I can close my eyes and see an elderly Italian couple sitting in the infield grandstand at the exit of 2nd Lesmo at Monza. It’s Friday afternoon when all the grandstands are free and the atmosphere is fantastic. The couple is well dressed, he in a softly checked sport coat, tan slacks, a doeskin vest, white shirt, and necktie, she is a blue dress, heels and a pillbox hat. They are reserved and quiet until one of the Ferraris rolls slowly by on a warm up lap. Then they both applaud politely. At the time I didn’t speak enough Italian to find out who they were. They were old enough to have been at the track in the immediate postwar era and have seen Nuvolari, Fangio, Ascari and all the other heroes of the time. Wonder if they did.
I can close my eyes and see the exit of the Tamburello corner at the racetrack at Imola. My wife and I had traveled from the West Coast to Paris, spent the night and taken the train Paris-Milan, then Milan-Bologna. We arrived on Saturday afternoon. An Italian friend had arraigned race tickets and hotel reservations, we checked in to the hotel, returned to the train station and bought open r/t tickets to Imola the next day. Sunday is a wonderful late spring day in central Italy. We arrive at the track at 10:00 AM or so. Our seats are in the Tribune Verde on the back side of the track. The sun is shining, it’s probably 80F, the crowd are normal Italians, people with ice chests and red shirts, Ferrari banners and Ferrari caps. Imola is ground zero for Ferrari F1 fans. The track is the closest F1 venue to the factory and the locals are all Tifosi. Across the track from the grandstand called Tribune Verde is a small group of Brazilians, they have a Brazilian flag on a long pole and a good natured dialog begins. The infield fence is packed with racefans. The guy with the flag moves up and down behind the fence, no one on our side of the track can see him, every so often he raises the flag and begins to wave it back and forth, as soon as the Italians on our side of the track spot the Brazilian flag they erupt into a chorus of boos’ and Italian imprecations. When the noise reaches a certain level the flag disappears and the crowd quiets. Then the flagbearer moves 30 feet or so, waits a few minutes and repeats the process. Everyone is laughing, cheering and having a good time. Soon enough some of the Italians decide to turn the tables. Shortly after the flag disappears a group on our side of the track stands and begins waving their flags, chanting, Ferrari, Ferrari. The Brazilian has perfect timing, at exactly the right moment he raises his flag and all the Brazilians begin chanting the name of their hero driver Ayrton Senna. “Senna, Senna, Senna,” All the people in two hundred feet of grandstand are laughing and chanting. Of course if you are an F1 fan by now you’ve figured out that it was 1994 and events in the race changed F1 forever.
I can close my eyes and see the exit of the Tamburello corner.
It’s a sweeping lefthander at the end of the front straight taken at very high speed, the sort of corner that the great drivers really relish because doing it right is dangerous and quickly separates the great from the good. Very few average or bad drivers ever get the chance to drive an F1 car. Senna is leading a few laps into the race, right on his tail is the budding German driver Michael Schumacher. The safety car comes out due to a pit accident, when the race resumes Senna begins to pull away. His Williams-Renault is clearly faster than the rest of the field. At the exit of the Tamburello he for some reason still unexplained leaves the track and slides nose first into the retaining wall at probably 130mph. It seems to take forever for the parts that come off the car on impact to quit falling. The crash really doesn’t look as bad as others I’ve seen. I am watching through my telephoto lens expecting Senna to climb out and wave to the crowd or at worst to be put on a stretcher and taken away in the ambulance. The chassis doesn’t appear to be compromised but unfortunately the right front wheel detaches, flies back toward the driver and one of the suspension components punctures his helmet. The F1 medical unit arrives in seconds. Senna is taken by helicopter to one of the best hospitals in the world but his injuries are fatal. Michael Schumacher goes on to win the race. In the next years he sets every significant F1 record and become seven time F1 Champion, twice for Benneton and five times for Ferrari. In Sao Paolo Brazil a 15 year old girl commits suicide. All Brazil mourns.
Personal note: The year before (1993) our son went to Europe. He attended two F1 races, the first at Spa in Belgium and the second two weeks later at Monza. The same friend who got us out tickets to Imola got my son a pit pass for the GP at Monza. Now you must understand that we are pretty much ordinary folks, and getting a pit pass to a GP is no mean task. So when my son had a chance to talk with several of the drivers and get close to the cars it was a very moving experience for him. He describes a five minute conversation with Ayrton Senna. Senna spoke with my son as an equal, My son said it was like talking to a good friend and it’s a moment he treasures above most things in life.
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