We are five weeks from the 20th anniversary of
Ayrton Senna’s death, an event that retains the capacity to chill even
at this distance. Weirdly Senna, a deeply religious man, would have
readily accepted his fate since in his world view the crash at Imola’s
Tamburello corner ushered him into God’s realm at the time of the
Almighty’s calling.
When Senna slipped behind the wheel of a Formula Car he was communing with God, expressing through his own agency the will of the architect of all things. In death at the age of 34 he was immortalised as one of the greatest drivers in the pantheon. On Friday he would have been 54. Sadly we will never know how time would have treated him in middle age.
The memory, supported by the books, the documentaries and the films, preserves Senna in the full beauty of youth, as a driver who reset the parameters of what was possible, a genius who intuited the driving enterprise like few before or since. A record at the time of 41 race wins from 161 grands prix and 65 poles took him to three world titles, a towering monument to a talent that would have delivered even more.
If you were to pick a race that epitomised his gifts the 1993 European Grand Prix at Donington would be high on the list of most. In conditions that test the skill and nerve of the driver most, wet/dry, Senna went from fifth to first before the end of the opening lap. In a game of musical pit stops (Alain Prost made seven to Senna’s four) Senna finished almost a minute and a half ahead of the field.
Twelve months on there was a terrible sense of foreboding on that tragic weekend, which began with Rubens Barrichello’s violent accident in practice on Friday and 24 hours later the death of Roland Ratzenberger. As if foretelling his own demise Senna, seriously spooked by all that had happened, spoke of the fears he had for his own life on the day of the race. The night before in a telephone call to his girlfriend he expressed a desire not to participate.
When Senna slipped behind the wheel of a Formula Car he was communing with God, expressing through his own agency the will of the architect of all things. In death at the age of 34 he was immortalised as one of the greatest drivers in the pantheon. On Friday he would have been 54. Sadly we will never know how time would have treated him in middle age.
The memory, supported by the books, the documentaries and the films, preserves Senna in the full beauty of youth, as a driver who reset the parameters of what was possible, a genius who intuited the driving enterprise like few before or since. A record at the time of 41 race wins from 161 grands prix and 65 poles took him to three world titles, a towering monument to a talent that would have delivered even more.
If you were to pick a race that epitomised his gifts the 1993 European Grand Prix at Donington would be high on the list of most. In conditions that test the skill and nerve of the driver most, wet/dry, Senna went from fifth to first before the end of the opening lap. In a game of musical pit stops (Alain Prost made seven to Senna’s four) Senna finished almost a minute and a half ahead of the field.
Twelve months on there was a terrible sense of foreboding on that tragic weekend, which began with Rubens Barrichello’s violent accident in practice on Friday and 24 hours later the death of Roland Ratzenberger. As if foretelling his own demise Senna, seriously spooked by all that had happened, spoke of the fears he had for his own life on the day of the race. The night before in a telephone call to his girlfriend he expressed a desire not to participate.
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