Thirty-One and Learning from Michael Schumacher
I’ve just turned thirty-one. I wanted to write about turning thirty last year, but I didn’t really feel anything about it. It was another number, some grey hair. Thirty-one is different. I don’t like prime numbers (except ‘2’). TV volume setting at 17 or 23 or 29? No. Thirty-one is special, though. I like thirty-one as an age for a particular reason, which makes this a good time to write about growing older with one of my biggest influences in life.
Seventeen years ago, Michael Schumacher was thirty-one when, already a two-time champion with Benetton (’94 and ’95), he won his first Formula One World Drivers’ Championship with Ferrari. I joined my father as he watched the last laps of the race, the cars chasing one another around the figure eight-shaped track at Suzuka. As Schumacher took the chequered flag, wild celebrations broke out in the Ferrari paddock. Within moments, Schumacher, very supportive teammate Rubens Barrichello, and technical director Ross Brawn were wearing red wigs and spraying champagne from the podium. The fans were screaming in delight. It was heady. Watching this triumph, also feeling for Mika Hakkinen as he dealt with his loss, I knew I wanted to start watching this sport. I had had no loyalties so far, but I knew which way my emotions veered now. I latched on to Ferrari like I never had to any other sporting team. I could barely wait for March 2001.
Suzuka 2000 was not my first glimpse of an F1 race — I had seen snippets earlier when my dad watched races, briefly toying with supporting McLaren-Mercedes for no reason other than that I simply had to take sides with someone when watching any sport. I didn’t really feel anything, though, until that October afternoon in 2000. The joy was infectious, making me want to be with the people in scarlet there. Ferrari was just beginning its five-year winning streak and it was the perfect time to begin watching the sport for those who wanted to identify as tifosi. By mid-2001, my walls were plastered with red posters.
Jody Scheckter took the last drivers’ title for the team in 1979, after which its fortunes began to slump. Schumacher arrived from Benetton in 1996, fresh from winning two consecutive titles, inexplicably joining a struggling team. Along came Brawn, as they worked hard for four years to rebuild the team, bit by bit restoring its faded legacy. They won the constructors’ title and came agonisingly close, through Eddie Irvine, to the drivers’ championship in 1999; however, it was Schumacher who was destined to break that jinx.
Their work ethic inspired me. I took lessons from the sport: not from Schumacher and Ferrari alone, but from all the teams in the paddock that followed a punishing schedule to turn out in a different country almost every fortnight for about eight months a year, and give their best. It didn’t matter where they were placed. For the top-tier teams, it was about championships. For the midfield, there were prospects of getting into the points and securing the odd podium position. For the tail-end teams, it meant securing enough money to stay afloat. I would watch the mechanics of Minardi work relentlessly, wondering what they gained out of it. It didn’t matter that the results were not immediately evident. Drivers came and went. Most of them worked hard. Several demonstrated lessons in persistence.
However, Schumacher taught me the most. I followed his career closely, willing him to win every race — it wasn’t boring, not at all. He won some seasons with little competition, fought closely through others, but his domination was complete. Despite that, he found the hunger to return every season and keep pushing for victory. He conducted himself well, no longer getting into driver brawls (remember the near-fistfight with David Coulthard?), presenting himself as a good ambassador for the sport. He had never been a wild child like James Hunt or Lewis Hamilton, drivers widely judged for their partying/yachting lifestyles; that didn’t mean that Schumacher was universally revered.
Schumacher’s driving career, without doubt, was controversial. We like holding our sporting heroes (indeed, all heroes) to high standards. We are disappointed when they show shades of grey. We forget that they are human and expect them to behave impeccably, given the influence they have. Schumacher didn’t always conform to those expectations. Regular allegations of rash driving aside, a major controversy broke out during the qualifying session of the 2006 Monaco Grand Prix. Followers of the sport know how important securing a good starting position on the Monaco grid is: as a tight street track, it offers virtually no overtaking opportunities, often ending up with processional races. Schumacher stopped by a tyre barrier close to the end of the session, claiming he had stalled, even as the rest of the grid accused him of cheating. Closest rival Fernando Alonso had lost an opportunity to try for pole position. Schumacher defended himself staunchly against all the allegations.
It was hard watching this. It brought to mind the incidents of Adelaide 1994 and Jerez 1997, both of which I hadn’t watched, but which I knew from F1 history as infamous blots on Schumacher’s stellar career. The run-ins were with Damon Hill who lost the championship in 1994, and Jacques Villeneuve who went on to win in 1997 as Schumacher was stripped of all his points. As a fan, it isn’t hard to think that people are out to get your idol, and I often did, but I also felt uncomfortable about these incidents sometimes. Of course, there must be very few top F1 drivers who haven’t been accused of cheating. Ayrton Senna, one of the sport’s most revered, often had such allegations flung against him. Some people write this off as part of the natural aggression of F1 drivers — the need to win at any cost. Does that excuse cheating, though? Schumacher left me with a few unresolved conflicts in my head. It is easy for me to take the high horse from my armchair, yet would I have behaved differently in the sportsperson’s circumstances, under the pressure they were facing?
There are some things about F1 I don’t admire: the practice of having grid-girls on the track, for example. F1 also needs to do a lot more to be inclusive than just open tracks in new Asian markets. I take heart in the emergence of women like Monisha Kaltenborn, who led the Sauber team and was involved in important roles with them for several years. I once wanted to be like her, perhaps set up my own team. I’m older now, maybe a bit wiser, though still dreaming.
Schumacher made me pay more attention to Physics classes in high school. I harboured dreams of working with an F1 team at some point. When Vijay Mallya became co-owner of Spyker F1 to restructure it as Force India, I told someone that I wanted to join them. I was asked to aim higher, which made me hope that I could. I was excited about India being on the F1 radar. The high point of my very few celebrity interactions remains my fumbling two-sentence chat with Bernie Ecclestone in 2009, when I told him I loved F1, and he told me he was bringing it to India. I realise now that I should have asked him for a job then. My plan was to become a journalist and then get into motorsport. In the end, I never became a journalist. Now, do I feel like I could have achieved more by this age? Yes, I do, but I am not complaining about where I am. Many years of learning lie ahead.
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Schumacher suffered a horrific head injury in 2013, fought for his life, emerged victorious, and is now undergoing rehabilitation at home. We know little about his condition, indeed there is more speculation than actual information, but it is enough for me to know that he is there, pushing for what he wants. In that weird relationship we have with our heroes, knowing that they exist in their sphere inspires us to make an extra effort in our own lives. This is selfish, nevertheless it helps many of us get through periods of despair or hopelessness. Keep fighting, Michael.
When the world seems bleak, knowing that an F1 race or season is around the corner can work wonders: especially if Kimi Raikkonen is giving interviews. The Japanese Grand Prix takes place tomorrow. Here’s hoping for a Sebastian Vettel victory and some memorable lines from Raikkonen.
