At least on iRacing, I have never really had a win-at-all-costs mindset. While some may see it as a character strength, maintaining the perspective that “it’s just a game” after all, it has often proven to be a weakness.
I nearly lost my first Power Series championship by not making a slide job on the final restart at Bristol, which could have been worth a few valuable points in a season decided by a tiebreaker, fortunately in my favor. And I blame my lack of wins at restrictor plate tracks to an inability — or ineptitude, perhaps — of making big moves in the closing laps.
More recently, any hope of winning at all on iRacing was beginning to fade. While I’m not a regular in official races, the ones I’ve competed in always seem to have enough fast drivers to deny me any chance. That only escalated over the past year in the pandemic-aided surge in participation.
Even with a fast teammate and a historical strength driving GT cars, success had been hard to find. For Karl and I, our last three endurance race attempts all ended in early crashes, and in my last solo official race in the BMW M4 GT3 at Daytona, I was chopped, dived, dumped, and ultimately DNFed at Daytona.
Forget about winning. Lately, just finishing a race would be a nice result. And I couldn’t help but think that getting more experience in sprint race situations — the heat of battles, the rhythm of a race, and the relief of the checkered flag — would at least help me survive in an enduro.
This week’s iRacing schedule provided just that opportunity. Week 13 features fewer official series but with more frequent races, so it’s easy to run back to back to back in short but competitive events.
In addition, the new build brought a new track in the Hockenheimring. An old favorite of mine dating back to the F1 Challenge: ‘99-‘02 game, I was excited to try it on iRacing, and with my much-loved Porsche Cup car visiting the track in its official series, it was an ideal time to grind some sprint races, even if it would probably mean extending my winless streak at the hands of speedier, sharper competition.
A False Start
Whether it was due to rustiness, nerves, or over-eager driving, my first few races ended in embarrassment, frustration, or disappointment. In line for a podium in my first start, I spun exiting the final corner and dropped fourteen spots at the finish.
In another race, I got my spin out of the way on the first lap and was left to claw back positions the rest of the way. And in the race after that, I was spun by another driver in the first corner and added injury to that insult with a mid-race spin on my own.
Four races in, I had only finished one with no incidents. While I was slowly picking up my pace, I was far from fighting for wins, and a fellow persistent Porsche Cup participant named Bruno was asserting his own dominance with a 10-second margin of victory in our latest race.
But after that, I caught a break. Bruno wasn’t entered in the next race, and after a pole-winning qualifying lap, a win suddenly seemed not just possible, but likely as long as I could avoid the same costly mistakes as I’d made earlier in the evening.
Nervous energy on the starting grid wound up breeding a new error. My left foot released a little too much pressure on the brake pedal, causing the car to inch forward and handing me a penalty for jumping the start. Before I had even tasted the lead, my chances had been dashed.
At that point, I considered quitting for the night, but the hope that maybe all the fast drivers had gone to bed convinced me to try another race. And when I saw the entries for that one, boy, was I wrong.
At 6,300+ iRating, Bruno was back. So was Hugo, the recipient of my starting-line gift and victory in the previous race. There was also Ricardo, a runner-up behind Bruno earlier; Jim, new to the Porsche that night but a driver I recognized as one of the quickest in the Mustang; top streamer Matt Malone; and a cast of others who all seemed capable of denying me a shot at the win, as if I wouldn’t do that job myself.
Just staying among the leaders would be a solid result, and the sort of experience I badly needed amid my recent slump. Frankly, making it through the first lap would have been a triumph in its own right.
The Battle Begins
Before the race, I turned one of my fastest qualifying laps of the night: a 1:41.5, just a tenth behind Bruno. This time, I managed a clean start and settled into second place among the train of Porsches at the front.
While we’d all compress together in the draft on the curving backstretch and in the braking zone for the hairpin that followed, I held my position and notably didn’t attempt a pass on Bruno, even when I had the speed to get alongside him. It’s an old trick I learned during my Jetta-driving days of not playing my cars too early in the race.
Granted, in a race that lasted only 15 minutes, too early is all relative. However, my patience paid off, and with two laps to go, I seized my opportunity.
With a run on Bruno down the backstretch and a small gap to the pair behind us, I made my move. Instead of tucking in behind him like I’d done all race, I darted to his inside.
Getting the downforce-starved, ABS-lacking Porsche to slow down for and turn through the hairpin was the next challenge, and I managed it without locking up but effectively parked on the apex. That thwarted Bruno’s attempted undercut, and he was nearly spun in the logjam that developed behind me.
I suddenly had a modest lead with just a lap and a half to go. Barring any mistakes, the race was mine to lose.
Of course, if you’ve been reading up to this point, you’ll know the main reason I was running these races was because of my tendency to screw up during pressure-packed race situations. The pressure was only amplified in this case, and on the wild lap ahead, it would be dialed up another notch.
The Jaws of Defeat
Starting the final lap, Bruno had gotten clear of the snarling pack chasing him, but he was more than half a second behind, and not close enough to slipstream past me down the backstretch.
After I drove a little too deep into the hairpin, he was closing in. However, I knew that in the tight sections that followed, it would be tough for him to make a pass, if he could even get to me in the first place.
Naturally, I gave him exactly that chance in the very next corner. A small lockup forced me a bit wide of the apex at turn eight, and he was fully alongside in the short chute that followed.
At this point, only one thing flashed through my mind: win at all costs. It simply seemed like a race I couldn’t give away. Not without a fight.
So I pinched Bruno to the inside as we entered the stadium section, and I approached the slightly banked turn 12 — the same corner where Sebastian Vettel beached his car to give away a German Grand Prix win in 2018 — right on his bumper.
Attempting a pass here would require channeling skills I’ve either long repressed or never possessed to begin with: a late-braking divebomb that could just as easily take out Bruno as it could put me ahead of him.
The end result was… neither. We exited the corner door to door, but I had the preferred inside line for the chicane that followed. Bruno’s route to the apex was covered, so he ran wide over the kerb, clipping the grass and spinning off the track.
With my adrenaline rushing, I avoided a last-corner spin like I’d started the night with and crossed the finish line to take the victory. It took one of my most memorable last laps ever, and a few aggressive moves I might regret had they not paid off, but my drought was finally over.
I knew it had been a while since I had won an official race, but after checking the stats, I was shocked to see just how long it had taken to do it again.
My previous win was in a GT1 race at Bathurst on February 27, 2019 — just over two years and 81 races ago. As I recall, that one was a bit of a fluke since the fastest driver purposefully started at the back and crashed on the first lap.
In this case, I know I earned the win fighting directly against a number of fast drivers. No, it wasn’t the mistake-free race I might have wanted, but perhaps this is what I truly needed: confidence to stay focused through frustration, to channel the lessons I’ve learned over my many years of sim racing, and even to dig deep into my bag of tricks, whatever the cost.
Whether I go another two races or two years between wins, or even if I never win again, this is absolutely one I won’t forget.