Michael Schumacher takes place in history as five-year plan bears fruit
Richard Williams The forest of hands reaching out to Michael Schumacher after he lifted himself out of the Ferrari in the parc ferm’ at Suzuka on Sunday spoke of the true nature and significance of the win in the Japanese Grand Prix that gave him this year’s world championship. A remarkable victory for an individual, it was also as great a triumph of sustained teamwork as has ever been seen in Formula One. One by one each figure in red overalls received an embrace from the new champion. Managers, mechanics, designers, truck drivers, cooks, gofers, all were made to feel a part of a success that can only seem the sweeter for the five years of agony and suspense that preceded the climax. Back in Maranello, Don Alberto Bernardoni was ringing the bells of the parish church in the little square just off the Abetone road, summoning thousands into the streets to cele-brate the achievement of the team whose name is synonymous with that of the small town in Emilia Romagna from which Enzo Ferrari sent out his first car in 1947. Although 90% of the company is now owned by Fiat, the romantic allure of its original identity has somehow survived intact, even intensifying in the dozen years since the old man’s death. “I’m a realistic German,” Schumacher said in February, on the day that this year’s Ferrari was unveiled in Maranello. “I don’t live in dreams.” But after confessing on his arrival at Ferrari in 1996 that he knew little of the team’s glorious history, it was clear that he had finally become infected by the powerful myth surrounding the scarlet cars that represent Italy but whose popularity transcends all national boundaries.
The years of testing at the neat little private track across the road from the factory, and of lunching in the Cavallino restaurant opposite the gates, just as the old man used to do, had got to him at last. And now, in the eyes of the millions around the world who watch formula one only to see a Ferrari win, he has stepped into legend. Ten years ago Ferrari were in such a poor state that when both the team’s cars failed in front of their home fans in the opening laps of the San Marino Grand Prix at Imola, the team manager of the time was forced to don a crash helmet for anonymity and jump on a motorcycle in order to escape the angry crowds. For several seasons the team showed no signs of emerging from the slump. A billion pounds is probably a fair assessment of the amount spent by Ferrari in the five years since the company president, Luca di Montezemolo, and his sporting director, the Frenchman Jean Todt, put together the multinational squad that would eventually produce the first world championship for a Ferrari driver in 21 years. Determined to find a way around the internal political battles that had been hindering the team’s effort, they brought in the superstructure of another outfit – the young Benetton outfit that had won the championships of 1994 and 1995. Schumacher was the headline name, but behind him came Ross Brawn, the technical director, Tad Czapski, the software engineer, and Rory Byrne, the chassis designer – a German, two Englishmen and a South African, all of whom had worked together at the Benetton factory in Oxfordshire. The engine designer, Paolo Martinelli, was Italian, as were the principal race engineers, Ignazio Lunetta and Luca Baldaserri. The chief mechanic, responsible for maintaining order within the sometimes unruly ranks, was another Englishman, Nigel Stepney.
As a Ferrari world champion, Schumacher follows in the wheeltracks of Alberto Ascari, Juan Manuel Fangio, Mike Hawthorn, Phil Hill, John Surtees, Niki Lauda and Jody Scheckter. In terms of achievement with the Maranello team, only Ascari, whose record of nine consecutive grand prix wins has stood for almost 50 years, and Lauda, whose two championships brought the team back from the edge of extinction in the 70s, can compare with what Schumacher has done.
The German driver’s record of eight wins in a single season at the wheel of a Ferrari – with one race still to go – establishes a new record for the team. But more significant is the dedi-cation and persistence with which Schumacher has led the team’s effort, his absolute refusal to be knocked back by misfortune – including last season’s broken leg – ensuring that the morale of a notoriously volatile team never fell below the level at which it could remain competitive. To outsiders, Schumacher is not always easy to admire. His driving has sometimes been reckless and his emotional breakdown in front of the cameras after the recent Italian Grand Prix struck some experienced observers as less than authentic. But for any member of his team, from the humblest mechanic to the president, he is the ideal driver, delivering maxi-mum effort 100% of the time, even when the car is not responding well. Such commitment is guaranteed to build loyalty within the team, inspiring the sort of reciprocal endeavour that ensures their rivals can never sleep easily. As he shared greetings with the team after yesterday’s race, it was noticeable that Schumacher reserved a particularly warm embrace for Czapski, the software engineer whose name is hardly mentioned outside the factory. Nowadays in formula one the fight is as much against the rulebook as against the rival teams. What was once expressed in terms of nuts and bolts is encoded in the language of computers, with the philosophy of pushing against the limits of the technical regulations until someone objects.
We will probably never know the real truth of what went on in the battle between the engineers of Ferrari and McLaren over the past three seasons. There will always be those who say that, in any case, the men who run Formula One are biased towards the Italian team because of the glamour it brings to the sport. Only motor racing’s severest cynics, however, will find in Sunday’s result anything but the relief that comes from a fitting resolution to a long-running drama.