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A minute of silence to remember Ayrton Senna, the F1 champion who at 2.17pm on 1 May 1994 collided with his Mac Laren at the Tamburello curve of the Imola circuit, losing his life. This is how, 30 years after the tragic death of the champion, preceded the day before by that of Roland Ratzenberger at the Tosa curve, Imola remembers the man and the sportsman.
Gates open at the Imola Autodrome for the many fans who want to remember Senna and free public entry to the track until 6pm. Throughout the day, anyone who wants will be able to see the Brazilian driver’s memorabilia at the Checco Costa museum.
At 2.17pm, the time of Senna’s accident at the Tamburello, a minute of silence
The Minister of Foreign Affairs, Antonio Tajani, and his colleagues from Brazil, Mauro Vieira and from Austria, Alexander Schallenberg also respected the minute of silence. Also participating in the ceremony are Bruno Senna, Ayrton’s nephew, son of his sister Viviane. Doing the honors were the mayor of Imola Marco Panieri, the CEO of Formula One, Stefano Domenicali and the president of Formula Imola, Gian Carlo Minardi.
At 4.30pm in the press room of the Autodromo the documentary on Ratzenberger will be screened, followed at 4.45pm by the presentation of the book by journalist Franco Nugnes entitled ‘Senna – The truths’ published by Minerva. In the evening, at 9pm, the show ‘Fresi tells Senna’ will be staged at the Ebe Stignani municipal theatre, a monologue on Ayrton’s life told by the actor Stefano Fresi.
The memory of Cesare Cremonini
“I was in Imola on May 1st 1994, in the grandstand in front of the straight, together with my father and my brother. I remember every moment of that day, from the early morning start to the roar of the helicopter carrying Senna towards the Maggiore hospital in Bologna. I was left with the silence that accompanied us home from that day – Cesare Cremonini writes on Facebook – Why is the death of a poet so different from all the others? It’s not like this when a hero dies of poets there are no fairy tales to pass down to posterity, no deeds to emulate. When a poet dies, what remains is something profound and mysterious as what happens with the divinities sport, Senna was a poet”. “I became a little older that first May in Imola – he adds -. Sundays no longer had the same childish flavour. Of caresses and quarrels. A bit of that silence remained within me and a few years later it became music. ‘Since Senna no longer races it’s no longer Sunday'”.
