The Fastest and Fittest

Four years ago,  when China hosted the Summer Olympics,  the only thing I remember hearing about was people protesting in favor of Tibet, against China’s brutal invasion of that country. With the games in London this year,  the situation slightly improved for me, sports illiterate  I am. I know Phelps  – the only man ever to hold nineteen gold medals – and  the muscular girls of our women’s gymnastics team, who seem to be rocking and rolling too.

It is a much better environment now, when we are finally free (one can hope) of  athletes born and raised in the bankrupted USSR and first cousin East Germany, who fed their super men and women tons of steroids – and God only knows what else – to prove communism produced superior human beings, impossible to be imitated in the capitalist West.

So I wandered  through our Xfinity channels in the evenings after work this week, looking for the latest Olympic Games footage. I get my daily news  from the Web, and yet, when it comes to watch a little bit of Olympic competition before bed, I still turn on the TV.

It was by chance, playing with the remote, that I came across a surprising documentary, broadcast on July 30 by ESPN 2 (channel 35 if you have Comcast) about a sports person who in a way, was an Olympic champion as well.  The documentary, produced in the UK, was entirely assembled with pieces of home videos and interviews with people close to the man it depicts.

Before going into more details about the documentary’s hero, I would like to explain one little thing about the country where I was born: there were only three things that really mattered to Brazilians  on weekends (order of preference may vary according to gender, age, and how close one is from the shore): 1. attending Mass (Saturday or Sunday, pick your preferred time and priest); 2. Skies blue enough for a day or two at the beach;  3. Soccer, and 4. Formula One racing on TV. I never liked soccer very much, always loved the beach, attended  Holy Mass for a long time on Sundays at five PM, but watching Formula One on TV could lead me to suicide.

It is the most monotonous  competition ever; potent engines roaring and tires screeching on pavement, lap upon lap, for two to three hours (as I recall, from eleven in the morning  to one or two in the Sunday afternoon), punctuated by irrelevant  remarks from the commentators behind the cameras. Who can blame them? I mean, there  is only so much one can say about a competition where very little happens once the cars start off. Usually  the race’s winner is defined in the very first minutes – whoever holds the pole position will be crossing the finish line first, unless he allows for the second driver to pass him, which rarely happens, no matter how good number two might be. That’s huge. An overtaking, when it happens, has the power to revive  the commentators, giving the poor things material for another full three hours of Formula One broadcast.  It’s like blood to Dracula.  Like touch down. Only that it almost never happens…

Aside from bold and rare overtakings (which involve a lot of complex factors such as aerodynamic efficiency and bubbles of turbulent air),  the only other source of excitement , sadly, is when someone gets  hurt. Or worse. The few times I watched some of those unwanted episodes, replayed ad nauseam,  I told myself we are all nuts. The ones behind the wheel and the ones in front of the TV alike. Those guys are driving weird, elongated and ugly things, with enormous engines, balanced on four exaggeratedly wide and tall tires – those things don’t look like automobiles at all – developing speeds as high as  370 km/h (230 mph) and we are watching them get hurt, burn in Hollywood-like  explosions (Austrian F1 pilot Niki Lauda’s  permanently disfigured face is an appalling evidence of how nasty his burns were ) – or perish. Then the race might get suspended, adjourned, and the torture continues on the following  Sunday. If someone wins the race and no accidents happen thank God (who must be scratching His head in disbelief  as well, having dispatched  His elite  Guardian Angels down to a Sunday at the tarmac ), another race will take place again in four or five weeks, in another country. In Formula One jargon each race is called Grand Prix (French for Great Prize): Australia Grand Prix, Japan Grand Prix, Brazil Grand Prix and so on.

On one of those Sundays – it was May 1st, 1994 –   the then three  times Formula One  world champion was too fast even for  elite angels.  Brazilian F1 pilot  Ayrton Senna da Silva died in the San Marino Grand Prix (Bologna, Italy), in  a crash at the corner known as Tamburello, while leading the race. He was thirty-four.

