Fast forward to that fateful weekend at Imola, in 1994, and the question
gradually shifted from ‘why did Senna crash?’, to ‘why did he die?’ How
could Formula One, and Brazil for that matter, lose its greatest son?
When Senna died, there was outrage. Politicians in Italy, the home of Ferrari
and perhaps the most F1-obsessed country in the world, called for the sport
to be banned. It is arguable that only the loss of Senna could have prompted
such a major transformation. His death was a crystallising moment, which
enabled the agenda of safety to be truly embraced.
“There was a general complacency in the sport, because no driver had died at a
race weekend for 12 years,” Max Mosley, then FIA president, told Telegraph
Sport. “People thought we had done enough. It was obvious to us at the FIA
that the speed of the cars exceeded the safety precautions in place, but we
were constantly rebuffed by the F1 establishment. The mentality had not
changed much since the 1960s when it was – ‘if it’s dangerous, slow down’.
That, of course, was nonsense.
“Unlike Clark’s death however, Senna’s was a worldwide media event. It
provoked a hysteria which forced the old establishment to realise something
had to be done. It is a shame it took the death of the sport’s most famous
driver, but it was such a high-profile event and prompted such an outpouring
of grief that quick action became possible.
“I think Senna’s death allowed those of us in the sport arguing for safety to
get changes made. Twenty years on from his crash, the fact no Formula One
driver has died since, as well as enormous improvements in road safety, is
testament to the scale of the event. That Imola weekend was the catalyst for
change on the roads that has literally, without
question, saved tens of thousands of lives.”
All this is not to say that the death of Roland Ratzenberger in Imola the day
before Senna’s fatal crash would not have triggered a response. But Senna’s
demise, after shooting off the dilapidated track’s Tamburello corner at
191mph, ensured an incredibly swift response.
The Grand Prix Drivers’ Association, dormant since F1’s last fatality eight
years before, was rapidly re-formed. Corners such as Tamburello were
redesigned. A chicane was even installed at the legendary Eau Rouge in Spa
for the 1994 race.
In a matter of months, shocked into action by the loss of the three-time world
champion, it was determined the size and therefore the power of the engines
would be reduced; the size of the front wing and diffuser was reduced to
slow the cars down; the height of the sides of the cockpit were increased
for better protection, and the front wishbones were reduced to stop wheels
becoming loose.
Longer-term, the alterations – agreed upon by a safety group headed by Prof
Watkins – were much more fundamental, to road safety as well as Formula One.
Although they are often derided, the Hermann Tilke generation of tracks are
designed to allow huge run-off areas. The monocoque of the car, where the
driver is housed, has gone from being flimsy to almost impregnable. A
comparison of Ratzenberger’s crash and that of Robert Kubica, in Montreal 13
years later, illustrates the point.
F1 remains dangerous, but the drivers of today are not faced with the same
threat to their life as the drivers of Senna’s era were.
David Coulthard, who straddled both periods and was Senna’s replacement at
Williams, says: “The thoughts that might have occurred to other people – is
it safe to get in this car? – never occurred to me. I was a 23-year-old
making my way, so you don’t think about death. The thought process is
simple: It doesn’t happen to you.
“It was a massive wake-up call that it could happen to Senna, the best driver
in the world. But the fact that he had been killed by the suspension hitting
the helmet – a sort of freak occurrence – in some ways similar to the Felipe
Massa accident in 2009, gave some comfort to the other drivers at that time.”
That is the mentality of Formula One drivers. But Senna’s accident gave those
who governed the sport the mandate to reform safety. It had become
unacceptable, in the public’s perception at least, to die in the name of
sport.
For many this week the anniversary will be a reminder of how untimely the
Brazilian’s death was, and how much more he could have achieved in the
sport, and in life.
Two decades on, it should be remembered his accident not only helped save the
life of Martin Brundle, just two years later, along with a number of other
Formula One drivers, but tens of thousands on the road. Arguably, that is
his most tangible legacy.