Per May 3, 2004 Issue of Autoweek, ppg. 50-51. Or Here.
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Born To Race: Remembering Ayrton Senna, 10 years later
By NIGEL ROEBUCK
In Bahrain, with Imola next on the schedule, Rubens Barrichello was inevitably asked for his thoughts on Ayrton Senna, his friend and mentor, who was killed in the San Marino Grand Prix on May 1, 1994. Barrichello paused for a second or two. "It’s 10 years since Ayrton died," he said, "but in a way, for me, he has always been present. It’s not that I think about him every day, but, being a Brazilian, you live with Ayrton Senna every day."
Michael Schumacher—with six titles and 74 wins to date—is unapproached by any driver in F1 history. Senna’s statistics—three titles, 41 wins—fall short. But there is more to it than that.
Talking recently about Schumacher, Stirling Moss said he doubted there was ever a time when one driver was so clearly head and shoulders above his rivals. True, but you could contend Schumacher has had it relatively easy in that sense. Not his fault, of course, but an accident of history. Fangio had his Moss, Senna his Prost, and Schumacher his... who? Mika Hakkinen most nearly fits the bill, but not quite. Undoubtedly, we were on the verge of one of the sport’s legendary rivalries when Senna died at Imola. Here was Ayrton, the grand seigneur, under threat from Michael, the enfant terrible. Ultimately, of course, the torch would have passed, but Martin Brundle, Senna’s archrival in his F3 days, believes we would never have seen it.
"Ayrton was the best," he says, "but any racing driver reaches his peak, sustains it, then begins—perhaps imperceptibly to the outside world—to slide down the other side. There would have come a day when Ayrton realized he was no longer quite what he had been, and he’d have quit immediately."
Senna once said, "I was designed to win. I was not designed to come second or third." If any driver of that generation were destined to go out on his shield, it was he.
Where Schumacher is admired, Senna was loved. Nationality was no hindrance, of course—to be a romantic figure will always come easier to a Brazilian than a German—but, beyond that, Ayrton had charisma to throw away. A warrior on the track, still, when you spoke with him, you were always aware of his vulnerability. For aficionados everywhere, the combination was magnetic.
Ayrton Senna da Silva’s driving was poetic. In the course of his 10-year F1 career, he became a figure of mythical proportions, not only for his artistry in a car, but also for the intensity of ambition. It is the more remarkable, therefore, that Senna almost chose a different career.
Besotted with racing as a child, he showed exceptional talent in karting, and in 1981, at 21, he graduated to cars, undertaking a season of Formula Ford in England. Senna amply showed his ability, winning 12 of 19 races, but both he and his young wife adapted poorly to life away from Brazil. They went home before the end of the season. Back in Sao Paulo, Senna felt disinclined to pursue any career that meant living abroad, and for a while contemplated a prosperous and secure future in his family’s building supply business. Early in 1982, though, a call from England offered the opportunity to return, to move up a class, and it was the turning point in Senna’s life. "If I was going back," he said, "I knew it would be different this time. I would go all the way. In the end I took a deep breath, and said, ‘Okay, we go for it.’"
This time, Senna flew into Heathrow alone. "If I was going to make it to F1," he said, "I had to give it all my time and attention. I couldn’t do that if I was married, so we parted."
At the time, it sounded chillingly hard-nosed, and indeed Senna’s frankness never lost its power to disturb. "What I really cared about was my career, and I gave up a lot of important things for it: my marriage, living in Brazil, being with my family and friends. To justify that to yourself isn’t easy."
He never came to terms with life in Europe. As his wealth grew, he moved from a modest house in Surrey to an apartment in Monte Carlo, and finally to Faro, Portugal, where the Portuguese language provided a semblance of home.
The wealth came quickly, for Senna progressed effortlessly through the junior formulas. He dominated as he went, and by 1984 was an F1 driver with the Toleman team. At Monaco, only his sixth Grand Prix, he was catching Alain Prost for the lead when the race was halted due to bad weather. As he stood in the rain, receiving his trophy from Prince Rainier, there was no joy from a rookie’s brilliant drive, merely sulky dismay that he had been robbed.
Senna was a strange one from the beginning, and his presence unsettled many fellow drivers. In any sport, some resentment is inevitable when a newcomer of such talent arrives; the establishment likes a fellow who shows proper respect, and Senna never paid much heed.
There was something further about him too worrying the others: an indefinable quality borrowed not only from his driving, but also from his voice, his manner, his being. In truth, though, what most worried them was the uncomfortable certainty that soon this arriviste would be the best.
Senna scored his first Grand Prix win at Estoril in 1985, and, appropriately, it was a drive for the gods. By now he had dispensed with Toleman, and moved to Lotus, where he stayed three years. Winning the odd race, though, was not what he had planned. His mind was set on the world championship, and in the late ’80s that meant driving for McLaren. At the time the team’s No. 1 driver, Prost, was also the world’s No. 1. Senna would partner the Frenchman for 1988, and thus was nitro introduced to glycerin.
