Green Races Red
Green Races Red
Maurice Hamilton
Eddie Irvine
Originally published in 1997 and now available as an ebook.This edition does not include illustrations.Eddie Irvine is a breath of fresh air in the serious world of Formula 1.Selected to drive for Ferrari alongside double world champion Michael Schumacher, the 1996 season proved to be a frustrating period for the Irishman as he struggled to get to grips with a temperamental car and live up to the high expectations of the media and the tifosi.But as he demonstrates in his fascinating insight into the world of Ferrari, Irvine's flamboyant personality and aggressive driving style meant he was never far from the action, both on and off the track.Irvine lifts the lid on his attempts to prove his worth at Ferrari and recalls all the crashes and crises, thrills and spills of the 1997 season.
Copyright (#ulink_1fa2c539-8ea0-5eb6-9ed0-adbc52c790cd)
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First published in hardback in 1996
Copyright © Tidswell Ltd 1996, 1997
Eddie Irvine, With Maurice Hamilton asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
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Source ISBN: 9780002187633
Ebook Edition © JANUARY 2017 ISBN: 9780007564798
Version: 2017-01-18
Dedication (#ulink_896774b4-51ec-53c2-af50-43861f7f2017)
To my Mum, Dad and grandparents. Without their support, none of this would have been possible.
Contents
Cover (#uefcbd6ff-ea0d-5b30-9e88-b93753bef0a4)
Title Page (#u1e752093-b3bc-557d-903d-6a97da3859a2)
Copyright (#ulink_19a31c1a-5060-509f-8b49-f4000ef38b0a)
Dedication (#ulink_370832d1-79f3-5c94-b99d-7c9f71e067dd)
Preface (#ulink_e99bebda-41e1-58c1-be0d-a6108a094663)
1 (#ulink_604df070-ebcd-5ce9-b1ec-8f27970ada6f)No Big Deal (#ulink_604df070-ebcd-5ce9-b1ec-8f27970ada6f)
2 (#ulink_af59b991-97b3-5405-b1aa-c378f707a260)Too Good To Be True (#ulink_af59b991-97b3-5405-b1aa-c378f707a260)
3 (#ulink_78428c78-9a60-5c3a-b4ed-b840e1ff1bfd)Showing My Colours (#ulink_78428c78-9a60-5c3a-b4ed-b840e1ff1bfd)
4 (#ulink_c12b6541-d2f4-595d-847c-0d78f859fab3)A Couple of Points (#ulink_c12b6541-d2f4-595d-847c-0d78f859fab3)
5 (#ulink_7044448a-c238-5d54-ac03-17bf285ce75d)Formula Ford and Fray Bentos (#ulink_7044448a-c238-5d54-ac03-17bf285ce75d)
6 (#ulink_4ecc089a-c392-59bd-ba5b-2ba82043c50e)The Gap Grows in Germany (#ulink_4ecc089a-c392-59bd-ba5b-2ba82043c50e)
7 (#ulink_7a9deb20-f9ca-5887-b1cc-6423d7371be8)A Drop of the Hard Stuff (#ulink_7a9deb20-f9ca-5887-b1cc-6423d7371be8)
8 (#ulink_7650e45f-5b63-57a1-acd5-ff2181814b98)A Bit of a Pain (#ulink_7650e45f-5b63-57a1-acd5-ff2181814b98)
9 (#ulink_99fcb2ec-0b5f-540f-909a-00f66180b08d)Monaco: Home in a Boat (#ulink_99fcb2ec-0b5f-540f-909a-00f66180b08d)
10 (#ulink_0be8bf11-9db8-5829-8d2a-9b89927a1f20)Orient Excess (#ulink_0be8bf11-9db8-5829-8d2a-9b89927a1f20)
11 (#ulink_cc35eb8a-ac5f-535b-ba06-234cd4a6b558)A Bloody Nose (#ulink_cc35eb8a-ac5f-535b-ba06-234cd4a6b558)
12 (#ulink_2c4d512f-ff1a-545b-af71-4f67daa745bf)Real Bad News (#ulink_2c4d512f-ff1a-545b-af71-4f67daa745bf)
13 (#ulink_f467ab7f-a02e-55d9-9ab6-32be0d79fec3)A Punishing Schedule (#ulink_f467ab7f-a02e-55d9-9ab6-32be0d79fec3)
14 (#ulink_ffe8c3dd-e47d-5783-af4b-f17e84ccfa67)Engineering Success (#ulink_ffe8c3dd-e47d-5783-af4b-f17e84ccfa67)
15 (#ulink_6cd499c0-0293-520e-9cf0-938b69a0a45a)Tyre Bashing at Monza (#ulink_6cd499c0-0293-520e-9cf0-938b69a0a45a)
16 (#ulink_e8fb8711-7aaa-59c2-a7df-46fa1f0482b3)What is Damon Really Like? (#ulink_e8fb8711-7aaa-59c2-a7df-46fa1f0482b3)
17 (#ulink_ffd3a735-5d08-58ea-9af1-9bd04225ddd2)End of Term in Tokyo (#ulink_ffd3a735-5d08-58ea-9af1-9bd04225ddd2)
18 (#ulink_c8074f10-b261-5ffd-95c4-55038e0dd9f1)Into the Second Year (#ulink_c8074f10-b261-5ffd-95c4-55038e0dd9f1)
Formula 1 World Championship Results 1996 (#ulink_adc7dbec-6e2a-5225-b3cd-fdaff117a275)
Formula 1 World Championship Results 1997 (#ulink_d7fbdf93-87c5-5863-a1bd-5135ee89688a)
Biography (#ulink_cd502aa0-6213-51ae-bf55-9e01535bd47c)
Acknowledgements (#ulink_1fa80739-6cf2-5446-9096-b738b694e29c)
About the Publisher (#ulink_989c6399-4a41-5f50-9002-769b822e86e2)
Preface (#ulink_2f14647e-8e2e-56d7-84d5-02ed3a89a5c7)
