MOTOR SPORT FLASHBACK — F1’S UNCIVIL WAR
THE PROFESSOR SCHOOLS AYRTON IN THE WAYS OF WAR — NOT SO MUCH STEALTHY NINJA AS KAMIKAZE
Idon’t recall the precise details — hell, it was three decades ago — but, on a Sunday in late October 1989, the main floor of the Auckland Car Club rooms was overflowing and, as I arrived, the anticipation level was noticeably high. Sky TV was still nine months away, so, in New Zealand, watching Formula 1 (F1) events live was a novelty. That alone made the drive to Stoddard Road worthwhile, but there was more than just the chance of watching a Grand Prix (GP) live, because the season thus far had witnessed the greatest feud in the history of motor racing.
In the 1930s, Italy’s two dominant drivers, Tazio Nuvolari and Achille Varzi, actively and openly loathed one another, but they never drove for the same team or had a world title go down to the wire. In more recent years, there were suggestions from some in the media that the relationships between Lewis Hamilton and both Fernando Alonso and Nico Rosberg were akin to the Prost/senna deal. Not even close …
Not only did Alain Prost and Ayrton Senna go to Japan as the only two drivers in line to be 1989 world champion, but they went as members of the Mclaren team. I hesitate to use the term ‘teammates’, for it had been a precarious relationship even before the San Marino GP in April. After the events of that race (refer to Motor Sport Flashback,
New Zealand Classic Car, Issue No. 340) there were rumours that each was waking a little earlier each day, just so he could dislike the other that little bit longer.
Prost, who had been world champion in 1985 and 1986, had already announced that he would be a Ferrari driver in 1990, thus bringing an end to his six successful years at Mclaren. Senna had won the title in 1988 in his debut season with Mclaren, and, while he generally had the edge on the Frenchman in qualifying, Prost’s race craft was superb. He wasn’t called ‘The Professor’ for nothing, and the gap between them was much smaller than it had been in 1984 and 1985 when Prost was the quick young new guy and Niki Lauda was the cunning old incumbent at Mclaren.
When the V10 ruled and Honda was king
Such was the dominance of the V10 Honda–powered Mclarens that, coming into the Japan GP, they’d won all but four of the 14 rounds. Ferrari’s Nigel Mansell had won twice, while his teammate Gerhard Berger had had one win, as had Williams-renault driver Thierry Boutsen. Despite winning six races, Senna trailed Prost by 16 points, because the Frenchman, in addition to his four victories, had made seven other visits to the podium. Senna could still be champion, but he would need to win both remaining races, and would be crowned even if Prost was second each time. As he’d already done 11 times in 1989, Senna took pole position — the challenging Suzuka Circuit suiting him perfectly — but, while not quite as quick, Prost arguably had the better race set-up. Once again, Mclaren locked out the front row, but it was Prost who made the better start, thus negating the Brazilian’s pole position.
Capoeira versus savate
The mood in the club rooms was relatively subdued for much of the race as Senna closed on the leading Prost, but, on lap 40 (of 53), the gap closed after the Brazilian had taken on fresh tyres. It appeared that Prost may have eased up, meaning that the benefit of Senna’s new rubber had been largely nullified. For the next five laps, they were about a second apart, but, on lap 46, a roar went up that most of Mount Roskill would have heard. As Prost braked for the chicane just after the wonderful 130R corner, Senna made his move; whereas, once, the Frenchman might have ‘left the door open’ so as to avoid team cars colliding, now he had nothing to lose. Neither backed down, and the inevitable ‘coming together’ resulted.
The club rooms came alive as it emerged that not only had their wheels locked but both had also stalled as they’d come to rest at the entry to the chicane approach road, which they now both partially blocked. Prost unbuckled himself and commenced the walk back to the pits, presumably comfortable in the belief that he would be taking the coveted number one of the reigning world champion to Ferrari in 1990. After gesturing to the marshals to push him down the escape road, Senna used the momentum to try to restart his engine. It fired immediately, and the clubhouse went nuts — but that was nothing compared with the levels of elevated emotions that would soon follow. Senna headed down the escape road, weaving around the chicane bollards on his way for almost another full lap before stopping back at his pit to replace the damaged front wing.
The Benetton of young Italian Alessandro Nannini was now leading; his Ford V8 was not giving the power of V10 Hondas and Renaults, or Ferrari’s V12, but the overall package had been a light and largely reliable one. That brought another dimension, as we wondered whether, after the drama, we might be about to witness a debut win. Such, however, was Mclaren’s dominance that, despite the pit stop, Senna emerged only five seconds behind. By total coincidence, Senna closed in on Nannini at the exact corner where he’d collided with Prost a few laps earlier. The Italian knew that there was no point in fighting, so Senna was back in front — the world championship was alive as mixed emotions flashed around the room. For the ‘Senna can do no wrong’ camp, there was no question that justice had prevailed. Meanwhile, Prost’s devoted followers wondered how this would play out, and the independents, who included me (and this group comprised a tiny minority) quietly contained a sinking feeling that we wouldn’t be seeing a new winner. Bitterness intensifies
Shortly after the race concluded, discussions started: had Senna missed the chicane, and, if so, what would the penalty be? No one needed reminding that disqualification would mean Prost would be crowned world champion and there would be no showdown in Adelaide. A quick decision was made, and Nannini was sent to the top step of the podium. Mclaren subsequently appealed, between the Japanese and Australian GPS; not only was the decision upheld, but Senna was also handed a US$100K fine plus a suspended six-month ban. As if all of that wasn’t enough, he was branded a ‘dangerous driver’. There was a whiff of foul play, because the president of Fédération Internationale du Sport Automobile (FISA) was, like the newly crowned world champion, a Frenchman. That only intensified the bitterness. If anyone thought this would be the end of the drama, given that the protagonists wouldn’t be teammates in 1990, then they got that wrong — very wrong.