Initially there was little friction. Although they reduced the world championship to a fight between themselves, relations were cordial enough. Each learned lessons, however. Senna was shocked to discover the driver of an identical car could sometimes beat him and Prost faced not only Senna’s raw speed, but also his ruthlessness.
This was an artist, yes, but also a street fighter. In Estoril, at 190 mph, Senna blatantly swerved towards Prost to discourage him from passing. It didn’t work, but Prost was shaken by the experience. "If Ayrton wants the world championship that badly," he said afterwards, "he can have it."
Senna took it by the narrowest of margins. Prost won it back in ’89, but by now their relationship had disintegrated to the point that another season together was untenable. Prost left for Ferrari.
As his stature grew, Senna’s life became more rarefied. Sometimes he seemed to have little touch with reality. "That’s a lie!" he once exclaimed when shown a photograph of a track incident for which he was clearly at fault.
Never in doubt, though, was his genius. Two more world championships followed, and for years Senna earned around one million dollars every time he raced. There were also business interests in Sao Paulo, his staff occupying seven floors of a skyscraper. People such as Frank Williams and McLaren’s Ron Dennis said Senna was as inflexible in a boardroom as he was on the track.
"I learned my lessons," Senna smiled. "Once, in my negotiations with Ron, we were one and a half million dollars apart, and he suggested we flip a coin. I lost..."
There was, however, another side to this most complex of men, who could mesmerize an audience as easily with his voice as with his sublime driving. The man who would sometimes use unacceptable tactics on the track would weep at a small gift from a shy fan. He might read his Bible throughout a long flight, but forgiveness was not his strong suit.
Toward the end, though, there were signs of Senna’s mellowing, of his recognizing a life and time beyond motor racing. Following Prost’s retirement in 1993, Senna left McLaren for Williams, a move he had wanted for some time. Perhaps, too, Prost’s absence relaxed him. The feud wore on both men, although Senna always rebuffed Prost’s rapprochement attempts. Only after Prost’s final race did Senna shake his hand.
He did it again at Imola, on race morning. Roland Ratzenberger’s death in qualifying the previous day affected Senna deeply, and he proposed the drivers meet in Monaco to discuss urgent matters of safety. It was a moment for comradeship.
Prost was at Imola as a TV commentator, and shed tears at the events at the Tamburello corner on the seventh lap. "It was so strange," he said. "We had the warmest conversation I can ever remember. For the first time, I felt he really wanted to be friends."
Senna was leading when the accident came. "It was what he was born to do." said McLaren’s Jo Ramirez, a close friend. "To lead, to be first, to be fastest. That’s the way he was, and he was never going to change."
-------------------------------------------------
Born To Race: Remembering Ayrton Senna, 10 years later
By NIGEL ROEBUCK
In Bahrain, with Imola next on the schedule, Rubens Barrichello was inevitably asked for his thoughts on Ayrton Senna, his friend and mentor, who was killed in the San Marino Grand Prix on May 1, 1994. Barrichello paused for a second or two. "It’s 10 years since Ayrton died," he said, "but in a way, for me, he has always been present. It’s not that I think about him every day, but, being a Brazilian, you live with Ayrton Senna every day."
Michael Schumacher—with six titles and 74 wins to date—is unapproached by any driver in F1 history. Senna’s statistics—three titles, 41 wins—fall short. But there is more to it than that.
Talking recently about Schumacher, Stirling Moss said he doubted there was ever a time when one driver was so clearly head and shoulders above his rivals. True, but you could contend Schumacher has had it relatively easy in that sense. Not his fault, of course, but an accident of history. Fangio had his Moss, Senna his Prost, and Schumacher his... who? Mika Hakkinen most nearly fits the bill, but not quite. Undoubtedly, we were on the verge of one of the sport’s legendary rivalries when Senna died at Imola. Here was Ayrton, the grand seigneur, under threat from Michael, the enfant terrible. Ultimately, of course, the torch would have passed, but Martin Brundle, Senna’s archrival in his F3 days, believes we would never have seen it.
"Ayrton was the best," he says, "but any racing driver reaches his peak, sustains it, then begins—perhaps imperceptibly to the outside world—to slide down the other side. There would have come a day when Ayrton realized he was no longer quite what he had been, and he’d have quit immediately."
Senna once said, "I was designed to win. I was not designed to come second or third." If any driver of that generation were destined to go out on his shield, it was he.
Where Schumacher is admired, Senna was loved. Nationality was no hindrance, of course—to be a romantic figure will always come easier to a Brazilian than a German—but, beyond that, Ayrton had charisma to throw away. A warrior on the track, still, when you spoke with him, you were always aware of his vulnerability. For aficionados everywhere, the combination was magnetic.
Ayrton Senna da Silva’s driving was poetic. In the course of his 10-year F1 career, he became a figure of mythical proportions, not only for his artistry in a car, but also for the intensity of ambition. It is the more remarkable, therefore, that Senna almost chose a different career.
