It was May 1st 1994. During the Grand Prix in Imola one of the greatest drivers in the history of Formula 1 died. He had already won three world titles: he was the fastest, the most impetuous, the most melancholy, the most loved. He had become a leader, even for his rivals. And for this reason he is a legend
My name is Ayrton, and I’m a pilot / And I run fast on my way.” Two lines were enough for that genius Lucio Dalla to define the life and perhaps even the death of one of the greatest drivers in the history of Formula 1. Thirty years have passed since that first May 1994. Today Ayrton seems incredible , he would be 64, perhaps he would have become a television commentator, perhaps a certain plumpness would have reached him, like Ronaldo the phenomenon, or perhaps wrinkles would have surrounded those eyes as deep as an ocean. I liked Ayrton a lot. I liked his brazen melancholy and his restless way of driving those single-seater beasts on the circuits. I liked him just a little less than Gilles Villeneuve, whose death I’m not ashamed of having cried. They were two sad acrobats, two undisciplined and severe heroes, capable of coming into conflict with the world, ruthless in their desire to win, because in sport you don’t just participate – photo | video
Carol Alt, from her great love for Ayrton Senna to her young (ex) boyfriend – Look
THE SECURITY – Senna once decided to crash into Alain Prost’s car, because he hated him, rivalry between champions, and because he wanted to take revenge for the wrongs that the president of the Automobile Federation reserved for him every now and then. In the magnificent documentary Seine, see it if you can, there is the story of the leadership role that Senna had in meetings between drivers, to defend first and foremost the right to safety. Then it was much worse than today, even if then it was much better than before when, within a decade, one by one all the best died: Jim Clark, Jochen Rindt, Ronnie Peterson and many Italian riders, starting with Lorenzo Bandini .
Carol Alt’s most poignant memory of Ayrton Senna – Look
BAD OMENS – Those days between April and May 1994 in Imola, for the San Marino Grand Prix, were marked by dark omens. On Friday, the first day of testing, Rubens Barrichello’s Jordan took off due to a broken suspension, hit the safety net, overturned before stopping, with the pilot stunned and injured. The next day the worst happened. A young Austrian pilot, Roland Ratzenberger, died in an accident resulting from the loss of an aileron. At 314 kilometers per hour the car crashed into the wall of the curve named after Gilles Villeneuve and the boy, 34 years old, lost his life. His parents later said that as a child, living near a pilots’ school, his favorite game was to stand with his back to the window and, listening to the roar of the engines, recognize the make of the cars that passed. Senna was very shocked by that accident and once again braved the wrath of the Federation by going to inspect the corner to pay homage to the missing driver and to see if everything was back in order. The drivers’ doctor, a good man, begged him not to race the next day. Because the circus didn’t stop even after the death of one of its artists. Ayrton will take an Austrian flag and bring it into the cockpit of his Williams Renault with the idea of waving it in the very probable event he wins the race. He was in pole position, he had won three world championships, 41 grand prix, and he had been on pole 65 times. He was the fastest, there’s no doubt. And he was the saddest but, at the same time, the most combative.
He wanted to do nothing but win, just win. But always thinking of the God he loved, who took him or perhaps left him that day in May, of his Brazil, land of epics and fairy tales, of the people he respected.
Ayrton Senna, his dream villa sold for almost 10 million euros – Look
LUCIO DALLA AGAIN – Dalla again, in the song Ayrton composed for him: “And, as a man, it took me years / To understand that it was my fault too / To understand that I had done it a little too / And I understood that it was all fake / I understood that a winner is as good as a loser / I realized that people loved me.”
Senna once said: «The rich cannot live on an island surrounded by an ocean of poverty. We all breathe the same air. We need to give everyone a chance.” Ayrton had charisma, a gift that is rare, he was strong and handsome. It is difficult to think of his face, so perfect, disfigured by the violence of an absurd death.
We all remember that May 1st, Labor Day. That damned race shouldn’t have taken place, so the next time Ayrton would have waved the red and white flag as the winner to honor his dead colleague. Listen to that song again, a love hymn for a pilot born in a distant land and who died at the same age as Ratzenberger, 34 years old. “My name is Ayrton, and I’m a driver / And I race fast on my way / Even if it’s no longer there same road / Even if it’s no longer the same / Even if there are no pilots here / Even if not here there are flags / Even if perhaps it didn’t help nothing / The circus will change the city anyway / You have me said: close your eyes and rest / And I, now, close the eyes”. With our eyes closed we too remember him, thirty years later, while he passes quickly into our lives, remaining there.
Walter Veltroni
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