The chapters that follow tell the story of my first two years with Ferrari. But they also look back on my early years in motor racing and touch on the many people who have helped me along the way. I would like to use this book as a means of thanking all the teams for whom I have driven, and everyone who has helped me to get where I am today. There are too many to name individually. They know who they are.
I would also like to thank Jean Todt and the Ferrari team for their assistance and support in producing this book. Thanks also to my publishers, HarperCollins, and to Maurice Hamilton, and Keith Sutton and Allsport, for help with the words and pictures respectively. And I must not forget my sister, Sonia, and manager Rod Vickery, for generally keeping an eye on me and helping things run smoothly.
Eddie Irvine
Jerez, Spain
October 1997
CHAPTER 1 (#ulink_b86fd386-c62b-5302-8691-5a43ff387591)
No Big Deal (#ulink_b86fd386-c62b-5302-8691-5a43ff387591)
Ask any young racing driver and he’ll tell you that the idea of joining Ferrari means everything. That’s the way I felt while racing in Ireland in Formula Ford. It’s something to dream about when you’re struggling along with few opportunities and even less money. Mention Formula 1 and you automatically think of Ferrari. If a driver gets himself into one of the red cars, he has it made.
But when it actually happens, as it did for me when I joined Ferrari in October 1995, the reality is not so difficult to take on board. The point is, I was not as gobsmacked as I thought I would be.
I don’t know whether it’s because I get used to things quickly or that maybe other drivers exaggerate when joining a new team. In my case, I never regard anything like that as a big deal. And yet there was no doubt that signing for Ferrari had to be the biggest deal of my life.
I felt much the same at the end of the first race of the 1996 season in Australia. I finished on the podium but, to be honest, third place in the Ferrari was not much to write home about. It meant nothing. For me, it’s all about doing a really, really good job – and I didn’t feel I had achieved that in Melbourne mainly because the situation was not there to allow me to do a good job.
Anyone could have brought that car home third; the most significant fact was that the F310 had finished at all. It was a minor miracle after the huge dramas we had gone through in the weeks leading up to the start of the season. At one point, after seemingly endless delays and problems, I never thought we would make it to the first race and, if we did, Ferrari would be totally embarrassed. It just goes to show that you certainly can’t take anything for granted in motor racing.
The previous September, for instance, I was absolutely sure I would be spending a third season with the Jordan team in 1996. I didn’t really want to do that, but there seemed to be no other way because of a watertight contract with the team.
It’s true that team boss Eddie Jordan had given me my chance in Formula 1. He had offered me a drive in the 1993 Japanese Grand Prix at Suzuka and I had taken it. I had spent three years racing in Japan so I knew the circuit well. I had also earned quite a bit of money during my time in the Far East – but Eddie Jordan was not exactly offering a similar reward! It was no big deal in every sense. But I can’t deny that it was a good opportunity to establish my name in Formula 1. I managed to do that at Suzuka – although not quite in the way I had expected.
I finished sixth in my first Formula 1 drive and scored a Championship point. Everyone seemed pretty excited about that, mainly because Jordan had been having a poor season and, with my team-mate Rubens Barrichello taking fifth place, this was the first time the team had scored any points in almost a year. But as far as I was concerned, the real excitement had yet to come.
During the race, I had been challenging Damon Hill for fourth place. The track was in the process of drying out after a heavy shower, Damon had changed to slick tyres and I was on wets, which were definitely the thing to have while the track was still slippery. I wanted to make the most of my knowledge of Suzuka because I knew where there was grip to be found and I wanted to pass Hill while the going was good from my point of view.
