Taking a young person’s desire to “become a driver” seriously isn’t as straightforward as it seems. Together with Giovanni Minardi (DAG Management), we analyze how to balance personality traits, willpower, and real hard work toward that goal. (fm)
There are two too-simple, superficial answers to the question of what it takes to become a driver: money and talent. To debunk this false myth, the fairest approach is to reflect that it’s actually the lack of one or the other that can be a serious obstacle—sometimes, though not always, as various stories show. But here we’re talking about “becoming” a driver, “being” a driver as a job or hobby, so we’ll focus on what helps you become one, not what might prevent it. It’s pointless to keep repeating that racing karts and/or cars involves costs—it doesn’t add much to the discussion.
Talent: An Overused Term?
Between talent and work, in most areas of life, the latter matters far more than the former—have you ever wondered why sports should be any different? If it were just about talent, soccer players like Antonio Cassano would have won 5 Ballon d’Or awards, or riders like Anthony Gobert would have claimed 10 MotoGP world titles.
Giovanni, what are the most “useful” personality traits for a young person starting out in motorsport? We’re talking about those off the track, of course.
When a kid tells me, “I want to be a Pro driver,” the first thing I try to understand isn’t how fast they go on track, but how they are off it. Because motorsport, more than driving, is a human journey. The most useful personality traits? I see at least five, all decisive.
The first is listening skills. A young driver who thinks they already know everything will stop growing soon. Coaches, engineers, mechanics, managers: those who truly learn to listen accelerate their progress more than anyone else.
The second is real discipline—not the “rulebook” kind, but the daily kind: training even when you don’t feel like it, taking care of your body, sleeping, eating well, studying data, arriving prepared. Talent can spark a flame, but discipline keeps it burning. Then there’s frustration management. In motorsport, you lose far more often than you win. Those who can’t live with mistakes, apparent injustices, or a bad weekend rarely last in the long run. Here, it’s not who falls least that wins, but who gets up best.
Another key quality is responsibility. Being a driver means representing someone: a team, sponsors, a family investing time and energy. Those who grasp early that they’re not racing just for themselves make a huge leap in maturity.
Finally, I’d say ‘hunger’ – in the healthiest sense. Not arrogance, not obsession, but a deep desire to improve every day. The curiosity to figure out where you can still grow. That kind of hunger can’t be taught, but when it’s there… you see it right away.
And what isn’t needed? Feeling predestined. Constantly comparing yourself to others. Seeking shortcuts. In motorsport, like in life, solid careers are built over time, with patience and consistency.
Becoming a driver isn’t just about learning to drive fast. It’s about becoming a person capable of sustaining that role. Those who understand this early start with a big advantage.
Precisely because we started with the word talent: why it alone isn’t enough, and especially, how do you judge a “talent” today? What would you define as “talent” in general for people, for kids, and specifically in motorsport? More simply: what are we talking about when we talk about talent?
Talent alone isn’t enough because it’s not a result—it’s just a starting condition. It’s like having a good voice: it doesn’t make you a singer automatically. In motorsport, this truth is even clearer because the environment is complex, competitive, ruthless. If talent isn’t trained, structured, and put under pressure, it simply dissipates.
Today, talent shouldn’t be judged—or at least, shouldn’t only be judged—by the stopwatch. Going fast is necessary, sure, but not sufficient. The stopwatch captures a moment; true talent reveals itself over time. When we talk about talent in general, I think of three things:
Learning speed, adaptability, and awareness. A talented kid isn’t the one who goes fast right away, but the one who understands why they go fast or why they don’t. The one who, under equal conditions, improves faster than others. The one who switches categories, cars, tires, contexts, and doesn’t get lost. In fact, they often grow.
In motorsport specifically, talent is a combination of factors:
Sensitivity to feeling the car
Clarity under pressure
Ability to repeat a performance, not just nail one good lap
Emotional intelligence in team relationships
A talented driver today is one who turns input into improvement. You tell them something, they try it, internalize it, and you see it on track. No need to repeat it ten times.
There’s an often-undervalued aspect: talent isn’t static. It’s not something you “have or don’t have.” It can grow, shrink, even disappear if not nurtured. I’ve seen kids labeled as prodigies get lost because they stopped there, and others start further back but overtake everyone through work, method, and mindset. That’s why I always say talent must be contextualized. A kid might seem untalented in one environment and reveal themselves much further ahead in another. The people around change, the method, the expectations. In short, when we say today “this is a talent,” we should ask: how improvable are they? How curious? How willing to question themselves? If that’s missing, talent is just a pretty word. And in motorsport, pretty words don’t build careers.
Being good at listening to advice is no less important than being fast on the track
Since motorsport – unlike some school programs – is not a “restricted admission degree” in a hypothetical checklist of qualities for a boy or girl approaching our sport, what might constitute grounds for “rejection” by a parent, manager, or coach?
It’s true: motorsport has no closed number. But that doesn’t mean everyone is ready, or should be encouraged the same way. Pre-selection exists—it’s just not formal: it’s human, behavioral, educational. And it often should start with serious parents, managers, or coaches.
