by David Finlay (16 Oct 03)

You've probably heard the theory about six degrees of separation. Think of somebody you know: that's one degree. Then think of somebody that they know: that's two degrees. Apparently you can find a link between yourself and anyone who has ever lived - the Pope, Mother Teresa, Adolf Hitler, Britney Spears or whoever - by the time you reach the sixth degree.

I quite like this idea, and I've been trying to find a route from myself to someone of global fame and significance in the motoring world by this method. Despite the simplicity of the theory, it's not been easy. Part of the problem is that simply having met someone isn't really good enough. I've been presented with a bottle of champagne by Jackie Stewart, been given a driving lesson by Martin Brundle, and argued over lines in a saloon car with David Coulthard, but while these are useful topics of conversation over dinner they all involve just one degree of separation. I must try harder.

In fact I have tried harder. I haven't worked out a six-step route yet, but I can get to Jacques Villeneuve (whom I've never met) in five. The chain of acquaintance has a very unlikely start, which to my mind makes it even more satisfying.

Here goes, then. The head of music at my school was a chap called Andrew Kinloch, who died a few years ago in his eighties and is much missed. I have a history of not getting on well with many of my teachers, but Andrew was different, partly because he was so obviously a hugely talented musician himself and partly because he didn't behave the way most other teachers did.

The reason for that was that he didn't get involved in the profession until he was thirty, having previously worked in the textile industry and therefore gained a lot of life experience outside the academic world, which I'm sure is why I responded so well to him. Having moved into education, he became passionate about it for the rest of his life, and I think he was disappointed that I didn't follow his advice about becoming a music teacher myself.

Pushing People On

Andrew is unknown outside a small local circle, but his influence on the music profession was enormous. In a charming way, he would bully people into joining the various choirs and orchestras that he conducted, and some of his victims went on to have long and successful careers in the business. One example of this is Lorna Anderson, a brilliant soprano who has made countless recordings over the years.

Another, no longer with us, was an operatic bass called David Ward, or "Big Davey" as Andrew described any of his pupils who, like myself, were called David and were taller than he was. Big Davey Ward died before I really knew who he was (though I do remember seeing him in a television performance when I was very young), but he was famous throughout the world as a superb singer.

Ward did not originally intend to become a professional musician at all - he just liked singing. But he also knew Andrew, who characteristically decided that a voice like that shouldn't be heard only in the local pubs and cajoled its owner into taking the whole thing more seriously, with dramatic results.

Ward's nephew has the same name but is known to his friends as Dave Ward. At this point I should admit that I'm cheating here in that I've known Dave Ward for several years and could therefore have cut out two degrees of separation, but that would have spoiled the story.

Anyway, when I first got to know Dave he owned a hotel where several of us would gather to have lunch most days. Now, though, he's a PE teacher, and in fact that was what he also did before he moved into the hotel trade. We've since worked out that, when he was a student, he was very briefly my PE teacher. Since I was one anonymous face among many, Dave doesn't remember this very well, which is all to the good because PE vied with Woodwork as being my worst subject at school.

One More Move

Dave trained at the Scottish School of Physical Education at Jordanhill in Glasgow, and this is where the fourth degree of separation comes in: one of his fellow students there was Craig Pollock, who subsequently went on to teach at a school in Switzerland.

Most F1 fans will see what's coming next. In Switzerland, one of Pollock's pupils was Jacques Villeneuve. Pollock became his manager, and later the founder of the BAR Grand Prix team, and may be presumed to have earned a bob or two from these activities over the years.

Myself to Villeneuve in five steps. Not bad, though I know someone who can make a still better claim. One of the people I used to have lunch with at Dave Ward's hotel was a friend called Alan Scott, who enabled me to get started in racing by charging far too little for the work he did on my cars. Alan is also a talented golfer who once beat Gary Orr before Orr turned pro.

Since then, Orr has in his career beaten Ernie Els, who in turn has beaten Tiger Woods. Alan absolutely does not pretend that he is therefore a better golfer than Tiger Woods, but I'm happy to use it as a claim to fame if nobody is impressed that there are five degrees of separation between me and Jacques Villeneuve.

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