NIGEL ROEBUCK’S F1 HEROES
Michele Alboreto, a man simply addicted to motor racing
there isn’t a doubt in my mind that my hero would have been Bernd Rosemeyer. He was ferociously quick in the treacherous rear-engined Auto Unions, single-handedly taking on the might of Mercedes, and always, apparently, with high good humour. Spectacular on track, charismatic off it, Rosemeyer had it all.
He was killed in January 1938, in a record attempt on the Frankfurt-darmstadt autobahn. When the Auto Union went out of control, disturbed by crosswinds, it was travelling at 270mph.
Reading in childhood about Rosemeyer, I remember being angered that he had died in such an apparently futile way – it seemed absurd that the life of a great grand prix driver, who excelled at such as the Nürburgring, should have been squandered driving flat-out in a straight line. And in April 2001 I had similar thoughts when I learned of the death of Michele Alboreto.
After a long and distinguished career Alboreto died at the Lausitzring when his Audi R8 suffered tyre failure and vaulted a barrier, clipping it along the way. Alboreto, only 44, had been conducting straightline tests in preparation for Le Mans.
“Aerodynamics, at Le Mans speeds,” he said to me, “is like a black hole – you need to have the right experience working with you. Audi has worked very hard on stability at really high speeds. Look at what happened to Mercedes…” This was not long after Le Mans in 1999 when the Mercedes factory cars had fallen prey to a series of alarming ‘aero’ accidents.
A couple of days after Alboreto’s death, the Formula 1 community gathered at Barcelona, and although Michele had been out of F1 for some years, everyone remembered the lovely fellow he had been.
“Outside of the people I actually worked with,” said Keke Rosberg, “there were two guys I thought exceptional, in every sense of the word. One was Elio [de Angelis] and the other was Michele. When I got home that evening, put on the TV news, and heard about his accident, it was like ripping open an old wound.”
Riccardo Patrese many times tried to persuade Alboreto to retire: “He had a thousand other things in his life, and he certainly didn’t need the money. But racing was something Michele just couldn’t do without…”
There was no argument about that. “He had a complete passion for driving,” said Gerhard Berger. “When I joined Ferrari in 1987, Michele was the superstar, and I’m sure I didn’t make his life easy, but he was always a gentleman – a true Italian gentleman – and we never had any problems. When we separated as team-mates, we remained good friends. Maybe he should have stopped racing years ago, but he just couldn’t leave it – and he died doing what he loved.”
For Alboreto motor racing indeed amounted to an addiction, and on a given day he was capable of true greatness. One such was the 1985 Monaco Grand Prix: after 18 laps he went down the escape road at Ste Devote, handing the lead to Alain Prost, but within seven laps he had caught – and passed – the Mclaren. Soon, though, he was into the pits with a deflating rear tyre, after which, rejoining fifth, he several times shattered the lap record, ultimately finishing second to Prost.
Through that season Alboreto was Prost’s only real challenger for the world championship. In the end he had to settle for runner-up, because the Ferrari wasn’t as good as the Mclaren, and, in truth, neither was Michele as good as Alain. No disgrace in that.
Once Alboreto was out of Ferrari, at the end of 1988, it was
inevitable that his F1 career could only go downhill, and in that situation many drivers would have called it a day, or raced in some other category, keeping pride intact.
That wasn’t Michele, though. Just like Clay Regazzoni, a decade earlier, he knew he still loved driving, and really wasn’t concerned about what people thought. In 1994, his final season in F1, he drove for Minardi, and if some thought that sad, well, that was their problem. Afterwards Alboreto tried a bit of this and that – he competed in the first season of the Indy Racing League, for example. But then came an offer from Audi, and a new career beckoned.
At Goodwood one year he drove an Auto Union, and entered into the spirit of the thing, down to wearing ‘period’ overalls and cloth helmet. “Look at me,” he said proudly. “Like Nuvolari!”
One of the reasons I was so fond of Michele was that, most untypically, he loved the sport’s heritage, and was the kind of driver who would know all about Nuvolari. He may have won five grands prix, but was still a man who had heroes: in his youth he had worshipped Ronnie Peterson, and adopted his helmet colours.
Alboreto also idolised Mario Andretti, whom he recognised as a kindred soul – a man who would race anything, anywhere, any time, and one who retired, well into his 50s, only with great reluctance.
“For me, Mario was the perfect racing driver – an example to us all,” Michele said. “For some drivers, it’s F1 or nothing, but he wasn’t like that, and neither am I. I don’t look just for the glamour, or to be at the top. I like to win, of course, but I have a passion for driving – I drive for pleasure and success, not for money.”
And was the pleasure in driving as much as ever? “Unfortunately, yes!”
But were there gaps that at one time he would have gone through, and now backed off?
“Unfortunately… no!”
As nice a man as I have known in motor racing, Alboreto was smiling as he answered my questions, as if aware that, into his 40s, perhaps he should be a little more circumspect. “I have less passion for women now than for cars! Old age, you see…”
He couldn’t help himself, and he knew it. “I will think about retirement,” he said, “only when I wake up and have to force myself to go to the track, when I feel I’m not as good as the other guys in the team. Under those circumstances, I wouldn’t want to be there.”
Sadly, that day never came.
I HAVE PASSION FOR DRIVING – I DRIVE FOR PLEASURE AND SUCESS, NOT FOR MONEY