‘Some PRs won’t be happy until MotoGP is just a corporate event, stripped of its beauty and soul’

Clashes between journalists and PRs are inevitable, because they have contradicting objectives. Journos want to dig into what’s going on, while a PR’s job is to protect the brand. Truth isn’t their number-one priority.

Like George Orwell wrote, “Journalism is printing what someone else does not want printed. Everything else is public relations”.

The world’s first PR person was American Edward Bernays, who during World War I was hired by the US government to sell the idea of the country entering the war, when most Americans weren’t keen. He was so successful that he set up the world’s first PR agency after the war.

Among his numerous corporate gigs, Bernays was employed by the US tobacco industry to get women smoking, because at that time few women smoked. He consulted a Freudian psychoanalyst and promoted cigarettes to women as ‘torches of freedom’. This campaign was another big success.

Bernays’ work spawned a global PR industry that now works in every sphere of human endeavour.

Press relations – as Bernays proved – is a psychological game: you tell journalists selective truths, giving them information you want them to have, while hiding information you don’t want them to have. You cultivate friendships with journalists, because if they like you, they just may be nicer to your brand. And you stay friends, even if you hate their guts, because that’s a game.

Also useful is the possession of a vague idea of how journalism works. That’s why some of the best PRs are former journalists, who swapped sides to make more money. “Journalism is more fun,” one journo-turned-PR told me. “But PR is much more lucrative.”

The Red Bull KTM team is one of MotoGP’s best – hugely dedicated, massively hardworking and well looked after by its management. It enjoys possibly the best morale of any factory team. There’s always a buzz in the KTM garage – the mechanics really enjoy what they do and usually give a friendly nod when you walk down pit lane.

Its riders Brad Binder and Jack Miller are great to talk to and its engineers are generous with their time when you want a quick chat behind the garages. And I’ve had some great interviews with motor sport director Pit Beirer, engine designer Kurt Trieb, technical director Sebastian Risse, crew chief Paul Trevathan and others.

I last interviewed Risse (whose nickname in the team, which includes several Sebastians, is Clever Seb) during last November’s Malaysian GP.

The full interview was published on this site a while back, running to more than 2200 words. The print magazines I work for – in Europe, the USA, Australia and Japan – are more restricted on space, so I had just 500 words to cover each manufacturer, including rider and engineer quotes.

If an editor says he or she wants 500 words, you write 500 words, not 499 or 501. Magazine writing has to be tight, with quotes edited for clarity and brevity. I’ve been doing this for more than forty years, so I think I have the general idea.

PRs who try to control me by telling me what to write is like me walking into the KTM garage and telling the mechanics how to tighten the RC16’s brake bolts. I’d rightly get a slap.

And yet a KTM PR thought it a good idea to tell me how to do my job. This PR accused me of making “misquotations” in my magazine story and asked me to contact my editors, so they could make “the necessary corrections to reflect what was said accurately”.

At first, I thought it was a joke because I still have the tapes and transcripts of the interviews.

But I take the attack seriously. KTM asked these magazines to correct my text. I have no contracts with any of the magazines that publish my stuff, so I’m only ever as good as my last story. And why would an editor want to employ a journo who changes quotes to alter their meaning? Because that’s a serious crime in this job.

The attack seemed especially perverse because my story was very complimentary about KTM’s MotoGP project – “It’s a fantastic motorcycle to ride,” said Miller.

There’s a reason you never read quotes like this: because they’re ugly to read, they make the speaker sound ridiculous and they use twice the space, so the story would contain half the information.

This is why I don’t like PR people telling me how to be a journalist.

As already noted, the story praised KTM’s valiant attempts to beat Ducati. Perhaps its PR geniuses would’ve been happier if I’d more accurately reflected KTM’s recent efforts in MotoGP and written this instead…

‘Despite massive investment from KTM and Red Bull, working with Red Bull Advanced Technologies (arguably the world’s foremost motor sport aerodynamicists), having one of the best riders on the grid and taking some of the key brains from MotoGP dominators Ducati and Öhlins, KTM is the only manufacturer not to have won a single dry-weather grand prix in almost three years, since June 2021. Even Honda and Suzuki have won more dry GPs in that period.’

During the Sepang tests I had a lively, er, conversation with KTM, in the hope they’d realise their accusations were false. The PR doubled down, so I suggested KTM sues me, so we could go to court and let the experts decide. My offer was declined.

When I got home from Sepang I contacted the magazines that had published the story, because KTM wanted them to make corrections, where possible.

And this is when things got really funny.

The first of my editors that contacted KTM’s PRs told them he had reviewed the transcripts and story and saw no need for any corrections. It provoked this response from KTM’s motor sport PR chief.

“To be clear on this – nobody from KTM clarified that the new chassis was a carbon fibre chassis in 2023 and we were surprised and disappointed to read it as a quote from an official KTM spokesperson.”

So that’s it! KTM engineers weren’t allowed to use the term carbon-fibre to describe the RC16’s new frame, even though everyone was talking about it.

Risse and I spent more than three minutes talking specifically about the carbon frame. He went into some detail describing how it improved the bike but couldn’t actually say carbon-fibre.

How wild is that?!

KTM’s PR wonks had gone wonky – they were in a terminal tank-slapper, triggered by diametrically opposing brainwaves.

What I would’ve given to be sat in that PR/marketing meeting…

“Ladies and gentlemen, our genius MotoGP engineers have designed a genius new frame, so our genius marketing plan is to ban our genius engineers from mentioning their genius creation to anyone. Even though everyone already knows about it.”

“Dude, you’re a marketing genius!”

High-fives all round.

I assume that following this great meeting of the minds the KTM PR team gave KTM’s actual chief MotoGP engineer a bollocking for not telling me that the carbon-fibre frame didn’t exist.

Talk about the tail trying to wag the dog.

And now the crowning glory to this comedy wild-goose chase.

A few weeks after my chat with Risse, another journalist interviewed Risse and he did say the word that should not be said. (I wonder if the crack PRs returned to the office of their actual chief engineer to give him another bollocking.)

So, the PR boss was being economical with the truth when he told me that, “nobody from KTM clarified that the new chassis was a carbon fibre chassis in 2023”.

These people have their knickers in such a twist that I wonder how they get out of bed in the morning.

One last thought: a PR’s job isn’t only to establish good relations with journalists, it’s their job to promote MotoGP to a wider audience.

Considering that motorcycle racing is currently the world’s 30th most popular sport (after horse dressage!), I believe these PRs would be better spending their time trying to grow the sport – by getting stories in mainstream magazines and so on – instead of chasing after journalists for petty nothings.

Finally, I’d like to wish Red Bull KTM all the best for the 2024 season. They’re a great bunch of people (mostly) and I’d love to see them winning GPs again.