On this week #18: Ayrton Senna
Just as everyone had their ‘Kennedy moment' more than 60 years ago, most people in motorsport have their ‘Senna moment' right now: the crystal clear recollection of where they were and what they were doing at 2:17pm on May 1, 1994: the moment when Ayrton Senna crashed at Tamburello corner at Imola, a suspension component on his Williams piercing the Brazilian's helmet and extinguishing the life of the three-time world champion. For many, he was the greatest driver who ever lived.
This author was at university, enjoying an afternoon out with friends (unusually, rather than watching the race) when another friend ran over to where we were sitting and said breathlessly: “Have you heard the news?”
Everyone, even those not into racing, was cramped around our ancient television a few hours later as the dreadful outcome was confirmed. There are countless stories like that among the motorsport community, although most of the drivers on the current F1 grid (13 of them, to be exact) weren't even born on the day that Senna died, which seems somehow incredible. Yet 30 years ago is another era: back then, most people didn't have mobile phones and the internet was still in its infancy.
So, what of Senna's legacy now, three decades after his life was cruelly snuffed out? Had he lived, Ayrton would be 64 this year, and it's very hard to imagine what he might have been doing. His spiritual side was an integral part of the appeal that he commanded, but this also makes it hard to imagine him having fitted in with the corporate and commercial world that makes up modern F1.
It's unlikely he would have been a team boss, and even more improbable that he would have held a position in any federation or organising body; given that he spent a lot of his time antagonising them. He may have taken on a role that was somehow ambassadorial or involved mentoring younger people, but it feels somehow more feasible that he would have done something entirely different that had little to do with motorsport; maybe centred around politics or a social cause.
His love for his Brazilian homeland and the Senna Foundation (which was thought of before his death) suggests that this is where he would have returned, helping his compatriots to live better lives.
Of course, Senna was no saint - as most who worked or raced with him knew - and while his confidence on track was supreme, it seemed that what he wanted most of all was to be loved off it; hence the famous Senninha cartoon that became a role model for a nation.
While his racing statistics were spellbindingly impressive, his raw results on paper weren't the absolute best in Formula 1 history, surpassed since by the Schumachers and the Hamiltons of this world; and even Max Verstappen (Max has already overtaken Senna's total of 41 career victories and is beginning to home in on Senna's previous benchmark of 65 poles).
But it's never numbers that create a legend; statistics have no intrinsic value and records are there to be broken. Instead, it was Senna's charisma that marked him out as an extraordinary leader of men and talisman for fans worldwide. His totemic status is what made his death so traumatic; like Jim Clark, just over 25 years earlier, his achievements and persona made people somehow think that he was almost immortal. Especially when he spoke so eloquently about his relationship with God and how when driving he entered an almost transcendental state. This sort of talk was not how mere mortals behaved, especially in the increasingly data-driven world of Formula 1.
His death (not his accident, which was eminently survivable, even back then) was as shocking as a brick through a bedroom window, coming off the back of a hellish weekend in Italy, which has been extensively documented over the years but is still shocking to think about now. To this date, Senna is the only Formula 1 world champion ever to have been killed in a grand prix (excluding Jochen Rindt, who only became 1970 world champion after he died).
And yet, as is the case with everyone cut down in their prime, his premature passing – after the initial stupefaction - has only cemented Senna's legend. He will be perpetually young, always and forever the great champion with a gaze cast towards eternity, remembered at the height of his powers by people who never even knew him. Such as the legions of young fans who have watched films such as the mesmerising Senna and heard stories of why Lewis Hamilton, among many others, started racing with a bright yellow helmet: the mere sight of which in a rear view mirror was enough to intimidate many racers into submission throughout the 1980s and 90s, who knew what – or rather who – was coming.
Those of a more supernatural mindset are still captivated now by Senna's other-worldly way of thinking; there are many who believe that the Brazilian somehow had a premonition of his own death. Certainly for me, the most moving – and perhaps disquieting – aspect of that Imola weekend is how Senna took time before the race, in a live broadcast from inside his Williams, to pay tribute to his “dear friend” Alain Prost, who was commentating for French TV at the time, seemingly putting a final end to the feud that had dominated motorsport headlines in recent years.
About 10 years earlier, on Sunday 25 March, 1984, the Brazilian had made his Formula 1 debut at Jacarepagua in Brazil, with Toleman. It lasted eight laps before a turbo failed, yet the beginnings of the hero he would soon become were firmly in place.
Senna was 24 when he first sampled F1 machinery – considered to be very young back then – and it happened with the Pirelli logo on his overalls. In the end, he drove for relatively few races on the Italian tyres, because Toleman switched tyre manufacturer later in the year – as was quite common back then.
His subsequent ascent through the ranks was rapid: he mastered the speed needed to win between 1985 and 1987 with Lotus, as he racked up his first pole positions and victories. The six years at McLaren that followed were both heaven and hell, resulting in three titles but also the rivalry with Prost, which drove him to the brink of paranoia.
Senna's duels with Nigel Mansell also passed into motorsport history: Mansell was one of the few rivals that Senna genuinely considered to be at his level, but the Englishman was helped by a Williams that seemed invincible. That preyed on Senna's mind: it took him until 1994 to finally got his hands on that Williams, and he had a clear mission to get back on top of the world championship. Instead, it ended in tragedy, while Michael Schumacher, driving for Benetton at the time, would lift his first title (having also won the fateful Imola race; only his fourth-ever F1 race victory).
Damon Hill, Senna's Williams team mate at the time, probably had the most considered perspective on Senna's last weekend: both physically and psychologically. Hill concluded: “He was complex. There were things he hadn't worked out for himself; what his purpose in life was. He was wholly a racing driver, but he was also concerned about things that were way greater issues than what was going on in F1. With his compassion and humanity, he was one of those people who would fight for whatever he felt was right in life. And here comes the slight contradiction, because some of the things he did in F1, I didn't agree with. He would get angry and take the law into his own hands a little bit. Then there was Ayrton's state of mind that weekend. He was deeply affected by Roland's death the previous day and there were apparently other things in his life. And when you get to critical mass with the things that conspire against you, something has to give. Jackie Stewart persuaded me to Ayrton's funeral – the last funeral I had been to was my dad's – and it was one of the most stunning exhibition of emotions for one individual I have ever witnessed.”
Thirty years on, nothing has really changed. There will be other, perhaps even more successful, drivers. But nobody will be remembered with the same amount of affection.
