If you don't believe me, try saying with conviction Williams, Force India, Virgin Racing, HRT (as in Hispania Racing Team, as opposed to the menopause treatment). It's just not the same, is it?
Why should Ferrari evoke such feeling?
Maybe it's purely onomatopoeic, the very combination of the letters and syllables. Nothing called Ferrari could be stationary or boring. A cat called Ferrari would be feisty, a dog unruly, a person dynamic.
Yes, for me, my love of Ferrari is in the name, but not just for the way it sounds. It is whose name it represents. It is Enzo Ferrari's name: enthusiastic driver, astute businessman, sublime manager, master manipulator. An Italian patriarch. Il Commendatore. Doctore Inginere. The Old Man.
Enzo Anselmo Ferrari was born in 1898. Exposed to the fledgling world of automobiles from an early age, Enzo soon developed a desire to race, and he headed off to Turin to realise his destiny.
Frequenting the bars and cafes patronised by many of the leading drivers, team owners and managers of the day, Ferrari ingratiated himself into the heady world of roaring-20s motorsport. He had soon talked himself into driving for an embryonic sportscar manufacturer called CMN.
He used his moderate success as a springboard for his eventual move to Alfa Romeo, initially as a driver, then as a team manager/salesman/unofficial company ambassador.
It was Ferrari's skill in convincing more talented drivers than himself to join Alfa Romeo that propelled the team up the competition ranks.
Unfortunately, as so often happened in the gung-ho atmosphere of the time, tragedy intervened. The death of Antonio Ascari at the wheel of an Alfa Romeo during the 1925 French Grand Prix prompted the team's withdrawal from official competition, although Ferrari kept the fires burning by entering non-works customer cars over the next few years.
He did so with just enough success to convince Alfa Romeo to re-enter the arena, both as a factory team and a supplier of machinery to Ferrari to race under his own banner. And so, in Modena on November 15, 1929, the Scuderia Ferrari (Ferrari racing stable) was born.
Now a major player in the motor industry, Ferrari used his influence and business acumen to attract both top personnel to Alfa Romeo - legendary designer Vittorio Jano and the pre-eminent driver of the post-war era, Tazio Nuvolari, to name but two - and sponsorship money for the Scuderia.
Another milestone in this period was Ferrari's first use, in 1932, of the iconic Cavallino Rampante logo.
Legend has it it was presented to Enzo several years earlier as a good luck token by the mother of the late Italian World War 1 flying ace Francesco Baracca, whose squadron's insignia was a black horse.
Ferrari added the yellow background, representing Modena.
In 1938, just as the Germans were starting to dominate, Alfa Romeo made the fateful decision to purchase the Scuderia and make it the official factory team. What should have been a match made in heaven quickly turned sour, as German technology proved no match for Italian passion, and Ferrari was unceremoniously fired in 1940.
Banned from racing or trading under his own name under the terms of his split from Alfa, Ferrari tuned to machinery fabrication under the name Auto Avia Contruzioni until the restriction expired. In 1943, he rekindled the Scuderia, relocating it to a small town outside Modena, Maranello, where it remains.
Despite being bombed twice by the Allies, the little Maranello factory survived the war and Ferrari's fortunes began to improve, until, by 1947, he was able to realise his dream of producing a car under his own name.
By 1950, the first year of the official Formula One championship, Ferrari was back in the vanguard of motorsport.
Alberto Ascari, son of the late Antonio, finished fifth in the drivers' standings, followed it up with second place the following year, and in 1952 led a Ferrari blitz, the top four drivers in the standings all piloting the machines from Maranello. The rest, as they say, is history.
By the time The Old Man, as he had come to be known, died in 1988, Ferrari had won no fewer than eight F1 drivers' titles (Ascari, 1952, 1953; Juan Manuel Fangio, 1956; Mike Hawthorn, 1958; Phil Hill, 1961; John Surtees, 1964; Niki Lauda, 1975, 1977; and Jody Schekter, 1979) and eight constructors' titles. The team had also won every sportscar event that mattered: The Mille Miglia, the Targa Florio, Daytona, and, of course, the Le Mans 24 Hours.
Ferrari's death marked the end of an era, as ownership of the company passed to Fiat and its fortunes on the track dwindled.
Some thought it was the beginning of the end.
It was, ironically, about this time my love affair with the scarlet cars began. Although I was a motoring enthusiast (OK, petrolhead, if you must) from a young age, I was raised on tales of Denny Hulme and Bruce McLaren ("They were New Zealanders, son") and their exploits in the mighty orange Can-Am racers in North America and on the Formula One circuits of Europe, and hence felt an obligation to support the McLaren F1 team.
But the fact is, by the mid-80s, McLaren was, and still is, little more than a vehicle (excuse the pun) for the ego of Ron Dennis, an Englishman with no allegiance to our brave Kiwi boys.
My heart simply was not in it.
It was not until the late '80s that I realised the history and passion which the new-look McLaren lacked could be found in spades at Ferrari. The story of Enzo Ferrari - his pride, his passion, his sheer force of personality and his triumph through adversity and tragedy, both personal (the death of his brother in World War 1 and his son, Dino, at the age of 24) and professional (no fewer than seven drivers were killed at the wheel of his Formula One cars during his lifetime) - is as compelling as any in sport.
And then there's the New Zealand connection: the third member of the Flying Kiwis F1 triumvirate, Chris Amon, drove for the Maranello concern from 1967 to 1969, garnering the "best test driver I ever had" quote from The Old Man himself (although Amon may have been damned with faint praise, given his more infamous reputation as" the best driver never to win a race").
It was all the convincing I needed. I nailed the Scuderia's colours to my mast, little knowing F1's flagship team was in the midst of a 21-year drivers' title drought, despite the best efforts of Alain Prost and, my personal favourite, the enigmatic Il Lione, Nigel Mansell.
But Ferrari is nothing if not enduring, and I knew it was only a matter of time before the prancing horse would be represented atop the standings.
And so it was to be: in 1999, Ferrari won the constructors' championship, a year before Michael Schumacher won the first of his five consecutive drivers titles with the team, a fact which would have pleased Mr Ferrari no end (he always cared more for the constructors' title, believing it proved his cars were better than their drivers!).
Yes, the 21st century has been the best time to be a Ferrari fan, but I'm not going to gloat. You never know when the next 21-year drought might happen.
And, as Mr Ferrari himself used to say, at least when you're losing you're learning how to win ...
So I'm in for the long haul, safe in the knowledge that, as long as there is Formula One there will be Ferrari, and as long as there is Ferrari there will be glory. An entire nation's self-esteem depends on it. Just ask the tifosi.
Forza!
Andrew Morrison
- ODT sub-editor
• Team: Ferrari
• Sport: Motorsport
• Fan since: Late 1980s
• Favourite driver: Nigel Mansell
• Greatest moment: Michael Schumacher winning his fifth straight F1 title in 2004
• Been to Maranello?: Er . . . no. Been to Italy, though!
