Fan Engagement in the European Le Mans Series

How ELMS is Bringing Fans Closer to the Action, On-Track and Online

The European Le Mans Series has steadily carved out a niche in the world of endurance racing, offering fans an immersive and accessible motorsport experience. As the 2025 season draws to a close, ELMS continues to push the boundaries of fan engagement, combining classic motorsport thrills with innovative interactive experiences

But what is ELMS?

The European Le Mans Series, commonly known as ELMS, is a premier endurance racing championship organized by the Automobile Club de l’Ouest, the same body behind the legendary 24 Hours of Le Mans. The series features multi class racing, where different types of cars compete on the track simultaneously. ELMS races typically last four hours, demanding not just speed but strategy, teamwork and consistency from drivers and teams alike.

​​The championship travels to some of Europe’s most historic circuits, including Spa-Francorchamps in Belgium and Silverstone in the UK, providing fans with iconic backdrops and world class racing action. ELMS also attracts a diverse mix of drivers. From rising stars aiming for higher categories like the World Endurance Championship or even Formula 1, to amateur drivers who bring passion and dedication to the sport.

By blending high level competition with an accessible, fan oriented experience, ELMS has become a series that not only challenges drivers but actively welcomes fans into the heart of endurance racing. What truly sets ELMS apart is how it brings fans closer to the action than almost any other motorsport series. Beyond the on track spectacle, the series has built a reputation for being exceptionally fan friendly, both trackside and online.

ELMS events are renowned for their inclusive atmosphere. Unlike larger motorsport series, the European Le Mans Series offers fans unmatched access to the paddock, garages and even the grid. The grid walk, a highlight for many, allows ticket holders to stand on the track during final preparations, a privilege often reserved for VIPs in series such as Formula 1.

Dedicated fan zones enhance the experience further, featuring interactive exhibits, racing simulators, merchandise stalls and opportunities to meet drivers. These areas are designed to immerse fans in the sport, making them feel like active participants rather than passive observers.

The series has fostered a passionate fan community both online and offline. Fans exchange insights, discuss races and support their favorite teams and drivers across social media and content platforms. The approachable nature of ELMS, combined with its smaller scale compared to F1 or WEC, makes it easier for fans to feel like part of the action, helping to cultivate long term loyalty and excitement around endurance racing.

Looking forward, ELMS is actively exploring innovative ways to boost fan engagement. By expanding interactive zones and embracing emerging technologies such as virtual reality and gamified experiences, the series is dedicated to placing fans at the heart of its development. From immersive on rack activities to digital content available globally, ELMS is transforming the way fans experience and connect with endurance racing.

Flying the Flag

Ireland’s New Generation of Racing Stars

Ireland’s motorsport story runs deep. It’s a blend of raw talent, relentless determination and a touch of the trademark Irish grit. Now, across Europe and beyond, the tricolour is appearing more and more on racing overalls, helmets and podiums; a new generation of Irish drivers carving out space on the international stage. From Formula 3 grids to endurance paddocks, they’re proving that Ireland’s motorsport spirit never faded, it’s simply been waiting for its next chapter.

For years, Irish racing seemed to exist in the shadow of its past. Fans fondly remembered the days of Eddie Irvine, Derek Daly and Tommy Byrne; drivers who made it to motorsport’s biggest stages against all odds. But now, the conversation has shifted. Names like Alex Dunne, James Roe and Adam Fitzgerald are leading a resurgence that feels fresh, fearless and full of potential.

What makes this moment different is the sense of momentum. Irish drivers aren’t just participating, they’re competing, winning and representing Ireland in championships that once felt out of reach. From the tight knit karting circuits of Kildare to the world’s most prestigious paddocks, there’s a new confidence taking hold. Motorsport in Ireland is evolving, and for the first time in a long time, the future looks fast.