There are some conditions that, more than technical limits, are red flags. Not because they make racing impossible, but because they make building a healthy path very hard.
The first is a lack of enjoyment in the process. If a kid wants to race only to win, to show off, to “be someone,” but can’t tolerate training, sacrifices, study, mistakes… then they’re not ready. Motorsport is for those who love the journey, not just the finish line.
A second reason for rejection is total lack of self-criticism. When every mistake is the car’s fault, the tires’, the team’s, the referee’s, or the weather’s, the problem isn’t technical – it’s cultural. Without taking responsibility, there’s no growth possible.
Then there’s a very delicate issue: family management. An over-present, invasive parent who makes choices for the kid, argues with teams and instructors, lives their child’s career as personal revenge… is often more damaging than a slow lap. In some cases, more than rejecting the kid, you need to stop the context.
Another strong signal is inability to handle comparison. Those who see every teammate as an enemy, who emotionally collapse when someone faster arrives, who stop working because “I’m not the best anyway,” rarely survive a truly competitive environment.
Finally, I’d say lack of consistency. Not in results, but in attitude. Spur-of-the-moment enthusiasm, patchy commitment, goals changing every month. Motorsport doesn’t forgive intermittent approaches: it demands mental continuity before financial.
The important thing is this:
A “rejection” should never be a condemnation, but protection. Sometimes stopping or delaying a path is the most responsible act an adult can take.
Because you can always learn to race. But becoming ready to race? That takes maturity, time, and honesty.
Training consistently, taking care of the body, sleeping, eating well, studying the data, arriving prepared: without discipline, it is impossible to achieve goals
Once the desire and firm determination to “be a Pro driver” are clear, what are the very first goals you advise working on? Biographies of many great champions in various sports, especially motorsport, start with rough beginnings—races where they got lapped, etc. How would you approach the so-called “awakening” phase? That is, when the track and races start giving their first lessons…
When the desire is clear and determination real, the first goal isn’t winning or going fast right away. The first goal is learning to be on track—mentally before technically.
At the start, I always advise working on three very simple but fundamental bases.
The first is building method. Get used right away to preparing for a test day or race: arrive with a clear goal, organize sensations, understand what went well and what didn’t. Even after a tough day, the kid must leave with at least one lesson learned. Without method, experiences are just emotions.
The second is accepting comparison. Early races often hurt: you get lapped, make mistakes, feel out of place. It’s normal. In fact, it’s educational. The point isn’t avoiding blows, but understanding what they teach. Every second lost has a reason, and finding it is already part of the job.
The third is training patience. In motorsport, growth times are never immediate. Those who start strong often delude themselves; those who start struggling, if they stay clear-headed, build stronger foundations. The so-called “awakening” is exactly that moment: when the track puts you in your place and forces you to choose if you really want to keep working.
I would never dramatize that phase. I’d approach it with great calm, explaining to the kid that the track doesn’t judge—it measures. It doesn’t tell you who you are, but where you are today. And tomorrow can be different.
That’s where the true driver forms: when they stop seeking excuses or shortcuts and start asking the right questions.
What can I improve?
What am I not understanding?
What can I do better next time out?
If at that moment the kid stays curious, present, motivated, then the blows stop being humiliations and become lessons. And in motorsport, the harshest lessons often lead to the biggest leaps.
We’ve saved it for last: at some point, as we’ve noted in this column, you must make the right technical choice because if you have the right predisposition, sacrifices, work, and even underlying talent, without the right machine, you risk falling behind—no fooling ourselves. What should guide us in choosing the “racing package” (championship; team; machine; category), in relation to our personal journey?
It’s a very honest question, and it’s right to address it without hypocrisy: in motorsport, the machine matters. Pretending otherwise helps no one. But that’s exactly why choosing the “package” must be done lucidly, not anxiously or chasing trends.
The first criterion must be coherence with your journey’s stage. There’s no absolute “best” championship—there’s the right one for that kid, at that moment. Skipping a category too fast or picking a context bigger than you risks turning opportunity into a brake.
The second guide is the environment’s quality, even before pure performance. A team that explains, works methodically, knows how to wait and correct is often worth more than half a second per lap. Especially in formative phases, growing well matters more than appearing right away.
Then there’s the technical machine, evaluated realistically. You don’t need the absolute “top” package if you can’t exploit it. A competitive but manageable machine, letting you understand what’s happening, make mistakes, and correct, is often the smartest choice. The best investment is what teaches you most, not what makes the most noise.
Another key aspect is real measurement opportunity. A good championship challenges you but doesn’t crush you. Where you can compare with peers and similar levels, see where you stand, work on limits. If you’re always last or always first without fighting, something’s off.
Finally, I’d say choose looking two or three steps ahead, not just the current season. Ask: does this path prepare me for what? Does it leave growth margin? Does it make me credible for the next step?
The right package accompanies you, doesn’t drag or overwhelm. And when chosen well, even tough moments become part of a bigger picture.
In motorsport, it’s not who burns stages fastest that wins, but who traverses them all intelligently. And choosing well where to race is already part of the job.
