Motorsport is not a personality

Motorsport has always attracted strong loyalties. Manufacturers, teams, drivers, eras. That intensity is part of the appeal. The problem begins when interest hardens into identity.

Somewhere between fandom and tribalism, motorsport stops being something people follow and starts becoming something they perform. Opinions turn into positions. Preferences become badges. Disagreement is treated as a threat rather than a conversation.

That shift flattens the sport.

When motorsport becomes a personality, everything has to be defended. Poor strategy is excused. Weak performances are reframed. Context is ignored in favour of narrative. Discussion narrows because curiosity gives way to loyalty.

Endurance racing, in particular, suffers when viewed this way.

The appeal of long-distance competition lies in complexity. Multiple classes, evolving conditions, compromise, attrition, recovery. It is a sport built on patience and adaptation rather than dominance. Reducing that to tribal support misses the point entirely.

Manufacturers come and go. Programmes rise and fall. Regulations change. The sport survives because it rewards understanding, not allegiance.

Enjoying motorsport does not require turning it into an extension of the self. In fact, stepping back often sharpens appreciation. It becomes easier to acknowledge good work wherever it appears. Easier to criticise failure without defensiveness. Easier to enjoy the sport on its own terms.

Motorsport does not need protection from analysis.
It improves because of it.

Treating it as a lens rather than a mirror keeps the conversation open, the perspective wide, and the sport far more interesting than any single identity could allow.

Endurance racing rewards that distance.
The longer the race, the clearer it becomes that no team, manufacturer, or driver owns the narrative. Success is provisional, failure is instructional, and perspective matters more than allegiance. Watch it that way, and the sport gives far more back.