Leader Ayrton Senna came past and lapped me, but then instead of doing the same to Damon he seemed to become over-cautious. Damon’s car was sliding around quite a bit and Ayrton was not keen to try and pass. But I was. So I overtook Senna and unlapped myself. It was no big deal … at least, not for me.
It turned out that Senna was mad as hell over that manoeuvre. Nobody had dared to do such a thing to him before. After the race he came down to see me, which was a bit difficult because he wasn’t exactly sure what I looked like. He soon found out, however, and we had a discussion, of sorts.
I explained things the way I saw them; I didn’t feel there was any need to apologise because I had done nothing wrong. The race stewards had seen no reason to take any action but Senna was not impressed. Apparently I had not shown enough respect. Fair enough; that was his point of view. Case closed.
Except he wanted to leave me a reminder with his fist. The blow knocked me to the floor and onto the front pages of the world’s newspapers. Everyone made a meal of the episode but I couldn’t see what all the fuss was about. The best bit, I thought, was that Eddie Jordan had missed the drama in his own backyard. Eddie can’t resist a microphone or a television camera and, of course, as soon as the news got out, the Jordan garage was inundated. But Eddie wasn’t there. He had cleared off on holiday and missed the chance of an important sound-bite or two.
I signed a three-year contract with Jordan at the beginning of 1994 and settled down to learn about Formula 1. Some of the lessons were to be pretty painful. At the first race in Brazil, I became involved in a four-car shunt. I won’t go into too much detail now, except to say that the accident had nothing to do with me. Jos Verstappen caused it while trying to overtake as we came across two cars, one of which was in trouble and slowing. Verstappen could see what was going on, and yet he still kept his foot down – even when he went onto the grass. Everyone else was avoiding the accident when Verstappen lost control on the grass, came right into me – and off we all went. It was a huge shunt.
The race officials decided I should take the wrap and I was eventually banned for three races. It was a hell of a penalty. Some time later, there was a bit of back-pedalling by certain people in authority but, at the end of the day, the driver is powerless. There’s nothing you can do; you just have to suffer the consequences. That incident really set me back. I missed out on the experience of racing; there is, after all, no substitute for miles behind the wheel. Something like that is bound to affect your confidence, no matter how hard you try to shrug it off.
I spent the rest of the 1994 season learning, picking up points here and there and generally rebuilding my confidence and my reputation. By the time I was half way through 1995, I knew it was time to leave Jordan.
I told Eddie Jordan that, if his team stayed as it was, I would not be driving for him the following year. My wages for 1996 were to be based on the results achieved in 1995. But my car kept breaking down, so on that basis the contract was totally unfair; I had missed out on prize money in 1995 and now it was going to affect my earnings in 1996. Of course, Eddie didn’t agree; he said it was normal. There was to be no arguing with him. At that point, I decided to look elsewhere.
At the second race of the season in Argentina, I had met Luca di Montezemolo, the President of Ferrari. I had qualified fourth in Buenos Aires and Luca came to see me. He said ‘Well done’, or words to that effect. Then he said he heard that I had a Ferrari road car. He had been told that I had tested various sports cars and none of them had been in the same league as my Ferrari GTO. I said that was correct. I had written favourably about it – so perhaps he ought to give me a discount on spare parts! He seemed to like that. I’m still waiting for the discount…
But contact had been made. Not long after, Mike Greasley, who was handling my contractual affairs, spoke to Niki Lauda. The former world champion was acting as advisor to Ferrari and he was interested in finding out about my position with Jordan. My contract had a buy-out clause. When Lauda heard how much Ferrari would have to pay, he said it was ridiculous. So that seemed to be the end of the matter.
After my fruitless discussions with EJ, however, I was taking a serious look around. I talked to Tom Walkinshaw who, at the time, was effectively running the Ligier team. He made Jordan an offer – which was rejected largely because the money was not right and also because a move by me from Jordan to Ligier would be seen as a slap in the face for EJ. He knew people would ask why one of his drivers would want to leave and join a team which was no better. He also knew I would probably tell anyone who asked!
Meanwhile, I had been tipped off to keep in touch with Ferrari. As autumn approached, things began to move quickly. Ferrari were definitely interested in me, but we had to sort out a deal with Jordan. By now I was desperate to leave.
I had been qualifying ahead of my team-mate Rubens Barrichello at most races. There had been a time when Rubens was being hailed as the next Ayrton Senna, but now he was being devalued to the extent that there was no point in me beating him. The guy was no longer in anyone’s Top 10. Staying at Jordan was not going to do my reputation any good either; moving to Ferrari had to be right in every respect. If only we could do the deal.