I don’t  remember the day but I know I was not particularly  moved by his passing.  To me, he was an air-headed celebrity,  a bon-vivant; talented and  skilled in driving ugly looking cars at maddening speeds, long  divorced and always dating this or that top-model from Rio or Sao Paulo. Adored by the press and, goes without saying, Formula One hard core fans, but not the least bit inspiring to me. It took a British documentary to show me I was wrong.

If you Google SENNA,  the acclaimed (now I know) 106 min documentary by English director Asif Kapadia,  released in 2010, this is a summary of what the Web reports:

“It  begins with Senna’s arrival into Formula One during the 1984 season, briefly covering his time at Toleman and Lotus before concentrating on his career at McLaren. The documentary concentrates on his time with the British team – namely his rise to global fame – becoming a World Champion, his rivalry with his team mate Alain Prost, and his political struggles with the then head of FISA Jean-Marie Balestre. The film covers the climax of the rivalry during the 1989 and 1990 seasons, when Senna and Prost were involved in controversial clashes which decided the drivers’ title. Following a brief overview of the seasons that followed and the technological domination of the Williams cars, the documentary reaches its finale as Senna moves to the Grove-based team in 1994, before covering the events of that year’s San Marino Grand Prix, which saw Senna lose his life. The film concludes with the Senna family and his close friends from Formula One mourning his loss at his funeral.”

As the movie flowed with undeniable competency by the director, I learned that Senna’s career started  with karting at the age of thirteen – his dad Milton  built his first kart, actually:  a small 1 HP go-kart that used a lawnmower engine! Born in the neighborhood of Santana, in Sao Paulo, to a very wealthy family of Italian and Portuguese descent, this  highly athletic young man  excelled  in gymnastics and other sports and had already given his heart  to cars and motor racing at the age of four. Although Ayrton  moved to England  in 1981  to pursue the F1 pilot career,  he remained concerned about  poverty in his own country. It was not until  after his death  that it was revealed how  Senna had quietly donated a large portion of his personal fortune . Shortly before  passing, assisted by Viviane Senna, his sister, Ayrton planned a foundation,   a charitable non-profit organization  dedicated to assist Brazilian children,  which  would later be named The Ayrton Senna Institute:

http://senna.globo.com/institutoayrtonsenna/ingles/home/faq.asp

To date, this charitable organization has helped twelve million kids in Brazil. The foundation is officially advised by Bernie Ecclestone, Frank Williams, Alain Prost (once Senna’s rival and arch- enemy), and Gerhard Berger – all Formula One personalities. The “Senninha” (“Little Senna”) cartoon character, born in 1993/94, was another means by which Senna extended his role model status in favor of Brazilian children.

A second  web site reports how Senna was renowned for “his intensity and almost  mystic qualities,  often quoted using driving as a means for self-discovery and racing as a metaphor for life: ‘The harder I push, the more I find within myself. I am always looking for the next step, a different world to go into, areas where I have not been before. It’s lonely driving a Grand Prix car, but very absorbing. I have experienced new sensations, and I want more. That is my excitement, my motivation. ‘ “

Towards the sudden end of his career , Senna turned increasingly preoccupied with the dangers of the profession. On the very morning of his passing he outlined what would become  the  GPDA (Grand Prix Drivers Association) reformation,   which he had intended  to improve safety regulations.

A few more curiosities I found on the Web about his life:

“In the late 1980s, to take advantage of the close relationship Honda had formed with Senna, the Japanese company asked him to help fine-tune the Honda NSX‘s suspension setting during its final development stages. The tests were conducted at Suzuka Circuit with chief NSX engineer Shigeru Uehara and his engineering team present to gather Senna’s direct input. Senna found the prototype NSX initially lacked chassis stiffness to the level he was accustomed to, so the final production version was further reinforced to his satisfaction. Senna was also instrumental in bringing Audi cars into his native country, both as an import and manufacturing business. Audi entered Brazil in 1994 via Ayrton Senna’s company, Senna Import, founded in 1993. Sales began in April that year, just a month before his untimely death. In 1999, Audi Senna was created as a joint venture of Audi with Senna Import. Senna’s personal car in 1994 was an Audi S4.”