Besotted with racing as a child, he showed exceptional talent in karting, and in 1981, at 21, he graduated to cars, undertaking a season of Formula Ford in England. Senna amply showed his ability, winning 12 of 19 races, but both he and his young wife adapted poorly to life away from Brazil. They went home before the end of the season. Back in Sao Paulo, Senna felt disinclined to pursue any career that meant living abroad, and for a while contemplated a prosperous and secure future in his family’s building supply business. Early in 1982, though, a call from England offered the opportunity to return, to move up a class, and it was the turning point in Senna’s life. "If I was going back," he said, "I knew it would be different this time. I would go all the way. In the end I took a deep breath, and said, ‘Okay, we go for it.’"
This time, Senna flew into Heathrow alone. "If I was going to make it to F1," he said, "I had to give it all my time and attention. I couldn’t do that if I was married, so we parted."
At the time, it sounded chillingly hard-nosed, and indeed Senna’s frankness never lost its power to disturb. "What I really cared about was my career, and I gave up a lot of important things for it: my marriage, living in Brazil, being with my family and friends. To justify that to yourself isn’t easy."
He never came to terms with life in Europe. As his wealth grew, he moved from a modest house in Surrey to an apartment in Monte Carlo, and finally to Faro, Portugal, where the Portuguese language provided a semblance of home.
The wealth came quickly, for Senna progressed effortlessly through the junior formulas. He dominated as he went, and by 1984 was an F1 driver with the Toleman team. At Monaco, only his sixth Grand Prix, he was catching Alain Prost for the lead when the race was halted due to bad weather. As he stood in the rain, receiving his trophy from Prince Rainier, there was no joy from a rookie’s brilliant drive, merely sulky dismay that he had been robbed.
Senna was a strange one from the beginning, and his presence unsettled many fellow drivers. In any sport, some resentment is inevitable when a newcomer of such talent arrives; the establishment likes a fellow who shows proper respect, and Senna never paid much heed.
There was something further about him too worrying the others: an indefinable quality borrowed not only from his driving, but also from his voice, his manner, his being. In truth, though, what most worried them was the uncomfortable certainty that soon this arriviste would be the best.
Senna scored his first Grand Prix win at Estoril in 1985, and, appropriately, it was a drive for the gods. By now he had dispensed with Toleman, and moved to Lotus, where he stayed three years. Winning the odd race, though, was not what he had planned. His mind was set on the world championship, and in the late ’80s that meant driving for McLaren. At the time the team’s No. 1 driver, Prost, was also the world’s No. 1. Senna would partner the Frenchman for 1988, and thus was nitro introduced to glycerin.
Initially there was little friction. Although they reduced the world championship to a fight between themselves, relations were cordial enough. Each learned lessons, however. Senna was shocked to discover the driver of an identical car could sometimes beat him and Prost faced not only Senna’s raw speed, but also his ruthlessness.
This was an artist, yes, but also a street fighter. In Estoril, at 190 mph, Senna blatantly swerved towards Prost to discourage him from passing. It didn’t work, but Prost was shaken by the experience. "If Ayrton wants the world championship that badly," he said afterwards, "he can have it."
Senna took it by the narrowest of margins. Prost won it back in ’89, but by now their relationship had disintegrated to the point that another season together was untenable. Prost left for Ferrari.
As his stature grew, Senna’s life became more rarefied. Sometimes he seemed to have little touch with reality. "That’s a lie!" he once exclaimed when shown a photograph of a track incident for which he was clearly at fault.
Never in doubt, though, was his genius. Two more world championships followed, and for years Senna earned around one million dollars every time he raced. There were also business interests in Sao Paulo, his staff occupying seven floors of a skyscraper. People such as Frank Williams and McLaren’s Ron Dennis said Senna was as inflexible in a boardroom as he was on the track.
"I learned my lessons," Senna smiled. "Once, in my negotiations with Ron, we were one and a half million dollars apart, and he suggested we flip a coin. I lost..."
There was, however, another side to this most complex of men, who could mesmerize an audience as easily with his voice as with his sublime driving. The man who would sometimes use unacceptable tactics on the track would weep at a small gift from a shy fan. He might read his Bible throughout a long flight, but forgiveness was not his strong suit.
Toward the end, though, there were signs of Senna’s mellowing, of his recognizing a life and time beyond motor racing. Following Prost’s retirement in 1993, Senna left McLaren for Williams, a move he had wanted for some time. Perhaps, too, Prost’s absence relaxed him. The feud wore on both men, although Senna always rebuffed Prost’s rapprochement attempts. Only after Prost’s final race did Senna shake his hand.
He did it again at Imola, on race morning. Roland Ratzenberger’s death in qualifying the previous day affected Senna deeply, and he proposed the drivers meet in Monaco to discuss urgent matters of safety. It was a moment for comradeship.
Prost was at Imola as a TV commentator, and shed tears at the events at the Tamburello corner on the seventh lap. "It was so strange," he said. "We had the warmest conversation I can ever remember. For the first time, I felt he really wanted to be friends."
Senna was leading when the accident came. "It was what he was born to do." said McLaren’s Jo Ramirez, a close friend. "To lead, to be first, to be fastest. That’s the way he was, and he was never going to change."
