I want to begin by admitting that in the past I have been extremely critical of Minardi boss Paul Stoddart, as regular readers of pitpass will be well aware. That said, as one who has long had a 'soft spot' for the little team from Faenza I was delighted to see them saved from extinction at the start of the 2001 season.

At a time when F1 was (rightly) celebrating Mark Webber's stupendous achievement in getting the PS02 into the points at the 2002 Australian GP, the rejoicing was somewhat overshadowed by a squalid, public row over money. The rights and wrongs of this issue are not important right now suffice to say that in the months that followed I grew heartily sick of Mr Stoddart's constant protestations and whingeing, and I was not alone.

Around the time of the recent Canadian GP however I began to have second thoughts, certainly one or two things that the Australian said got me thinking. I contacted my good friend, Minardi PR Graham Jones and asked if he could schedule a 'face-to-face' with the Minardi boss, I wanted to see for myself what the man is all about.

What follows is the result.

Chris Balfe

Days before the start of the 2001 season I travelled up to Brackley to do an interview with Jacques Villeneuve. On arrival, apologetic PR people advised me that the Canadian was awaiting a final seat fitting in addition to a number of important meetings and that consequently I'd have to wait around for a couple of hours. To my great surprise I was ushered into Craig Pollock's office, though the (then) team boss was away on business, and left to my own devices.

Other than a Villeneuve helmet, a couple of strategically placed F1 books and a model car, it could have been any high-flying executive's office. It was cold, sterile and gave little away.

On a beautiful sunny June morning as I entered the entered the office of Minardi boss Paul Stoddart, I felt I'd walked into a new home from home. The shelves were lined with various helmets, not simply Minardi drivers, while there were model cars and books everywhere. Some of the models were the expensive BBR hand-built variety, including a wind tunnel size model of Schumacher's 2001 championship winning Ferrari, but there were also plenty of cheap die-casts. The paintings and drawings on the wall bore the signatures of a number of champions along with race posters and various other memorabilia.

Within minutes of meeting this man I knew that he was a true fan, for his office, his HQ, resembled my study and indeed the studies of thousands of other race fans around the world, packed with F1 treasures lovingly collected over the years.

Surprisingly I didn't see a computer, though a TV screen showed the international exchange rates at the close of business the previous day and a fax machine noisily spewed out document after document.

Sporting a blue lumberjack shirt that your average F1 team mechanic wouldn't wear to work in the garden, the Australian moved around the desk to greet me, "coffee?" he asked. He disappeared and left me to look at his 'treasure trove', unfortunately I didn't have pockets big enough to conceal the items that really excited me.

"I have to begin this by apologising," I said, "I've given you a pretty hard time in the past."

"No problem," he replied, lighting a Benson & Hedges cigarette.

Despite the fact that a week previously in Canada he'd been involved in one of the most public (yet thrilling) dog-fights in F1 history, with his team seemingly on the brink of collapse as others appeared to go back on their word, and until the intervention, of the sport's supremo, Paul Stoddart had agreed to give up part of his Saturday to a journalist who had constantly criticised him for his whinging.