I see Sidepodcast dot com are running a series entitled Days That shook The F1 World - and the second article, posted yesterday, is about the death of Ayrton Senna. It was a terrible day for the sport, an event that shocked all F1 fans and, for weeks afterwards, my mind refused to accept that he had truly gone. He was so much the representative of all that was good about motor racing that, well before the end of his career, he was regarded almost universally as a contender for the title of "the greatest of them all".
The strange thing is that I was in the anti-Senna camp when he first entered F1. There was a feeling, probably similar to our present irritation with the hype surrounding Lewis Hamilton, that nobody could be that good and who was this upstart anyway? His confident statements came across as arrogance and most of the drivers of the time were of the opinion that he needed to be taken down a peg or two. I agreed, at the time.
Ayrton won me over against all my previous doubts and biases. Normally, I notice a driver very early on and follow his progress enthusiastically, usually because of a particular performance that stands out. I was sold on Keke Rosberg, for instance, by his win in the downpour-affected 1978 BRDC International Trophy - in a Theodore, no less, and against all the big names. Nelson Piquet earned my support by thrashing the over-estimated Niki Lauda when they were team mates at Brabham - and eventually causing the champion to walk off into his first retirement from the sport. And Jean Alesi gained thousands of fans when he hauled the uncompetitive Tyrrell past Senna's McLaren at the Phoenix GP in 1990.
It was Piquet who made it so difficult for me to accept the genius of Ayrton Senna. There was no love lost between the two, Piquet once describing Senna as "that Sao Paulo taxi driver", and it was hard to see the fastest Brazilian to date being beaten by his young compatriot. But beaten he was and, eventually, I had to admit it. Ayrton was just too good to ignore.
There are few who would argue against Senna being the quickest driver of his time but there was more to him than that. There was an aura of certainty about him, a clear view of his own abilities and an understanding that there was more to life than just motor racing.
On the track, he was superb, winning races with an ease that seemed superhuman. Many of his race wins were in cars that were not the best and this is where he differs from so many recent champions. Prost, for instance, could win in the best car but he could also lose in it; Senna would fight his way to the front in almost anything.
In time, I came to see Ayrton as probably the best F1 driver ever. His achievements, although not as statistically impressive as Michael Schumacher's, were gained against serious opposition, often a team mate in an equal car. He brought techniques to F1 driving that the rest have had to learn and he died long, long before we were ready to see an end of his awe-inspiring skill. In our minds, he had become immortal and his sudden demise was the greater shock because of it.
It may well be true that those whom the gods love die young - it is the only explanation that makes any sense when we consider how Ayrton was taken from us. The memory of that Sunday afternoon when it became clear that the great man had departed is still hard for me to understand. I suppose I have accepted his death now, but it was a long and bitter time before I could face it. F1 lost some of its glory that day, a day that shook the world indeed.
The strange thing is that I was in the anti-Senna camp when he first entered F1. There was a feeling, probably similar to our present irritation with the hype surrounding Lewis Hamilton, that nobody could be that good and who was this upstart anyway? His confident statements came across as arrogance and most of the drivers of the time were of the opinion that he needed to be taken down a peg or two. I agreed, at the time.
Ayrton won me over against all my previous doubts and biases. Normally, I notice a driver very early on and follow his progress enthusiastically, usually because of a particular performance that stands out. I was sold on Keke Rosberg, for instance, by his win in the downpour-affected 1978 BRDC International Trophy - in a Theodore, no less, and against all the big names. Nelson Piquet earned my support by thrashing the over-estimated Niki Lauda when they were team mates at Brabham - and eventually causing the champion to walk off into his first retirement from the sport. And Jean Alesi gained thousands of fans when he hauled the uncompetitive Tyrrell past Senna's McLaren at the Phoenix GP in 1990.
It was Piquet who made it so difficult for me to accept the genius of Ayrton Senna. There was no love lost between the two, Piquet once describing Senna as "that Sao Paulo taxi driver", and it was hard to see the fastest Brazilian to date being beaten by his young compatriot. But beaten he was and, eventually, I had to admit it. Ayrton was just too good to ignore.
There are few who would argue against Senna being the quickest driver of his time but there was more to him than that. There was an aura of certainty about him, a clear view of his own abilities and an understanding that there was more to life than just motor racing.
On the track, he was superb, winning races with an ease that seemed superhuman. Many of his race wins were in cars that were not the best and this is where he differs from so many recent champions. Prost, for instance, could win in the best car but he could also lose in it; Senna would fight his way to the front in almost anything.
In time, I came to see Ayrton as probably the best F1 driver ever. His achievements, although not as statistically impressive as Michael Schumacher's, were gained against serious opposition, often a team mate in an equal car. He brought techniques to F1 driving that the rest have had to learn and he died long, long before we were ready to see an end of his awe-inspiring skill. In our minds, he had become immortal and his sudden demise was the greater shock because of it.
It may well be true that those whom the gods love die young - it is the only explanation that makes any sense when we consider how Ayrton was taken from us. The memory of that Sunday afternoon when it became clear that the great man had departed is still hard for me to understand. I suppose I have accepted his death now, but it was a long and bitter time before I could face it. F1 lost some of its glory that day, a day that shook the world indeed.