Green Races Red. Maurice Hamilton

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СКАЧАТЬ I looked again and there he was, on a mission to nowhere. In fact, he lost control of the Benetton before he even hit me. The impact could have been a lot worse; he could have spun me out of the race. In fact, the Benetton damaged part of my rear wing so I took things easy during the next few laps, just to check that everything was okay.

      It was typical Alesi. He seemed to get away with that sort of thing at almost every race. Going into the first corner, not long after the start of the previous year’s Belgian Grand Prix, he came barrelling down the inside with his brakes locked up. I was ahead of him and, if I had turned in to the corner – which was totally my right – he would have gone into the side of my Jordan and the race probably would have been stopped. And I know who would have been blamed. In the event, I gave him room and lost several places in the process. This time, however, he paid for his impatience.

      It was great, because Alesi’s retirement took the pressure off me for the rest of the race. I was able to drive at my own pace; in fact, I was able to pick up speed because I could smooth everything out and drive neatly without having to play a defensive game. I found about two or three tenths of a second per lap and, by no longer needing to worry about braking that little bit later just to stop Alesi from coming through, I was removing the worry about brake wear.

      The rest of the race was uneventful. I moved up to third when Michael dropped out with mechanical trouble, but I was not pushing at all. I was thinking: ‘I’ve got to finish, I’ve got to finish. I can’t believe this is happening.’

      This, of course, was the furthest I had gone in the new car. That’s when you learn things – such as the fact that I was moving around a bit too much in the seat. It seemed a snug fit when I tried it for the first time, but, after an extended period in the cockpit, I was making mental notes about where I needed extra support. I was learning about the way the car was handling, which was very useful experience for the future.

      It was quite funny because it occurred to me that, if the Williams drivers crashed into each other, then I would win! I would be like Nigel Mansell, who won his first race for Ferrari in 1989, against all odds. Nigel had been in an identical situation, as the new Ferrari had been plagued with problems. They were introducing a semi-automatic gearbox and Mansell was lucky if he managed a handful of laps during practice without the car coming to a halt. The warm-up for the race had been a shambles. I believe Nigel had booked himself an early flight home. He really didn’t believe he would finish the race, never mind win it. When he did, Italy went beserk.

      I was thinking: ‘That would be great if the same happened to me!’ But then I thought about the Australian Grand Prix at the end of 1995. I was holding an easy third place and thinking what a great way this would be to leave Jordan. Then the engine failed.

      That made me feel worse. Each lap seemed to get longer and longer. By the time I got to the end of lap 58, I was delighted to see the chequered flag. Everyone at Ferrari was even happier.

      I was pleased for the team as much as anyone else because they had worked so hard. But, to be honest, I thought the best thing I had done all weekend was to qualify third; that had allowed me to stay ahead of trouble in the race. Anyone could have come home third under those circumstances. It was no big deal. But at least it justified a beer or two afterwards. Then I had to jump on a plane back to Europe at midnight. And I never did get to see the two girls.

CHAPTER 3

       Showing My Colours

      The buzz I felt after finishing third in Australia had nothing to do with the result. Michael had been waiting for me in parc ferme. I think he said: ‘Good race, well done.’ It was difficult for me to hear exactly because my ears were ringing.

      Most drivers use ear plugs while in the car to cut out the engine noise; they also double up as speakers for the radio system. Unfortunately, mine had fallen out during the race. The team had been trying to tell me to speed up because Jacques Villeneuve was in trouble, but the message wasn’t getting through. I could hear a buzzing in my ears every now and again. I knew my engineer was trying to say something but I assumed I had a problem of some sort, so I was going slower and slower – and the more I backed off, the more I was being told to speed up!

      After the race, people were talking to me, but I couldn’t hear them clearly. My ear plugs had never fallen out before. It must have happened gradually, because I didn’t notice them go. I was just increasingly aware of the engine; in the end, the noise was unreal. I had noticed other drivers taping the plugs into their ears before the start of the races; I made a point of doing that from then on.

      Meanwhile, there had been a noise of a different kind following events on the rostrum in Melbourne. The usual arrangement at the end of a race is for the first three finishers to take their place on the podium and the flags of their respective countries raised behind them, the winner having his national anthem played at the same time. In my case, they put up the Irish flag because I race under an Irish licence, more as a matter of convenience than a political statement. The Irish flag is green, white and orange and it was designed for the whole of Ireland; green for the Republic, orange for Northern Ireland with white for peace between the two. The problem is, the so-called Tricolour has unfortunate connotations in Northern Ireland because it is seen to soley represent the Republic. People in the North have been told for as long as I can remember that the colours are green, white and gold. I had only discovered the proper meaning a year or so ago; it made me wonder if this green, white and gold business had been deliberate misinformation by those who want the Union Flag flown in Northern Ireland.

      Anyway, I was not about to get into Irish politics when the officials asked me, before the Australian race, which flag I would prefer: the Irish or the British. I said I didn’t mind. To be honest, I didn’t really care because I was sure I wasn’t going to finish. Ideally, I would have liked a flag with a shamrock; something with no political overtones. The officials had also asked about the national anthem if I won. I thought that was pushing my luck a bit too far but, just in case, I had asked for the ‘Londonderry Air’, a traditional tune which everyone knows, very Irish but completely non-political.

      I suddenly remembered all of that when I was on the rostrum. I looked behind me but, from where I stood, I couldn’t make out which flag they were using. Unfortunately, a number of people back home could see the Irish Tricolour all too clearly on television.

      My Dad received several telephone calls; there were letters of objection in the Northern Ireland newspapers; all that sort of thing. I had raised the subject with the sport’s governing body, the Federation Internationale de l’Automobile (FIA). They said it was either the Union Flag or the Irish Tricolour. They didn’t appreciate the delicate situation and they didn’t want to know about anything else. So, we had the Irish flag in Australia and, all of a sudden, attitudes softened a few weeks later. I don’t know why; maybe someone at the FIA had a phone call or a letter and the full implication of the Irish question was brought home. Someone said the Irish take these things very seriously. Tell me about it!

      I was born and brought up in County Down, Northern Ireland. The best part of my education came from Regent House, a very good school in the market town of Newtownards, about ten miles from Belfast. The majority of boys at Regent House were Protestant and I can remember the day when a teacher asked if we wanted a united Ireland. I had never understood the politics or the economics of the situation; I just thought: ‘It’s one island, it should be one country. Yes, we should have a united Ireland. Why not?’ I can’t remember the exact numbers but quite a few pupils held the same view, which was surprising considering, as I said, this happened to be a largely Protestant СКАЧАТЬ