Driving On The Edge
by Bill Doolittle
Ayrton Senna was without doubt one of the all-time great drivers in
the history of motorsports. Some people will argue that Fangio, or
Prost, or Clark, or Stewart was the greatest, but arguments about who
was "the" greatest really accomplish little. All of these drivers were
great in their own right. Some were "faster" than others. Some were
"smoother." Some were fascinating personalities as well. We all have
our favorites and for good reason. I never saw Fangio but I remember
Clark blowing the doors off everyone else when he came to Indy. I
remember Stewart dominating the track and the TV screen. I remember
Prost, "the professor," who won more races than anyone else.
And, I remember Senna.
 Senna's death was particularly hard on me for two reasons. First, I,
like thousands of race fans, watched it on TV; he died before our eyes
and we all knew it. It was not unlike watching the Vietnam war unfold
on the evening news while we tried to eat dinner. Second, I watched it
with my son to whom Senna was a hero. Believe me, it is not easy to
watch an idol and an ideal evaporate before your eyes. I lost more
than just "Senna" last May 1st. I lost much, much more.
Was Senna the greatest? To me he was, not only because of my son, but
because of the way he did his job. But, this raises an interesting
question. What is a race car driver's job? To win races, right? Not
necessarily. Sometimes team orders come into play and drivers are
instructed to help their teammate. Sometimes drivers are instructed to
simply "bring the car home," meaning to finish the race with the car
undamaged. Some drivers are on-board computers who collect data and
return it to the crew for making adjustments as well as being pilots.
You get the idea. There is more to driving a race car than simply
putting the pedal to the metal, shifting gears, and turning the wheel.
It is difficult, if not impossible, to compare drivers of different
eras, in large part because their equipment was so different. Prost
drove cars technologically more sophisticated than those driven by
Clark, and the cars Clark drove were more advanced than those that
Fangio drove. And, how about athletecism? No one would deny that
Mansell is more physically fit than Graham Hill who was in better
shape than Ascari. Does this mean that earlier drivers were better
than their later counterparts because they accomplished as much or
more with inferior equipment and in a poorer state of personal
conditioning? I, for one, don't necessarily think that fat drivers
with skinny tires were better than skinny drivers with fat tires.
Indeed, the counter argument might be that it takes physically fit
drivers to operate the high tech cars of today. But this argument is
spurious as well. Neither argument factors in personality.
To be fair in comparing drivers, one needs to examine personality and
focus on comtemporaries. In Senna's case, the only drivers who are
even remotely comparable are Prost, Mansell, and Piquet--World
Champions of the late '80s and early '90s. Using numbers alone, a good
case can be made that each was the best. Piquet drove the most races
and won the championship three times. Mansell won the championship
only once, but lost it several times due to misfortune (e.g., wheels
falling off while exiting the pits). Prost won more championships and
more races than anyone else, and he won 51 of his 199 races, a
remarkable 26%! And, then there was Senna. He started from the pole in
40% of the races he drove, 64 times or more than twice as often as
anyone else, and, of course, he was a three time champion.
As good as they are, the numbers for Piquet and Mansell do not compare
to those of Prost and Senna. Mansell won the pole on 31 times or 17%
of his starts, and Piquet began up front 24 times or 12% of the time.
Mansell won 30 times or 17% of his races and Piquet won 23 or 11% of
his starts. In terms of personality, neither Piquet nor Mansell can
stand up to the racing integrity of Prost or Senna. Piquet long
enjoyed the reputation of any easy-going guy. He was good, to be sure,
but not driven. Mansell is highly motivated, but his whining and
complaining are not the hallmarks of a world class guy, much less the
best driver.
The comparison then is down to two, Prost and Senna. At first glance,
Prost wins on numbers. He won the championship four times; Senna won
it three. Prost won 51 races; Senna won 41. Case closed, right? Wrong.
Let's dig deeper. Prost and Senna won the same percentage of their
starts--26. In Prost's case it was the previously mentioned 51 of 199.
In Senna's, it was 41 of 160. Could Senna have won 10 more races had
he not died? Easily. At the time of his death, Senna was driving the
best car on the track. His relatively inexperienced teammate won four
races last year in an identical car. Senna would have done that well,
and undoubtedly better. He probably would have then been rewarded with
a contract for 1995 and gone on to win another five races. Could he
have won a fourth world championship? Damon Hill, his previously
mentioned teammate, nearly won it last year. Senna would have.
But what about personality? Prost was a winner. He admitted that his
goal wasn't to be the fastest (although he has more fastest laps than
anyone else). His goal was to win. If he could back-off a little and
relax during the last few laps of a race, he would. He drove only as
hard as was required to win. He was a master at taking care of his
equipment. He was in fewer accidents and experienced fewer mechanical
breakdowns than either Mansell, Prost, or Senna. A very, very good
case can be made for him being the best.
But I liked Senna's combination of pure skill with a go-for-broke
attitude. Senna was the "rainmeister." Everyone knows that. When it
came to skillful handling, there was never anyone as good as Senna on
a wet track. Rain is considered by most drivers and race fans as the
great equalizer. When Senna was on the track, however, it signaled
the sure winner. What most people overlook is that Senna was every bit
as skillful on a dry track, more so than anyone else. Factoring out
collisions with other cars (blame for which is usually impossible to
agree upon), and spins due to mechanical failure and things on the
track, Senna lost control of his car only seven times or 4.3% of the
races he drove. Prost, in the way of comparison, lost control 10 times
or in 5% of his races; good, but given his propensity to back-off in
certain situations, not good enough.
Senna, like Prost, drove to win. But Senna pulled out all the stops,
all the time. When I think about Senna's view of winning, I cannot
help but think of something Mickey Mantle once said. An interviewer
asked him if he ever felt like putting his entire might into hitting a
home run when he came to bat. Mantle answered: "Every time." That, I
suspect, applied to Senna as well. He drove flat out from start to
finish 160 times. In the process, he rarely lost control.
Senna drove on the edge. When things went right, they went very right.
Unfortunately, when things went wrong, they went very wrong. Some
critics might say Senna was careless. These individuals, I contend,
are losers. Senna was a winner. He was not only a winner, but a
competitor as well. Indeed, he was the epitome of competitors.
Numerous drivers were winners, and several were competitors. There has
been only one driver in recent times who was both a winner and a
competitor, Ayrton Senna. I am glad he was my son's hero. He was mine.
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