Across single-seaters, endurance racing and even American open-wheel series, Ireland’s presence is growing stronger. Alex Dunne, current Formula 2 driver, recent member of the McLaren Driver Development Programme and 2022 British F4 champion, has established himself as one of the brightest young prospects in European motorsport. James Roe has become a fan favourite in IndyNXT, recently testing in IndyCar and proudly flying the Irish flag stateside.

Fionn McLaughlin continues to build his reputation, winning the British F4 championship in his rookie season and debuting in FIA Formula 3 in the coming year. Beyond single-seaters, Irish drivers are thriving in endurance and GT racing, with Charlie Eastwood continuing to impress as part of the Aston Martin factory lineup, regularly competing in world championships and at Le Mans.

Each of these drivers represent more than just an individual success story. They’re part of a collective rise, showing what’s possible when talent meets opportunity. Around them, a new ecosystem of karting programs, sponsors, and grassroots support is slowly taking shape. Young racers are starting to believe that making it to the top is no longer a fantasy.

Of course, challenges remain. Motorsport in Ireland is still heavily dependent on external opportunities. Most drivers have to move abroad to progress. The costs of racing continue to climb, and without a major national series or top-tier circuit, Ireland risks losing talent to countries with stronger infrastructures.

Yet there’s an undeniable sense of hope. The passion for motorsport in Ireland has never been stronger. Mondello Park continues to play a crucial role in developing talent and hosting national events, while initiatives from Motorsport Ireland aim to make the sport more accessible to young drivers. The growing visibility of Irish success abroad is inspiring more kids to start karting, more sponsors to take notice and more fans to follow the sport closely.

And perhaps most importantly, the stories being told, by photographers, journalists and fans, are helping to give Irish motorsport its voice back. The community around racing is expanding, blending traditional passion with a new generation of creators documenting the sport in fresh, creative ways.

Ireland has always been a land of storytellers, and motorsport has found its way into that narrative. From the roar of rally stages through country lanes to the sleek hum of single-seaters across Europe, Irish drivers are writing a new chapter. One defined by resilience, ambition and unity.

The Celtic Comeback

Ireland’s Cultural Renaissance

Across Ireland there’s a quiet resurgence of pride in what it means to be Irish. You can see it in the details. From Claddagh rings gleaming on the hands of young people to Irish phrases popping up in Instagram bios to a new wave of tattoos featuring Celtic knots, ogham script and shamrocks. It’s as if we’re collectively remembering who we are. And this time, doing it on our own terms.

For years, Irish identity was something many of us took for granted, or even shied away from. The globalisation of culture made everything feel universal and rootless, and being “Irish” was often treated as something quaint or old fashioned. But now, there’s a shift. One that feels confident, creative and unapologetically proud. Wearing Irish jewellery and speaking cúpla focal is no longer just about tradition. It’s about connection. To history, to language and to something deeply personal that lived through colonisation, immigration and modern separation.

Irish owned brands are weaving heritage and modernity into everything they make. Silver Claddagh rings are paired with streetwear. Celtic motifs are engraved on minimal gold chains. What was once dismissed as tourist trinketry has become something else entirely.

And then there’s the language. Young people are learning Irish again, not out of obligation, but because they want to. TikTok creators teach daily Irish phrases with humour and pride. Spotify playlists mix Irish lyrics with indie beats.

This movement stretches far beyond fashion or nostalgia. It’s echoed in the music scene. You can hear this cultural revival most vividly in music. Bands like Fontaines D.C. channel the raw poetry of city streets, while Kneecap bring Gaeilge to the forefront with unapologetic pride. These artists aren’t trying to sound “international”; they’re showing that Irishness itself is universal when it’s authentic. They wear their accents proudly, sing about Irish streets and stories and in doing so, invite the world to listen. Not to a stereotype, but to a living culture. Each of these artists, in their own way, is redefining what it means to sound Irish.

On screen, too, Ireland is having a moment. Shows like ‘House of Guinness’ and ‘Derry Girls', and films such as ‘The Banshees of Inisherin’, have transformed Irish storytelling into something that is celebrated rather than stereotyped. Our actors, directors and writers are bringing Irish humour, melancholy and magic to global audiences.