I asked EJ if he could help me go to Ferrari. He said he thought he could – meaning, if the money was right, anything was possible. We flew to the offices of Ferrari’s lawyer in Switzerland and agreement was reached. Ferrari had offered a lot of money to have reigning World Champion Michael Schumacher move from Benetton, so there was not much left in the kitty to pay me. In fact, most of it went towards the buy-out clause and into the Jordan bank account. But the most important thing was, I was joining Ferrari.
As soon as the 1995 season ended, my feet hardly seemed to touch the ground. Jordan were extracting their pound of flesh by keeping me busy with public relations work right up to the end of the contract. Meanwhile, I had begun testing for Ferrari.
It was immediately apparent that this was a different world compared to what I had been used to. Ferrari had the resources to get things done. At Jordan, it had more or less been down to my engineer Andrew Green and I to sort things out. At Ferrari, there were people coming at you from all directions. Of course, having the reigning World Champion on board was a big help! They had employed Michael Schumacher because he was the best. Now they had to give him the support he would expect, and I could only benefit from that.
Everyone had been asking me how I expected to cope with being the number 2 to Schumacher. It was if I had committed suicide – they were convinced that my reputation would be totally destroyed by this man – but I honestly could not see the problem. Being the number 2 in the team was to be expected. Schumacher had won the Championship twice and he had put in some rather good performances along the way! Ferrari were going to give me every-thing they could to enable me to be right behind Michael at the end of each race. Okay, I would not be able to win if I was leading and he was lying second. But that was fair enough. There would be a concentrated effort to win the Championship and Michael had to be a better bet than me. I couldn’t see the difficulty with that point of view. Anyway, as the 1996 season approached, the team began to have far more important problems than that.
The new F310 car was late. The deadlines kept being put back, and back, and then back again. Finally, the launch of the F310 was delayed until 15 February, just over two weeks before the car had to be ready for shipment to Australia for the first Grand Prix of the season in Melbourne.
We couldn’t wait to get going in the F310. Michael began testing – and ran into problems straight away. Oil was leaking from a spacer which is designed to separate the gearbox from the engine. It was not a simple fix because of the very intricate work in the gearbox itself. Time was running out. It was panic stations; quite unbelievable. Everyone was working their backsides off. I had never experienced anything like it.
With one week to go, we reached the stage where there was no longer any point in panicking; it was a case of simply letting it happen. But, having said that, the team was seriously concerned that we would go to Melbourne and be completely humiliated.
All the spacers kept leaking. We had one remade – and that leaked. It was a gorgeous piece of engineering work, but bloody complicated. Ferrari were the only team to have this spacer, the advantage being that it was very light – provided it worked.
In the end the spacer needed to be redesigned and remanu-factured. But that’s where Ferrari excel. Because they are so big they can take a chance and, if necessary, they can get things changed. Jordan, for example, could never try and bring a car out that late, because if something went wrong, they would be finished. That’s not a criticism. It’s just a statement of fact. Jordan could not afford to do something so adventurous, and the very same thing applies to the majority of teams.
Having said that, it seemed very disorganised at Ferrari mainly because we were in so much trouble with so many things. Every time I went to drive the car, something happened. If it wasn’t the spacer, then it was something else. We would fix that and then the fault with the spacer would raise its head again. It was problem after problem; quite unreal.
I felt very sorry for the team because the car was beautifully engineered, and extremely well made. It was just incomprehensible that so many things could go wrong. And, as the deadline for the new season approached, life became absolutely frantic.
Ferrari was receiving sponsorship for the first time from Asprey, the jewellers. Naturally, they wanted to make an impact and a very formal function had been arranged for one evening at their premises in London’s Bond Street. Michael and I both had to be present. Personally I felt like a bit of a puppet standing around in my bright red driving overalls while everyone else was dressed to kill. Anyway, it was all part of the job, although a much more serious duty was waiting for me at Ferrari’s Fiorano test track in Italy.
The original plan (of many!) had been for me to finish final testing at Fiorano, fly to London for the Asprey function and then leave Heathrow the next afternoon for Japan, en route to Australia. Some hope. With everything in such chaos, I was needed in Fiorano the next day.
I got up at 6 am to fly to Milan, and then drove like mad to reach Fiorano because I needed to catch a 2 pm plane from Bologna back to London in order to make the connection with the Tokyo flight. On the way down the autostrada, I rang my engineer to make sure everything was ready. He said, ‘Yep, no problem. We’re just about to take the car over to the circuit.’
I got to Fiorano, only to find that the car had suddenly developed a fuel leak. Yet another new problem had surfaced from nowhere. These things happen, I suppose. I was told there was no longer any point in me waiting. For once, I was quite happy about the setback; at least I would be able to make a quick return to London. So I set off and, just as I pulled up at Bologna Airport, I received a call from Fiorano with the message: ‘Come back’.
The implications were too much to even think about. All week I had been booking flights and changing my plans. My travel agent reached the stage where he did not want to answer the phone because he knew it would be me with another alteration. At one point, I was booked on several flights and I didn’t have a clue which one I was going to be able to catch – British Airways, ANA, JAL, you name the flight to Tokyo, and I was on it.