Car Week
The bucket list got a tick recently after a taste of Car Week on the Monterey Peninsula in northern California. I’d been told, “The racing at Laguna Seca is only a small part of the whole thing” and so it was, with so many events that you could fill a week and
If anyone thought this would be the end of the drama, given that the protagonists wouldn’t be teammates in 1990, then they got that wrong — very wrong
never so much as see a racing car move. For us, however, the focus was very much the racing, but we started with breakfast on Friday morning at Bonhams prior to the 10am commencement of proceedings. We’d seen plenty of Bonhams auctions on TV, so even the auctioneers were familiar faces as was the overall process. There was much drooling to be done as we walked among the cars on the lawn before breakfast. Most cars had a price-guide range, but, generally, those that didn’t would achieve the biggest numbers. A Porsche 718 RSK, a 1959 central-seat sports car, got up to US$3.7M (that’s near enough to NZ$5.7M) and set off a buzz through the marquee when it was passed in.
Not all cars on offer were in this league, and we were astonished when a 1961 E-type Jaguar went for a mere US$65K, exactly half of the lower end of the expected range. Of the cars that we witnessed sell, without doubt the most spirited of bidding was over a 1951 Ferrari 340 America Vignale Coupe Speciale that had been in single family ownership for over 50 years and was bought by a European collector for US$3.635M. We’d left before the unique Ford-powered Mclaren M6B Can-am car was rolled onto the stage, but we heard that it made circa US$400K. On the subject of Mclaren, on our way to Laguna Seca, we gatecrashed a function at the Bernardus Winery, name-dropping our way in, where it was great to catch up with Bruce’s daughter Amanda and her husband, Stephen Donnell.
Time to stop and watch
The Rolex-sponsored historic meeting at Laguna Seca each August has, for some years now, been firmly established as one of the premier historic car racing events on the planet. An enthusiast could have their fill just walking through the paddock, but, because
this circuit has one of the most iconic series of corners in motor racing, it was up to the top of the Corkscrew for us in search of a good view and some shade. The event was everything that had been anticipated, and we watched a number of races from the very top before wandering back down, taking in the vantage points along the way. As is often the case with historic racing, the front guys are generally close to the limit, while those at the back are nowhere near — but it’s irrelevant, because the quality and quantity of the cars are what make it. Next year, they’re celebrating Mclaren, and that makes a return visit extremely tempting. Very occasionally, an event exceeds even the loftiest of expectations, and this is one in that category. If it’s unfinished business on your bucket list, do it!
We had only one regret from Car Week: we drove past the Concours d’lemons on our way to the track on the Saturday morning, reinforcing what we’d been told about ‘too many events, so little time’. Maybe next time
because, among all the magnificent, and occasionally over-restored, machinery both on show and driving around, you honestly do become blasé about yet another cavalcade of supercar heroes out to impress, so a show that celebrates “the worst that the automotive world has to offer” is a delicious flipside to the main concours event on the Pebble Beach Golf Links.
Celebrating the entrepreneurs
When my good buddy Locke de Bretteville came here in January 2015 for the event at Hampton Downs celebrating the career of Howden Ganley, he was very much taken by the one-offs that New Zealand has specialized in since the birth of motor racing here. So, when it came time to think of a gift for a Californian motorhead, it was a no-brainer.
Steve Holmes is fast approaching prolific status with his range of car-based books, and the latest one, Historic New Zealand Racing Cars, is a ripper. We stayed with the de Brettevilles at various stages across three weeks, and it was clear how much Locke was enjoying the book as he started yet another conversation based on the most recently read chapter. The car that appealed most to him, possibly because he has owned so many Alfa Romeos, is the Alfetta built and driven by Ian Algie in the early 1980s.
“He got a GTV, put the engine where the front seats were, and put himself in the back left-hand corner of the car — if that’s Kiwi ingenuity, then I love it,” Locke said.
The book has much more to offer than one-off specials, and includes examples of Mclarens, Mcraes, and Beggs, but there is something about the thought processes involved in even conceiving many of the cars that Steve has focused on, let alone the level of engineering required to go from idea to racing car. If the book has appealed so much to an American, who never saw most of the cars race, then it is an essential addition to any collection for those of us who did. Well done, Steve; it’s a credit to you.