 The son of a highly successful businessman, Senna had entrepreneurism  too in his veins:

“Senna exercised his strong entrepreneurial spirit in the early 1990s by developing his own logo, the double S, after his full surname, Senna da Silva. The Senna brand was on apparel, watches (TAG Heuer), bicycles (Carraro), and boats. TAG Heuer and Hublot have created limited edition watches to honor Senna, both during his lifetime and after his death. Senna owned several properties, including an organic farm in Tatuí, Brazil, a beach house in Angra dos Reis, Brazil, and several other properties  in São Paulo, Monaco, and Algarve, Portugal. Ayrton enjoyed a range of physical activities including running, waterskiing, jet skiing, and paddleboarding. He also had several hobbies, such as flying real and model planes and helicopters,  boating, fishing and riding his favorite Ducati motorbikes. His private jet was a British Aerospace 125 (BAe HS125), and he also piloted his own helicopter between his residences in Brazil. He was left-handed. His nickname from childhood was “Beco”, and the Japanese Honda engineers would call him “Harry” because they had difficulty pronouncing Ayrton.”

“Many safety improvements were made in the sport following Senna’s death. These include improved crash barriers, redesigned tracks, higher crash safety standards (such as larger sills along the driver cockpit) and major cuts to engine power. Ironically, these knee-jerk measures resulted in further major crashes that year (e.g., at the Spanish Grand Prix). Also ironically, entry to the fatal Tamburello corner and other chicanes on the Imola circuit had been significantly altered for 1995. This was despite calls for action in 1989, after a serious high-speed crash that saw Senna’s best friend, Gerhard Berger, suffering burns to his hand. No action took place after that crash because, following an inspection by Senna and Berger, they ended up siding with officials who had, for years, claimed that the wall could not be moved further back due to a river nearby. (…) Soon after his death in 1994, the Brazilian  World Cup winning team dedicated their victory to the great racer in order to recognize his contributions to Formula One.”

People literally hanging from light poles on the streets of Sao Paulo; crowds of thousands lining the long avenues of a city that houses a population of  twenty million, struggling  to catch a glimpse of the fire engine slowly moving ahead,  with Senna’s coffin atop, covered by Brazil’s flag.  The documentary simply plays back  real footage at this point. Nothing  the director, as talented as he is, could have artificially produced in a movie set , and perhaps combined with computer-generated images, would have been more impressive, touching  and stronger than the scenes filmed in Brazil during Senna’s funeral. I do remember the country halted. And that’s all I remember. No school, people did not go to work. Had the Brazilian soccer team won the World Cup twice that week,  the commotion would not top that of  Senna’s body returning home.  There were kids in tears, boys and girls. Men and women crying like babies, carrying posters autographed by Senna. We have all seen this type of demonstration once in a while, here and there, around the world. But what is strikingly powerful about the footage used in the Senna documentary is the sheer number of people on the streets; miles of roads and avenues in Sao Paulo lined with people, crowded balconies, people climbing on walls just to wave good-bye. I don’t  think Brazil  had ever witnessed such a public demonstration of love and admiration for one single individual.

Where was I when all this went on? I wish I could have  known  how humble Senna behaved in the meetings the documentary shows, where the pilots would bring their suggestions to the FISA (International Federation of Automotive Sports)  managers in Europe, voicing their concerns. And how arrogant the FISA executives could be ! I watched those segments in disgust; the FISA top guys made me think of irresponsible horse race organizers – the cars were the  horses, the pilots jockeys,  and their lives did not matter much as long as FISA kept on  making money.  

I wish I could have known  how Ayrton struggled against the new  car the  Williams team gave him in 1994; how worried he was, how unhappy he looked, his forehead constantly  creased,  complaining in a very low voice that something was wrong with the car, shaking his head to the mechanics; that the car shifted balance too harshly on the curves (I have no idea what that means, practically speaking); that all the electronics and computers  added to control the engine were actually doing nothing positive and  he did not trust any of the new devices. To him,  the FW16 had speed but was very unstable and hard to control. And then his  conflicts with French F1 pilot Alain Prost. How Prost criticized him in public, to TV show hosts and newspapers because Ayrton was always talking about God, and how God was with him, etc. That was sheer ignorance on Mr. Prost’s side, I thought. He had no idea Ayrton was just being Brazilian – that people in Brazil talk like that all the time; without meaning to preach or exalt themselves as one of God’s favorites as Prost complained.