I returned to Fiorano, hopped into the car, drove 200 yards – and there was yet another problem. I had gone beyond the stage of being either surprised or upset. I was almost past caring. The intention had been to go to Tokyo for some meetings and to do a couple of interviews. I could forget that because now I would be leaving London the next day. I just switched off and relaxed. It was a very pleasant afternoon, so I sat in the sun and waited while they worked on the car.
Everything was ready to roll just before dark. We did a couple of runs which were actually quite useful because we discovered something very interesting in connection with the engine temperatures. Once I had finished, I had to see Montezemolo and tell him what the car was like. Then I had to report to Jean Todt, the team manager, and discuss what we had found.
All the while, I was aware that I really needed to catch the last flight out of Milan. I didn’t want to leave my departure until the first flight the following morning because the risk of being fogged in at Milan was too great. Either that or not being able to land at Heathrow for the same reason. Travelling between two of the foggiest airports in Europe was leaving too much to chance if I wanted to catch the next flight to Tokyo.
I had not driven the Ferrari flat out during the brief test at Fiorano; that was not the point of the exercise. Certainly, I was far safer in the F310 than I would be during a wild drive to Milan. I have to admit, I drove like a lunatic that night. The little Fiat Coupe I had been given was capable of 140 mph. I was doing all of that – most of it on the hard shoulder! I was overtaking on all sides, absolutely flat out. I just had to catch this flight. It was madness. I was watching the traffic, knowing it would only take some guy in a little Fiat to wander into my path and we’d all be history. I’ve never been so scared. I reached Linate airport with five minutes to spare. I stopped at the front door, ran inside the terminal, dumped the car keys at the Alitalia desk and said someone from Ferrari would come and pick up the car on Monday. This was a Friday night! That’s the fantastic thing about driving for Ferrari. Once the Italians hear that name, nothing is a problem any more. They rushed me through and I got on the flight by the skin of my teeth.
Despite arriving in Japan a day late, I managed to rearrange my schedule without too much difficulty. It helped that I felt completely at home in Tokyo. I really love going there. Having spent three great years racing in Japan and being based in the capital, each time I return, it seems like I’m reliving my childhood.
All the European or foreign drivers – there was usually about half a dozen of us – would stay in the President Hotel. It was home-from-home and so much more convenient than renting a tiny apartment. Everyone knows me there. I quickly fall into a familiar routine.
I will walk down to the Hard Rock Cafe for lunch, then amuse myself by playing Space Invaders or checking out the latest magazines. Then back to the hotel, perhaps for a snooze before dinner, and then on to the night clubs. I know my way around. I feel very comfortable in Tokyo and, in some ways, it is even better than being in Dublin. It feels more personal. I live near Dublin so I’m obviously in the city quite often. But it’s somehow special visiting Tokyo, a bit like returning every now and then to a favourite holiday haunt.
It is an appropriate description because this was the first time I had been able to relax for quite some time. I had arranged to share a flat in Bologna but I had been unable to find time to unwind as the team would regularly call me to Fiorano. It is a forty-minute run on average – I’ve done it in twenty-three minutes but it’s not healthy at that rate. I prefer just to plod along. Inevitably I would show up and a problem would have arisen. I would then return to Bologna, but being on call meant it was impossible to organise anything, and I couldn’t even go to the gym. It made life very difficult.
I had to be ready for action at all hours. The team was prepared to run until dark. Sometimes we would go beyond that. There were occasions when it was pitch black but we needed to take the car out, if only to discover what was going to go wrong next. Testing is very spectacular at night because the disc brakes glow bright orange and the row of little lights on the dashboard, indicating when it is time to change gear, flash back and forth. The exhaust pipes spit flames. It’s all very dramatic. Fantastic, actually.
It is all part of the atmosphere at Fiorano. The test track, which is owned by Ferrari, is on the edge of Maranello and there is always a sizeable crowd pressed against the fence. As a Ferrari driver, you are continually under the microscope. All the talk among the crowd is about lap times. It doesn’t matter that you might be trying various ideas out on the car and lap times are out of the question. In front of the tifosi, there is always this pressure to perform. When I completed my first laps at Fiorano, I was trying to do decent times – and I could tell the team were encouraging that because they kept giving me fresh tyres. With Michael, it was the reverse. They were trying to slow him down because he was a known quantity and they didn’t want him to show his hand with the new car.
When Fiorano was built in the early seventies it was way ahead of its time. In fact, Ferrari remains the only team with its own private test facility. It is extremely useful to be able to run the car whenever it suits the team rather than having to book a circuit and then travel to the track in question. Fiorano is so narrow that if you make the slightest error or deviation, it is exaggerated and shows immediately. The tifosi will stand there all day. On one occasion, because of problems, we managed just one lap, which was in the dark. And yet the fans waited from dawn to beyond dusk just to see it. There is nowhere else where that sort of thing can happen. It’s unreal.