But this revival isn’t just aesthetic or artistic. It’s emotional. For so long, Irish people were encouraged to look outward: to emigrate, to integrate, to seek opportunity elsewhere. Our culture endured through movement and passion. Now, it feels like we’re finally looking inward again - not to the past, but to what’s been quietly growing beneath it. It’s a cultural renaissance built not on nostalgia, but on rediscovery. On pride that isn’t loud, but deeply rooted.

But why now? Maybe it’s a reaction to the pandemic's isolation which caused us to search within and seek importance closer to home. Maybe it’s the influence of social media, which allows the Irish to rediscover their roots and share them proudly. Or maybe it’s simply that we’ve grown tired of blending in. That we’ve realised our language, symbols and sounds are too rich to leave behind.

Whatever the reason, there’s something powerful about this new wave of cultural pride. It’s not about nationalism or nostalgia; it’s about ownership. A generation raised in a globalised world is choosing to reclaim the parts of Irishness that once felt lost.

Breaking Barriers with Bows

Why F1 Academy’s Sanrio partnership proves there’s space for femininity on the track.

The news that F1 Academy will partner with Sanrio for the Las Vegas Grand Prix stopped me in my tracks, but in the best way possible. The thought of Hello Kitty grandstands, pastel coloured merchandise and Sanrio characters reimagined as racing drivers feels like such a breath of fresh air in a space that is so often reluctant to step outside its traditional image. Motorsport, for decades, has been branded as gritty, tough and aggressive. But femininity has always been here too, even if it hasn’t been welcomed or celebrated. This collaboration feels like the start of a long overdue conversation about what “belongs” in motorsport.

For so long, symbols associated with femininity such as pink, bows or even simply being “girly” have been considered out of place in the paddock. Women and girls entering the sport often feel the unspoken rule that they must tone it down, neutralise their personality and ultimately fit into the mould of the existing culture. But why should anyone have to check a part of themselves at the door to be taken seriously? The reality is, a driver with a Hello Kitty helmet or a fan waving a pastel flag has every bit as much passion, talent and legitimacy as someone leaning into a more “traditional” aesthetic. F1 Academy’s partnership with Sanrio proves this point by making femininity visible, and powerful, in a racing venue as large as Vegas.

What excites me most about this partnership is its potential to reach new fans who may have felt that motorsport wasn’t “for them”. When a young girl sees Sanrio characters woven into the sport she’s just discovering, it tells her she doesn’t need to change who she is to belong here. She can love bows, pink and Hello Kitty and love the roar of engines and speed of the track. Inclusivity in motorsport isn’t just about who gets to drive the cars, it’s also about who feels seen in the stands, on the broadcast and in the culture surrounding the sport.

This collaboration challenges the outdated perception that motorsport must remain firmly masculine in its identity. Instead, it offers a reminder that a sport such as racing thrives when it evolves, welcomes new expressions of fandom and makes space for different forms of identity. A grandstand decorated with Sanrio characters doesn’t make motorsport any less serious, if anything, it makes it more exciting, more accessible and more reflective of the diverse fans who love it.

Motorsport doesn’t lose anything by embracing a touch of pink. It gains the chance to grow, to inspire and to welcome people who have been waiting for a signal that their passions belong here too. And honestly? Seeing Hello Kitty under the Las Vegas lights feels like exactly the kind of future I want for racing.

The Fan Dilemma

Is Loving a Sport a Liability?

In sports, passion is a currency; but only to a certain point. Being a fan can spark careers, build networks and drive creative energy. But in the pursuit of professional credibility, is that same passion seen as a strength or a liability?

We are often told to “do what we love”, but what happens when love for the sport makes you seem less serious about it? In sports, an industry built on emotion, does visible fandom make you relatable or replaceable?

