Gil de Ferran, two-time IndyCar champion and 2003 Indianapolis 500 winner, serves as Editor-At-Large for RACER magazine, for which he writes a regular column offering his views on a range of motorsports topics. This is what he wrote for our latest magazine, The Great Teams Issue, on sale now. -Ed.

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It’s no secret that I love racing, but I do often think, “Why do I love racing?”

It’s kind of a pointless exercise, really. Going around in circles, trying to beat each other, burning tires, fuel…risking your life, others risking their lives. Springs, dampers…

Really?! Who cares? What’s the point?

Well… I know there are millions around the world who feel the same way as me, but I guess I can only really speak for myself.

There are many things that appeal to me about racing. First, stating the obvious, I love cars and all things mechanical. I love the creative process and I’m fascinated by what humans can create. Second, I enjoy exploring and pushing boundaries. In racing, as in any sport, any competition, if limits aren’t explored, no success will come.

Lastly, it’s the intensity and certainty of racing. Thankfully, I’ve never been to war, real war that is, but the cycle of a racing season feels like a war, where races are battles culminating in a championship. With clear winners, it’s not subjective – performance is empirical. It feels like life compressed, accelerated. Yes, it’s a lot of pressure, but there’s no parallel I know of for the excitement of being in the heat of “battle.”

Sure, I’m looking at it from a driver’s perspective. But, regardless of how good the driver is, he’s driving something – that something usually being a car. That car has to be designed, manufactured, developed, maintained and optimized, as well as being well driven. In the higher echelons of our sport, it takes many many people to accomplish this – a race team. Therefore, we’re really talking about a hyper-intense competition between teams, every two weeks or so, with clear winners.

Having been around the block a few times, I believe that racing, in many respects, exaggerates the positives or negatives of a team’s performance. There’s nowhere to hide deficiencies; the numbers will show them and your competition will exploit them. A race weekend will show very clearly your shortcomings as a team, so it’s the perfect laboratory to judge the performance of collective human endeavors. Bad organization, you lose. Poor management, you lose. Not enough knowledge, you lose.

Perhaps you work at a successful company, or even run one. Or maybe you’re still at school. Regardless, it’s likely you’re part of a team, like 99.9 percent of the planet, and you’re wondering what makes a good race team? Well, without further ado…

Every good race team I’ve ever come across has had a strong leader. By strong, I don’t mean dictatorial; I mean a person who is visible, communicative, inspiring, and embodies everything the team stands for. This person sets the tone and culture for the whole company and leaves no one in any doubt what the company’s all about, what it’s doing and where it’s going. They live, act and breathe everything the team stands for, making the vision very clear.

Further, at a lower level, other “leaders” carry the same message and behave in the same way as the head honcho. Problems usually occur when there’s a disconnect between these influential people, and the messages start to conflict.

Adam Smith (an 18th century Scot who kind of invented economics) postulated that humans are driven by self-interest, and I agree. But the best teams are able to align those personal interests with team interest.

Take fear, for example. Some pressure to perform, which comes naturally in racing, is good; it keeps the mind sharp and alert. But fear of losing your job at every juncture chokes a team. Everyone goes into survival mode, becomes more concerned about looking good at every opportunity; the team is no longer the primary concern, survival is…

This next one seems obvious, but maybe it isn’t? A clear understanding by each individual of how their personal contribution will affect a team and, similarly, understanding what everyone else is doing can totally affect team performance. It needs to be clear to all: Where are we going? What are we doing? How and when are we doing it? And who’s doing what? Forget slogans and speeches, day-to-day, face-to-face conversations and actions are what count.

Like in the military (I think), the chain of command has to be clearly defined, with clarity on who makes which decision. In contrast to a top-down organization, where orders roll down the chain, the best race teams give room and a clear understanding of when and how individuals can contribute with their own ideas. It should be clear when it’s the time to chat and brainstorm, and when it’s time for heads-down action.

Yes, you must document things carefully, but the real knowledge and know-how of a team is usually contained within a few members, the “elders.” Lose them and it’s a completely different organization: accumulated knowledge and processes are gone; continuity and learning suffer, and performance suffers. Overlap the careers of brilliant elders, let them groom younger members, and a team continues to evolve.

Race teams suffer from the same issues that every leading edge company has: Where’s the next big idea coming from and who’s generating it? A brilliant individual? A group effort? Where’s that touch of genius?

There’s no easy answer. I’ve seen success massively influenced by a single individual, and by well-tuned teams of people. Picking one thing which I believe is a critical common factor in all successful, creative initiatives, I’d say it’s understanding the problem. You can’t come up with a cool solution if you don’t have the clear understanding of what you’re trying to solve.

I promise I’ll stop soon…

At the end of the day, it’s simple: if every “I” is performing at a high level, you’re good. Respect, motivation, engagement, attitude and energy is what counts on an individual level. If you don’t have these, it’s no go. But if you do have them throughout the team at a high level, you’re off to the races. Or, better still, off to drink some of that creamy, non-alcoholic beverage they serve at a certain Midwestern town on Memorial Day.

And if you’re wondering, it’s served cold.

• Gil de Ferran on racing heroes and life lessons