I was thinking about the pressure induced by all that attention while I was flying from Japan to Australia. Tokyo had made the perfect stopping place en route to Melbourne: eleven hours from London then ten hours to Sydney and a short hop from there. It was the perfect split. I had time to reflect on everything that had been going wrong.
I knew it was going to be very difficult for the team but, personally, I was not that concerned. If I am criticised, it usually goes straight over the top of my head. If I’m not doing a proper job, I am aware of it. I don’t need someone to tell me. I know when I am wrong and I know when I’m right, and I don’t care what anyone else thinks. On the other hand, the Italian temperament is quite soft. They are quite susceptible to criticism and I knew there would be a lot of that flying around in Melbourne.
I really thought the whole Ferrari team was about to be massively embarrassed.
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Maurice Hamilton
Eddie Irvine
Originally published in 1997 and now available as an ebook.This edition does not include illustrations.Eddie Irvine is a breath of fresh air in the serious world of Formula 1.Selected to drive for Ferrari alongside double world champion Michael Schumacher, the 1996 season proved to be a frustrating period for the Irishman as he struggled to get to grips with a temperamental car and live up to the high expectations of the media and the tifosi.But as he demonstrates in his fascinating insight into the world of Ferrari, Irvine's flamboyant personality and aggressive driving style meant he was never far from the action, both on and off the track.Irvine lifts the lid on his attempts to prove his worth at Ferrari and recalls all the crashes and crises, thrills and spills of the 1997 season.
Copyright (#ulink_1fa2c539-8ea0-5eb6-9ed0-adbc52c790cd)
HarperNonFiction
A division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)
First published in hardback in 1996
Copyright © Tidswell Ltd 1996, 1997
Eddie Irvine, With Maurice Hamilton asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
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Source ISBN: 9780002187633
Ebook Edition © JANUARY 2017 ISBN: 9780007564798
Version: 2017-01-18
Dedication (#ulink_896774b4-51ec-53c2-af50-43861f7f2017)
To my Mum, Dad and grandparents. Without their support, none of this would have been possible.
Contents
Cover (#uefcbd6ff-ea0d-5b30-9e88-b93753bef0a4)
Title Page (#u1e752093-b3bc-557d-903d-6a97da3859a2)
Copyright (#ulink_19a31c1a-5060-509f-8b49-f4000ef38b0a)
Dedication (#ulink_370832d1-79f3-5c94-b99d-7c9f71e067dd)
Preface (#ulink_e99bebda-41e1-58c1-be0d-a6108a094663)
1 (#ulink_604df070-ebcd-5ce9-b1ec-8f27970ada6f)No Big Deal (#ulink_604df070-ebcd-5ce9-b1ec-8f27970ada6f)
2 (#ulink_af59b991-97b3-5405-b1aa-c378f707a260)Too Good To Be True (#ulink_af59b991-97b3-5405-b1aa-c378f707a260)
3 (#ulink_78428c78-9a60-5c3a-b4ed-b840e1ff1bfd)Showing My Colours (#ulink_78428c78-9a60-5c3a-b4ed-b840e1ff1bfd)
4 (#ulink_c12b6541-d2f4-595d-847c-0d78f859fab3)A Couple of Points (#ulink_c12b6541-d2f4-595d-847c-0d78f859fab3)
5 (#ulink_7044448a-c238-5d54-ac03-17bf285ce75d)Formula Ford and Fray Bentos (#ulink_7044448a-c238-5d54-ac03-17bf285ce75d)
6 (#ulink_4ecc089a-c392-59bd-ba5b-2ba82043c50e)The Gap Grows in Germany (#ulink_4ecc089a-c392-59bd-ba5b-2ba82043c50e)
7 (#ulink_7a9deb20-f9ca-5887-b1cc-6423d7371be8)A Drop of the Hard Stuff (#ulink_7a9deb20-f9ca-5887-b1cc-6423d7371be8)
8 (#ulink_7650e45f-5b63-57a1-acd5-ff2181814b98)A Bit of a Pain (#ulink_7650e45f-5b63-57a1-acd5-ff2181814b98)
9 (#ulink_99fcb2ec-0b5f-540f-909a-00f66180b08d)Monaco: Home in a Boat (#ulink_99fcb2ec-0b5f-540f-909a-00f66180b08d)
10 (#ulink_0be8bf11-9db8-5829-8d2a-9b89927a1f20)Orient Excess (#ulink_0be8bf11-9db8-5829-8d2a-9b89927a1f20)
11 (#ulink_cc35eb8a-ac5f-535b-ba06-234cd4a6b558)A Bloody Nose (#ulink_cc35eb8a-ac5f-535b-ba06-234cd4a6b558)
12 (#ulink_2c4d512f-ff1a-545b-af71-4f67daa745bf)Real Bad News (#ulink_2c4d512f-ff1a-545b-af71-4f67daa745bf)