The line between supporter and professional is rarely very clear. For journalists, photographers or even creators, the badge of “fan” can both open doors but also quietly close them. Passion brings perspective, but it can also raise doubts about objectivity. If you’re too invested, can you be trusted to tell the story fairly? If you’re not invested at all, do you risk missing the soul of the sport?

Perhaps the real challenge lies in balance. To acknowledge where the love began, without letting it dictate every frame, every word or every decision. After all, sport thrives because people care so deeply. Isn’t it contradictory, then, for an industry powered by emotion to discourage those who show it too openly?

For me, this question isn’t hypothetical. Motorsport has been a constant thread in my life for as long as I can remember Yet stepping into the industry, I’ve felt the need to soften that identity, to present myself as “serious” before “fan.” It’s a strange tightrope: wanting to prove I belong here professionally, while knowing that my enthusiasm is exactly what fuels the long hours, the creative risks and the persistence it takes to carve out a place in motorsport.

Passion is the reason I’m here, but it can feel like the very thing I have to hide. There’s a constant negotiation between showing genuine excitement and maintaining a kind of professional distance. I find myself wondering: if I cheer too loudly, if I let my fandom slip through, will it cost me credibility? Or is that authenticity actually what makes my work stronger.

There Is No Such Thing as a "Man's Sport"

Misogyny doesn't just exist at the highest levels of our sport; It's also a constant presence among fandoms, changing our perceptions just because gender doesn't align with other people's expectations.

For as long as I've been a fan of motorsports, I have always been an advocate for women in racing. It’s been joked about that I am a ‘raging feminist’ and probably care way too much but if I didn’t care then who would?

I was not a particularly ‘sporty’ child. Growing up in rural Ireland, there are only so many sports that children can participate in whether that be Soccer, Hurling or Gaelic Football, most of which were deemed ‘boyish’. It wasn't until I hit my teenage years that I started to gain an interest in sports, particularly motorsports.

Something I instantly noticed within the motorsport world was, and still is, the increasing amount of comments dictating it as a ‘man's sport’. This mindset isn’t just outdated; it’s reflective of a much deeper issue within the culture of the sport. The concept of a ‘man's sport’ is out of date and based on long challenged and disproved societal prejudices. Regardless of gender, sports are for everyone; with the increasing number of women participating in historically male dominated sports showing that motivation and commitment are not limited to gender.

The level of backlash that women face compared to men can be brought back to societal biases. Women having traditionally male dominated roles in the workplace or exhibiting assertiveness in any way often faces scrutiny due to these traditional beliefs. These biases can result in harsher criticism when women challenge norms or succeed in certain fields; particularly sports.

This is especially apparent when looking at how girls, young or not, are introduced to motorsport. So often, the narrative is that they must first prove they ‘belong’ before they're even allowed to just be. I’ve met countless women in this sport, whether online or at the track, working within it or simply as fans, who have, at some point, been questioned or made to justify their place in it. When will it end?

The recent release of the F1 movie only highlighted how far we still have to go. Despite the sport’s push for progress, the film faced immediate backlash for its portrayal of women. It was a evident reminder that even in storytelling, women in motorsport are often sidelined or reduced to background characters, rather than being shown as the passionate and capable individuals we are. It felt as though it was creating harmful stereotypes that have already been plaguing this sport for years; and instead of helping, it played into it. It’s upsetting that in a time where representation should be evolving, especially in a sport striving for inclusivity, it feels as though we are going backwards. It is stereotypes like these that are making the world of motorsports increasingly inaccessible for young women trying to achieve their goals of working in the sport.

Representation matters. Not just for visibility, but because it shifts the boundaries of what’s possible. Seeing someone who looks like you in a racing suit or on the pit wall or behind a camera challenges everything that we have been taught to believe.

Motorsport is evolving, but not quickly enough. For every one success story, there’s a girl who walked away because she felt unwelcome or unheard. And until those voices are as valued as any other in the paddock, my ‘raging feminist’ badge stays firmly in place.

