I’ve been waiting for this moment all year. The final race of the Grand Prix season. I reckoned right the way back in March that the championship would go down to the wire and so it proved although it took some pretty dodgy steward’s decisions and some unfairly harsh penalties throughout the season (on Lewis Hamilton) to make sure the last race in Brazil would decide the world crown.
By a cruel twist of timings I had a birthday bash to go to this afternoon but luckily I had developed a cold overnight so could not go. Really I did. A real sniffler it is too, so I just loaded the fire up with logs and sat down to watch the race on the telly. I’d actually set up a TV in the bathroom so I could sit in the warmth of a really hot bath, soak my bones, sweat my cold away and luxuriate in J’s most expensive bubble bath and watch the newest of Britain’s world champions but the kids and J had used all the hot water up so that was a great plan screwed. Was this an omen?
J and the kids went off to the birthday party, I sat down in perfect peace and quiet with Shadow at my feet and the race started. It was all pretty mundane for the first few laps with the leaders all getting away without mishap except for poor David Coulthard whose last race this was before retirement. Some pratt took him out on the first lap, the first corner actually and the suspicion was that it was Nico Rosberg whose aunt is a friend of ours. Wait till I see her. What a way for a distinguished career to end. Taken out by a fair-haired, pimply Finnish youth who can’t drive yet.
Coulthard has always had a special place in my affections, not only because he is a fellow Scot but because when I visited the Monaco Grand Prix qualifying a few years ago with my sons, we ‘bumped’ into him just outside the motor homes. When he heard the Scottish voices wishing him well for the race he came over and spoke to my boys for a few seconds. My boys were delighted and more so when he actually went on to win the race the following day. So David, have a happy retirement. You’ve been a credit to your sport.
But back to today’s race. Hamilton needed only to finish 5th if Massa won to win the world championship. Massa streaked away in the lead with Hamilton 5th – the perfect script. Then there were some pit stops which tend to mess things up a bit. Hamilton came out of his in 7th place but rose to 5th after some typically aggressive driving. Massa meanwhile sailed off serenely into the distance. Nothing but some heavy rain, which he hates, or a mechanical catastrophe would stop him. Rain however, was forecast 7 laps from the end of the race and sure enough it came down right on cue. The leaders all dived into the pits to change their tyres but some of the slower drivers thought they could get to the end without putting on wet-weather ones and stayed out. Hamilton was now 4th and seemingly safe but just as another driver closed in to take his place….. incredible, incredible...... my satellite signal disappeared. It was raining here also and in a heavy downpour the picture breaks up and eventually disappears. Well, I tried everything. I looked for another ITV station and found one way back in the listings – Hamilton was now 5th and still in it. Then this channel disappeared as well. As a last desperate measure I moved onto Radio 5 Live hoping they’d be broadcasting the race – they were, but as I picked up the commentary I was aghast to learn that Hamilton was now 6th. Something had happened in the seconds during which I searched the airwaves and he was now out of contention. The last thing I heard on the radio before I switched off in disgust was, ‘and Hamilton is now in an impossible position. There’s only two corners left….it’s all over. Massa’s won it’. I cursed and sat down on the sofa. I’m a very bad loser. A few minutes later I switched the telly back on mainly to see if the signal had returned and heard the commentators going mad – one of the drivers who had stayed out on dry-weather tyres just couldn’t get any speed and Hamilton passed him to take the coveted 5th place. I was speechless but elated. Hamilton was world champion and rightfully so as far as I was concerned. The authorities had tried to screw him all year but he’d beaten them – nil carborundum illigitimi and all that! Pathetic, amateur stewards from countries who don’t even have cars had tried to screw him but he’d triumphed. Brilliant!
Finally, I have to say that Massa was very dignified in defeat. He’d worked incredibly hard all year but had just been pipped at the post and whilst he cried and cried he still managed to compose himself and pour praise on Hamilton’s triumph.
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