The Pit Radio Principle

🛠️A Sharp Model

Mental Mosaic transforms ideas into tools for high-agency leaders.

Rather think about when Christmas decorations come down. Focus your emails on main lede, why, ask, and go deeper.

F1 is humans operating at the edge of physics: split-second decisions at 200+ mph where millimeters matter and mistakes are catastrophic. On race day, the driver is the visible decision-maker, but behind them sits a distributed brain: dozens of engineers monitoring telemetry, strategists calculating probabilistic outcomes, pit crews rehearsing 1.9-second tire changes.

The team radio is their shared nervous system: clipped, profane, decisive. When a driver ignores an instruction or a strategist miscalls a tire strategy, millions of dollars and championship points evaporate. F1 teams communicate as if every message costs something, because it does.

We communicate like attention is infinite, because we’ve never measured the cost of being unclear.

Years ago, I was in an executive meeting discussing a troubled transaction. The financial reporting was poor. Forecasts didn’t reconcile. A large order kept slipping, which executives believed could save the company. The discussion drifted into context: weak management, poor product-market fit, and whether a consultant could help. Hundreds of emails had likely preceded the meeting.

Then the CEO interrupted.

“How much did the company make in its best month this year?”

Someone answered quietly, “$3 million.”

“How much did they spend?”

Another voice, louder this time: “$5 million.”

The CEO paused. “Do we see the issue here? Shut it down.”

Veteran bankers had lost the plot. The obvious signal (cash burn exceeding revenue) was buried under commentary about management quality and external fixes. Those were secondary issues. The numbers already made the decision.

The Cost of Ambiguity

For entrepreneurs, this kind of clarity is rare. Unclear communication doesn’t just waste time—it loses the deal while you’re still typing. A rambling email to your most significant prospect signals operational confusion. The difference between “let’s move forward” and “let’s revisit next quarter” often lives in how crisply you frame the opportunity.

F1 teams engineered their communication around actual constraints: attention is scarce, decisions are time-sensitive, and ambiguity compounds into disaster. Most corporate communication violates these principles entirely. We bury the decision in paragraph five. We confuse length with thoroughness.

The best emails I’ve seen follow F1 radio discipline. Four components, in order:

The Framework

Main Lede – The decision, the number, the outcome. What matters most.

Why – The 2-3 sentences of context that justify the lede.

Ask – What you need from the reader. Specific, bounded, actionable.

Go Deeper – Optional detail for those who need it, clearly separated.

Here’s what this looks like in practice:

Weak version:

“Hi team, I wanted to give you an update on our Series A process. We’ve been in conversations with several firms over the past few weeks and have received a lot of positive feedback on our traction and vision. Sequoia has been particularly engaged, and we’ve had multiple meetings with the partners. They seem very excited about the space and our approach to solving the problem. We’re getting close to terms and wanted to loop you in on the next steps. There are a few other firms still in the mix, but Sequoia feels like the right partner given their portfolio and expertise. Let me know if you have any questions or concerns about moving forward. Happy to discuss timing and what we need from the board.”

Pit Radio version:

Main Lede: We’re close to signing the Series A term sheet with Sequoia. Valuation being negotiated.

Why: Three credible competitors emerged this week. Moving now gives us first mover advantage and we become the biggest player.

Ask: Need board signatures by Friday COB to meet their partnership meeting deadline.

Go Deeper: Full term sheet attached. Key terms: $15M raise, standard 1x liquidation preference, two board seats.

The first version took 124 words to avoid making a decision. The second took 68 words to make one, explain it, and move forward.

This isn’t about being curt. It’s about respecting that your reader is making dozens of decisions today, and every sentence that doesn’t advance the decision is actively costing them.

The Compounding Cost

In F1, a miscommunication during a pit stop costs 15 seconds and often the race. In business, it costs months.

The six-figure contract dies because your email buried the pricing in paragraph seven. The board meeting was derailed because your deck lacked a clear recommendation. The executive hire walks because your offer email reads like you’re still deciding.

Clear communicators project operational competence and from that power. They signal that you know what matters. You make it easy for others to say yes.