Because I do care. I care deeply; not just about seeing more women on track, but about building a culture where they don’t have to fight twice as hard to stay there. A culture where I am not judged for being a woman, but for my strengths and abilities. A culture where hard work and passion are what open doors; not assumptions or stereotypes.

I care because I know I’m not the only one. And I care because change doesn’t happen unless people speak up and stand firm in the spaces they’ve fought to be part of. So I will keep showing up, not just for myself, but for the ones who are watching, wondering if there’s space for them too.

Did the F1 Academy Docu Series do Women in Motorsport a Disservice?

Exploring how narrative choices shape public perception in women’s racing.

Netflix's announcement of a documentary series on F1 Academy was welcomed as a much-needed opportunity to highlight the upcoming generation of female drivers. For a sport that has long been criticised for its lack of diversity, the series offered advancement, opportunity and visibility. However, the discourse swiftly changed after it was released. Unprecedented access to the drivers and inner workings of the all-female championship was provided by the show, but it also generated controversy about how these women were portrayed, which stories were given priority and if the series ultimately aided or hurt the cause it claimed to support.

One of the most disappointing aspects of the docu series was its complete exclusion of F1 Academy’s inaugural season in 2023. The series failed to acknowledge the foundation that was laid in that first year, particularly by drivers like Marta García, who won the championship and played a pivotal role in setting the standard for the series. By ignoring this important chapter, the series missed an opportunity to provide essential context and celebrate the progress and achievements that made the current season possible. Marta García’s championship win, for example, was more than just a personal achievement; it was a symbol of possibility and progress, inspiring countless aspiring female racers worldwide. This absence not only diminishes the historical narrative but also undermines the importance of representation and the ongoing fight for equality in motorsport.

What made the docu series truly frustrating was how it prioritised manufactured drama over genuine storytelling, sacrificing the authentic experiences of the athletes in favour of sensationalised rivalries that never really existed. It felt as though the producers were more focused on crafting a reality TV-style drama than authentically portraying the athletes and their journeys. The editing suggested rivalries between drivers and teammates that didn’t seem to exist in reality, which undermined the integrity of the series and detracted from the core message of supporting and promoting women in motorsport.

Now, while I don’t consider myself a huge fan of Bianca Bustamante, it was clear the series positioned her as a sort of ‘villain’ or controversial figure. The emphasis on her social media presence was disproportionate and seemed to suggest that her online following was her main focus, completely ignoring the fact that she actively uses her platform to fund her racing career, which is an unfortunate necessity for many young drivers today. This lack of nuance did her a disservice and felt like a missed opportunity to explore the financial realities of motorsport.

Additionally, I found the portrayal of Bianca’s performance coach quite troubling. His comments came across as dismissive. He appeared disengaged and unsupportive and the show failed to highlight any constructive or encouraging interactions from him. This portrayal clashed with the empowering narrative the series claims to promote and raised concerns about the kind of support systems being presented to young athletes.

One of the most disappointing aspects of the series was how it tried to reduce Amna and Hamda Al Qubaisi to little more than a “rich girl” stereotype, overshadowing their true dedication and accomplishments in motorsport. While it's true that motorsport requires significant financial backing, framing the sisters primarily through the lens of wealth undermined their athletic credibility and years of hard work in junior categories. The show could have explored their journey with more balance, acknowledging their resources while still giving credit to their talent, resilience and achievements. Instead, the focus on their lifestyle risks alienating viewers from understanding the full scope of their commitment to the sport.

Overall, while I’m sure there are some positive aspects to the series, it just wasn’t for me. It had the potential to shine a light on an important and inspiring part of motorsport, but instead, it focused too much on drama and stereotypes that didn’t feel genuine. For someone who cares about authentic stories and meaningful representation of women in racing, this just didn’t hit the mark. Hopefully, future projects will do a better job of telling these stories with the respect and depth they deserve.