In Wikipedias’ page about Ayrton Senna’s death, a short paragraph summarizes the accident’s technicalities:

“On lap 7, the second lap at racing speed, Senna’s car left the racing line at the 190 mph Tamburello corner, ran in a straight line off the track and struck an unprotected concrete barrier. He left the track at 310 km/h (190 mph) and was able to slow the car down by braking to 218 km/h (135 mph) in slightly under 2 seconds before hitting the wall. The car hit the wall at a shallow angle, tearing off the right front wheel and nose cone, lifted slightly with the nose as it straightened, and spun to a halt. After Senna’s car came to a halt, he remained motionless in the cockpit.”

Translated into images and emotions In Kapadia’s documentary though,  those last few minutes made Ayrton Senna more human than ever: he died. I wish I had known of his long-time friendship with Dr.  Sid Watkins, head of the Formula One medical team for twenty-six years; an older English gentleman, so nice and protective of Senna I felt like giving him a big hug. At one point, seeing how distressed over the new Williams car Ayrton was, Watkins told him he should quit. “You like fishing. And you already are the fastest man on the planet, three times. I like fishing too. Let’s quit.”  To which  Senna responded he could not quit.

It took Sid twenty-six seconds  to get to Ayrton’s side after the crash.  It is a very intense segment in the movie – all real footage. We can see Senna’s helmet inside the car, but he is not moving at first.  Then his helmet turns slightly to one side, causing false hopes.  Fire marshals rush to the crash scene – the cockpit looked intact, but the tires are nowhere to be seen and the FW16 lacks big chunks of metal or whatever  high-tech fiber is used to build  F1 cars. They are forbidden to touch the pilot though, until the arrival of qualified medical personnel. An ambulance arrives screeching tires and the group of paramedics  (Professor Sid Watkins among them),  super quick in their movements, proceeds  to remove Ayrton from the car. In voice-over, Watkins describes how he,  not being a religious person himself,   nevertheless saw Ayrton’s legs gone limp, as he was laid on the ground momentarily,  and knew his friend’s spirit had departed.  As horrific as the crash appeared, there was not a  single broken bone  in Ayrton’s  body, Dr. Watkins reports. A considerable amount of blood on the ground and later medical exams confirmed Senna had sustained a lethal trauma to the head. Senna’s death in 1994 was the last fatality to occur in  Formula One races.

In a way, the fastest  and fittest human beings on earth made me see with new eyes the circles in which  life  comes and  goes, like an endless Formula One race. I was looking for news on Mike Phelps and our  gymnastic girls   and instead rediscovered Ayrton Senna.  I should have seen  years ago  that the passion Senna inspired in millions of fans in Brazil could not have been based on celebrity fever only. I should have been able to understand why Senna moved both the young and the old, men and women; even the ones who didn’t care much about Formula One.  Almost two decades later,  writing about him felt  appropriate,  considering the show of human victories the Olympic Games brought us this summer. I’m paying Mr. Senna my respects now, so very late. He too was among the fastest on the planet one day, eighteen years ago.

(Included below is the link to the documentary trailer – SENNA – posted on YouTube . The documentary is available at Netflix)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JOzq927y15o

Advertisements

About TownCryer

Blogger
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to The Fastest and Fittest

  1. Wow that was unusual. I just wrote an extremely long comment
    but after I clicked submit my comment didn’t show up. Grrrr… well I’m not writing all that over again.
    Anyhow, just wanted to say superb blog!

    • livlugara says:

      Oh I am so sorry to hear that… Thank you anyway for letting me know; I appreciate your message more than I can put into words. Would have loved to read your comment and respond to it but I know how horribly frustrating this technology stuff sometimes is. I will go into the blog today and check if your comment did not stay there somehow anyway… Maybe Many many thanks anyway!!!

      Liv Lugara

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s