13 (#ulink_f467ab7f-a02e-55d9-9ab6-32be0d79fec3)A Punishing Schedule (#ulink_f467ab7f-a02e-55d9-9ab6-32be0d79fec3)
14 (#ulink_ffe8c3dd-e47d-5783-af4b-f17e84ccfa67)Engineering Success (#ulink_ffe8c3dd-e47d-5783-af4b-f17e84ccfa67)
15 (#ulink_6cd499c0-0293-520e-9cf0-938b69a0a45a)Tyre Bashing at Monza (#ulink_6cd499c0-0293-520e-9cf0-938b69a0a45a)
16 (#ulink_e8fb8711-7aaa-59c2-a7df-46fa1f0482b3)What is Damon Really Like? (#ulink_e8fb8711-7aaa-59c2-a7df-46fa1f0482b3)
17 (#ulink_ffd3a735-5d08-58ea-9af1-9bd04225ddd2)End of Term in Tokyo (#ulink_ffd3a735-5d08-58ea-9af1-9bd04225ddd2)
18 (#ulink_c8074f10-b261-5ffd-95c4-55038e0dd9f1)Into the Second Year (#ulink_c8074f10-b261-5ffd-95c4-55038e0dd9f1)
Formula 1 World Championship Results 1996 (#ulink_adc7dbec-6e2a-5225-b3cd-fdaff117a275)
Formula 1 World Championship Results 1997 (#ulink_d7fbdf93-87c5-5863-a1bd-5135ee89688a)
Biography (#ulink_cd502aa0-6213-51ae-bf55-9e01535bd47c)
Acknowledgements (#ulink_1fa80739-6cf2-5446-9096-b738b694e29c)
About the Publisher (#ulink_989c6399-4a41-5f50-9002-769b822e86e2)
Preface (#ulink_2f14647e-8e2e-56d7-84d5-02ed3a89a5c7)
The chapters that follow tell the story of my first two years with Ferrari. But they also look back on my early years in motor racing and touch on the many people who have helped me along the way. I would like to use this book as a means of thanking all the teams for whom I have driven, and everyone who has helped me to get where I am today. There are too many to name individually. They know who they are.
I would also like to thank Jean Todt and the Ferrari team for their assistance and support in producing this book. Thanks also to my publishers, HarperCollins, and to Maurice Hamilton, and Keith Sutton and Allsport, for help with the words and pictures respectively. And I must not forget my sister, Sonia, and manager Rod Vickery, for generally keeping an eye on me and helping things run smoothly.
Eddie Irvine
Jerez, Spain
October 1997
CHAPTER 1 (#ulink_b86fd386-c62b-5302-8691-5a43ff387591)
No Big Deal (#ulink_b86fd386-c62b-5302-8691-5a43ff387591)
Ask any young racing driver and he’ll tell you that the idea of joining Ferrari means everything. That’s the way I felt while racing in Ireland in Formula Ford. It’s something to dream about when you’re struggling along with few opportunities and even less money. Mention Formula 1 and you automatically think of Ferrari. If a driver gets himself into one of the red cars, he has it made.
But when it actually happens, as it did for me when I joined Ferrari in October 1995, the reality is not so difficult to take on board. The point is, I was not as gobsmacked as I thought I would be.
I don’t know whether it’s because I get used to things quickly or that maybe other drivers exaggerate when joining a new team. In my case, I never regard anything like that as a big deal. And yet there was no doubt that signing for Ferrari had to be the biggest deal of my life.
I felt much the same at the end of the first race of the 1996 season in Australia. I finished on the podium but, to be honest, third place in the Ferrari was not much to write home about. It meant nothing. For me, it’s all about doing a really, really good job – and I didn’t feel I had achieved that in Melbourne mainly because the situation was not there to allow me to do a good job.
Anyone could have brought that car home third; the most significant fact was that the F310 had finished at all. It was a minor miracle after the huge dramas we had gone through in the weeks leading up to the start of the season. At one point, after seemingly endless delays and problems, I never thought we would make it to the first race and, if we did, Ferrari would be totally embarrassed. It just goes to show that you certainly can’t take anything for granted in motor racing.
The previous September, for instance, I was absolutely sure I would be spending a third season with the Jordan team in 1996. I didn’t really want to do that, but there seemed to be no other way because of a watertight contract with the team.
