put down and pick up again a few days later, or finish in one sitting.

As a printed product, ‘Mark Skaife’ contains few if any of the annoying little typos or misplaced words that can spoil an otherwise good read. The book is printed in Australia on quality stock and costs just $45, so it won’t break the bank.

The final word should go to Fred Gibson, who writes of Skaife: “And he still talks as fast as he drove”.

All told, that’s a fitting tribute…

Mark Skaife: The Complete Illustrated Autobiography by Mark Skaife (Affirm Press $45)