The plaid shirt, the gaze on the ground. The sky over Ayrton was dark on the eve of May 1st 1994, thirty years like today. Sadness over a melancholic, emblematic expression, his trademark. From the Imola track to the hotel room, Castel San Pietro. Dinner at the Trattoria Romagnola, a photo for the young newlyweds who were celebrating in the hotel restaurant while trying to somehow chase away those clouds. A colleague who died a few hours ago, Roland Ratzenberger; a friend who was miraculously alive, Rubens Barrichello, who went off the track violently on Friday.
The tragedy of the day before
Two visits in two days to the medical center to swallow the bitterest taste of racing. Slaps, not just for him. Last death in a race weekend: Riccardo Paletti, 12 years earlier. Enough to think that it would be better to stop everything, a weak hypothesis, already obsolete; to listen to Sid Watkins, F1’s medical director, who suggested he stop it there: «You have won three World Championships, you are the best driver in the world. You don’t need to risk it anymore. Let’s go away, let’s go fishing.”
It is beautiful and poignant to imagine that, for a moment, just one, Ayrton was tempted to accept that advice so unusual, so precious. But he couldn’t stop, he didn’t want to. Michael Schumacher had won the first two races of the year. Him: zero. Not only. That German, deciphered at first glance, a racing animal similar to him, was driving an irregular car. He was certain of it, he had understood it in Japan days before, standing on the side of the track to investigate the sound produced by the traction control. A prohibited device.
Yes, but winning is not easy. He had chased that Williams for a long time, he was aiming to get even with Alain Prost, his nightmare, twice his size, with 4 World Championships. Prost had retired. Without him, less fun, like losing an accomplice, the best playmate. In addition, his Williams tormented him. «Like being in an electric chair». Uncomfortable, capricious, difficult to drive.
They had modified it, corrected it, it was decided to reduce the steering column to make room for the hands on the wheel. He would have run, of course. There Austrian flag to hide in the cockpitto be waved in the lap of honor to pay homage to Ratzenberger.
Deep breaths. Perhaps. Oh, Ayrton, what an effort. To find peace, much more was needed.
For the first time he found himself in the middle of a family conflict. Reason: Adriane, his partner, his love for him. Considered by her father and mother an opportunist, a threat to be removed. To the point of having her phone tapped. Tapes delivered to Castel San Pietro on the evening of 30 April by Ayrton’s brother, Leonardo.
An affront, a provocation. After what Ayrton had done, having himself photographed with his girlfriend on the family estate, outside San Paolo.
Senna and family disagreements
This is where they had arrived. He who stayed in the house he bought in the Algarve with Adriane, far from Angra dos Reis, the place of the heart, of the dearest affections. Anger softened by sorrow, destroyed by guilt. He was very fond of his parents, he was grateful. He had responded, he had been rigorous, disciplined as required of a gifted and successful son. Nevertheless…
The Bible on the bedside table. God always managed to offer comfort, answers, absolution. Phone call to Adriane. A visit to Frank Williams, in the room below her. The thought of the foundation now ready to function. Children, kids to accompany towards a first, real opportunity. It had been an obsession, it was becoming a consolation. The contract with Audi to import cars into Brazil. He had closed it and discovered that he could manage as a manager, which alluded to some vague future hypothesis.
He had to sleep. She kept watch. She reflected. As happens to each of us when clouds darken our sky. A thread of tenderness, here, to gain a night of quiet. Whether it was the last, it doesn’t matter. Ayrton certainly didn’t know it.
