The Secrets of My Success

by Nick St. Laurent

If I had to pick one key factor that has helped my racing, I would have to say, in the immortal words of Nigel Mansel upon winning the British Grand Prix for the umpteenth time… "people power." Yes, believe it. In the past four or five years, I have been privileged to learn and grow under the tutelage and with the support of an incredible cast of characters.

When I started racing I was lucky enough to stumble into the Hancock Sports Cars camp. John Hancock and his son CT Hancock utilize the well-known good cop, bad cop tag team approach to coaching. Not only is CT a great driver, he's an awesome coach. There are others out there, I think it would have been excellent learning this everything from Scotty Seegers, he combines the good cop, bad cop deal under one hat. But more on Seegers later. For me, CT was perfect. From the very first race, he talked me through every corner, every gear change, every technique, and every strategy using track maps, driver briefings, counseling sessions, you name it. And I can always feel the empathy (or is it sympathy) as he carefully searches for the right approach and the right words to advance my efforts. I think his sternest admonishment has been, "You need to pick up the pace." When he says that, you know it's serious. He may have inherited his communication skills from his mother, Gayle Hancock. If I could describe in one word his approach to the driver's psyche, I would say, massage.

There's a slightly different description for John's coaching style, the word bludgeon comes to mind. His specialty is motivating a driver in the hot pits. Say you're out there for a qualifying session, say the car's pushing through some corners, or maybe you've lost the rhythm, or, hell, maybe a wheel's come off. You pull over in the pitlane and John listens to your lame excuses about why you came in, then looks you straight in the eye and yells, "just get out there and drive the car!" Emphasis on drive. But he's consistent, too. Say you've had a big one on Saturday, playing destruction derby on the front straight in plain view of everyone, getting airborne and knocking two corners off the car. John will stay up until the wee hours hammerin' and welding with coat hangers, slapping on fiberglass and duct tape. Next day, you pull into pitlane with your lame excuses, he'll look you straight in the eye and yell, "just get out there and drive the car." He's never given up on any of his drivers. He's also flexible, adjusting his words to suit the situation. For example, it's minus 12 degrees Fahrenheit, with a wind chill of minus 50 degrees. You've been out for three laps and there's a black-flag-all because bent cars are littering the track. Pull into pitlane, John walks over and looks at the tires, puts his hands on one, then looks you straight in the eye and says "there's no heat in these tires!"

I'm a self-motivated guy, so much so, in fact, that I can let the pressure and intensity get to me, and then the last hour or so before heading to the grid feels like getting ready for a funeral. This year my mantra is "have fun." I'm going to relax and enjoy myself, no pressure, just get in the car and have fun. But then I forget that I have this incredible cast of characters thing going on. Our trusty Goodyear tire guy, Steve Henry, is also a great mechanic and a friend, so when I go to an out-of-division race he takes care of the wrenching… and motivating. It's a beautiful morning and we're headed to the race track for the Snowbird Double National at Phoenix, and I'm sitting in the passenger seat repeating my new mantra and sipping herbal tea. Steve nudges me out of my reverie with this gem, "If you don't win both nationals, I'm going to kick your butt." After popping some Valium, I'm okay again twenty-four hours later. So, now I'm relaxed again and we're getting ready for the first qualifying session of the weekend, which will probably establish the grid for both nationals because the weather's perfect. I never go into a race or qualifying session over-confident, it's not my nature, I prefer to play down my chances, especially when talking to people at the race track. And I'm going to have fun. No pressure. And as I'm getting strapped into the car, John walks over and lays this one on me, "You kick ass, I've been telling everyone you're going to be on pole." Luckily, I did end up with pole position, but I swear to God I'm going to start adding whiskey to my morning coffee like daddy used to do. Usually when he was hunting. Go figure.

I've certainly been motivated and even encouraged by competitors, too. Mike Sauce is a great competitor and always likes a good fight. He never fails to let me know, if I happen to be gridded ahead of him, that it won't be long till he's all over me. And I know he's right. Then there's old Scotty Seegers, I wish he could race more often. Even though he's usually coaching and engineering for one or more of my competitors, he never fails to walk over to my grid position before a race to encourage me. He'll stand right there by the nose of the car, and in front of the other drivers, he'll say, "Nick, you're number one." He holds up a different finger than most people. Must be a Corpus Christi thing.

I could go on forever about all of the great characters at the racetrack. Truth is, they're not the reason that I've had some success… they are the reason that I race.

Copyright Nick St. Laurent; all rights reserved.