Imola '94 to Japan '07

Formula 1 is an indulgence. Let there be no doubts about that. An incredibly expensive, expansive one at that. In some ways, F1 is as much a sport as a Rajnikanth starrer is a movie. Only if one is willing to and able to see past this indulgence, can one truly enjoy the spectacle that it is. I don't with the latter, but most certainly do with the former.

I don't remember how or when I started watching tennis or cricket or football, but I remember the precise incident that kick started my affair with F1. When cable television entered my household in 1992, F1 was a reason to not turn to Star Sports (Prime Sports back then) for about 2 hours on what seemed like every Sunday. It continued that way, and could very possibly have stayed that way, but then, May 1st 1994 happened! Of course, I was completely unaware of the catastrophe when it took place, but when I turned to the sports page of The Hindu on May 2nd 1994, the headline read "Ayrton Senna pronounced clinically dead". I didn't have a clue as to who Ayrton Senna was, but the fact that he bumped cricket or tennis off the headline spot, intrigued me. I read the article, and following that, a couple of weeks later, watched the Monaco Grand Prix. I continue to watch F1 till this day.

It always helps to have a favorite. Without one, it is easier to be unbiased, but harder to be passionate, particularly when the spectacle is an indulgence. Michael Schumacher isn't palatable to everyone's taste. His ruthless attitude to winning alienated some, specifically, Brits and those that are the epitome of morals. Being neither, his unparalleled skill on track was fairly easy to admire.

In this technology driven sport, a lot of the manual skill involved tends to get masked and even overridden at times. Rain however, is known to be the great leveler, creating chaos, the results of which are nothing short of spectacular. It is on those occasions that the driver can significantly influence the laptimes that he is doing. Instead of driving at the absolute, but known limit of the machinery at their disposal, they are forced to determine the limits, that change at every corner on every lap due to the varying quantities of water present on the track. The result of finding the limits as well as making a mistake while trying to do so offer some of the most revered moments of F1. To churn out the most lopsided of victories under these conditions is the surest sign of genius in this sport.

Schumacher's victory in the 1995 Belgian Grand Prix from a starting position of 16, at the rain soaked Spa Francorchamps circuit was an early favorite of mine. Until of course, his victory at the 1996 Spanish Grand Prix, his first in Scarlet overalls. Some background information is needed at this juncture. Spain was the 7th race of 1996, and by the time the circus arrived in town, Schumacher was more than 20 points behind runaway leader Damon Hill and his rookie teammate, Jacques Villeneuve, of the all conquering Williams-Renault outfit. At the end of a dry hour of qualifying, Hill and Villeneuve were 1 and 2, with Schumacher almost a second behind Hill. The race was driven in soaking wet conditions though, and Schumacher's fastest lap was 2.2 seconds faster than the rest of the field. The rest can be read here

During this post Schumacher era, I watch F1 as an intrigued observer, with only traces of Ferrari favoritism remaining, but with Alonso being Schumacher's rival and Hamilton being, well, the Brit media's darling, I have been backing Kimi for the title all season. That hasn't prevented me from enjoying the several highpoints of this season, Hamilton overtaking Kimi at Monza and the repetitive Alonso - Heidfeld battles, to name just a couple.

However, all that has been pretty much washed away from memory by the deluge at the Japanese Grand Prix. The race being started behind the safety car was a huge letdown, and the mood turned gloomier when the talk centered around the race being stopped without any racing laps. Thankfully, Charlie Whiting, the race director, took the call to make the drivers race at about 180mph while they could not see the car that was 50m ahead of them. Besides, the 22 on track, I don't think too many people complained about the decision.

The racing was on and the action was non-stop. There were way too many subplots for a single race, happening all over the track. I kept a keen eye on Kimi's and Massa's progress through the field and also the Alonso-Hamilton gap and their pitstop timings, but Webber and Vettel's rise to the top took me completely by surprise. Trouble with F1 is, it is hard to track back the action and figure out the route taken to the top. There is just no time, and probably no cameras either. Alonso's crash spontaneously elicited some drunken revelry, but with the sobering reminder that that made Hamilton a shoo-in for the title this year. After it was clear that all pitstops were done, the focus turned to the track. Kimi was the only one that could do something about Hamilton's drive to glory and I for one, egged him on.

The Japanese Grand Prix was shifted to Fuji this year from the beloved Suzuka track. It had a lot to live up to. The 130R corner at Suzuka was a part of F1 folklore. Schumacher's lightning quick reflexes that got him through unscathed, 2 laps from the end of the race in 2000, with that year's championship on the line and Mika Hakkinen only a couple of seconds behind him on track is my fondest memory of it, with Alonso's move on Schumy during the ill fated 2005 season, being the worst one. However, both moments, and a few other ones, evoke the feeling of awe. Turn 4 at Fuji was called the 100R, the only challenging high speed corner at Fuji.

Back on track, Kimi had been following DC for a couple of laps without getting anywhere close enough to overtake. On Lap 57 though, he took a remarkably wide line through the 100R and just drove past DC without even having to outbrake him. In the past, Kimi's attitude has been questioned, but his guts haven't ever. This was why. In the prevailing blinding conditions, to take the speed that he did through that corner needed courage of the highest order. It was a Kimi special that took care of DC that day, and I made sure that my neighbors knew about it.

As the laps wound down, I was moaning and groaning about the television coverage and abnormal number of breaks for commercials. Meanwhile, Kimi had closed up on Heikki and tried a similar move a couple of times. Unfortunately for him, Heikki was driving the wheels off the Renault and was in no mood to surrender second place. After missing most of the action through the last lap, the television cameras caught the end of their joust, where it seemed like Kimi got past Heikki, but was taken at the end of the next corner. Seeing those two cross the line, I got my breath back. For a second, that is.

The cameras picked up a Ferrari and a BMW in the middle of a mighty battle for insignificant points. The action probably lasted for about 5 corners. Less than 30 seconds. It is a lifetime, "I watched it live!" moment. F1 cars are fragile and every single fragile component matters to the speed of the car. The drivers take great care in ensuring that they do not damage any of it, but during this battle, Massa and Kubica experienced a brain fade that pitched them right in the middle of a bumper car battle. No one could blame them for that though. Afterall, this was happening precisely two hours after the lights went out to start the race. They touched each other more than a couple of times. They overtook each other about 3 times, and this was before the finale.

At the last corner, Kubica pushed Massa off the track. Crucially, while doing so, he placed his wheels on the grass, which meant that he had to lift off slightly to regain track. Meanwhile, Massa, instead of lifting off, moved to the runway tarmac, kept the throttle down, rejoined the track and outdragged Kubica to the finish line. In the years to come, it will be the flagship battle of this decade, sitting pretty alongside the 1979 French classic between Arnoux and Villeneuve.