It’s true that team boss Eddie Jordan had given me my chance in Formula 1. He had offered me a drive in the 1993 Japanese Grand Prix at Suzuka and I had taken it. I had spent three years racing in Japan so I knew the circuit well. I had also earned quite a bit of money during my time in the Far East – but Eddie Jordan was not exactly offering a similar reward! It was no big deal in every sense. But I can’t deny that it was a good opportunity to establish my name in Formula 1. I managed to do that at Suzuka – although not quite in the way I had expected.
I finished sixth in my first Formula 1 drive and scored a Championship point. Everyone seemed pretty excited about that, mainly because Jordan had been having a poor season and, with my team-mate Rubens Barrichello taking fifth place, this was the first time the team had scored any points in almost a year. But as far as I was concerned, the real excitement had yet to come.
During the race, I had been challenging Damon Hill for fourth place. The track was in the process of drying out after a heavy shower, Damon had changed to slick tyres and I was on wets, which were definitely the thing to have while the track was still slippery. I wanted to make the most of my knowledge of Suzuka because I knew where there was grip to be found and I wanted to pass Hill while the going was good from my point of view.
Leader Ayrton Senna came past and lapped me, but then instead of doing the same to Damon he seemed to become over-cautious. Damon’s car was sliding around quite a bit and Ayrton was not keen to try and pass. But I was. So I overtook Senna and unlapped myself. It was no big deal … at least, not for me.
It turned out that Senna was mad as hell over that manoeuvre. Nobody had dared to do such a thing to him before. After the race he came down to see me, which was a bit difficult because he wasn’t exactly sure what I looked like. He soon found out, however, and we had a discussion, of sorts.
I explained things the way I saw them; I didn’t feel there was any need to apologise because I had done nothing wrong. The race stewards had seen no reason to take any action but Senna was not impressed. Apparently I had not shown enough respect. Fair enough; that was his point of view. Case closed.
Except he wanted to leave me a reminder with his fist. The blow knocked me to the floor and onto the front pages of the world’s newspapers. Everyone made a meal of the episode but I couldn’t see what all the fuss was about. The best bit, I thought, was that Eddie Jordan had missed the drama in his own backyard. Eddie can’t resist a microphone or a television camera and, of course, as soon as the news got out, the Jordan garage was inundated. But Eddie wasn’t there. He had cleared off on holiday and missed the chance of an important sound-bite or two.
I signed a three-year contract with Jordan at the beginning of 1994 and settled down to learn about Formula 1. Some of the lessons were to be pretty painful. At the first race in Brazil, I became involved in a four-car shunt. I won’t go into too much detail now, except to say that the accident had nothing to do with me. Jos Verstappen caused it while trying to overtake as we came across two cars, one of which was in trouble and slowing. Verstappen could see what was going on, and yet he still kept his foot down – even when he went onto the grass. Everyone else was avoiding the accident when Verstappen lost control on the grass, came right into me – and off we all went. It was a huge shunt.
The race officials decided I should take the wrap and I was eventually banned for three races. It was a hell of a penalty. Some time later, there was a bit of back-pedalling by certain people in authority but, at the end of the day, the driver is powerless. There’s nothing you can do; you just have to suffer the consequences. That incident really set me back. I missed out on the experience of racing; there is, after all, no substitute for miles behind the wheel. Something like that is bound to affect your confidence, no matter how hard you try to shrug it off.
I spent the rest of the 1994 season learning, picking up points here and there and generally rebuilding my confidence and my reputation. By the time I was half way through 1995, I knew it was time to leave Jordan.
I told Eddie Jordan that, if his team stayed as it was, I would not be driving for him the following year. My wages for 1996 were to be based on the results achieved in 1995. But my car kept breaking down, so on that basis the contract was totally unfair; I had missed out on prize money in 1995 and now it was going to affect my earnings in 1996. Of course, Eddie didn’t agree; he said it was normal. There was to be no arguing with him. At that point, I decided to look elsewhere.
At the second race of the season in Argentina, I had met Luca di Montezemolo, the President of Ferrari. I had qualified fourth in Buenos Aires and Luca came to see me. He said ‘Well done’, or words to that effect. Then he said he heard that I had a Ferrari road car. He had been told that I had tested various sports cars and none of them had been in the same league as my Ferrari GTO. I said that was correct. I had written favourably about it – so perhaps he ought to give me a discount on spare parts! He seemed to like that. I’m still waiting for the discount…
But contact had been made. Not long after, Mike Greasley, who was handling my contractual affairs, spoke to Niki Lauda. The former world champion was acting as advisor to Ferrari and he was interested in finding out about my position with Jordan. My contract had a buy-out clause. When Lauda heard how much Ferrari would have to pay, he said it was ridiculous. So that seemed to be the end of the matter.
After my fruitless discussions with EJ, however, I was taking a serious look around. I talked to Tom Walkinshaw who, at the time, was effectively running the Ligier team. He made Jordan an offer – which was rejected largely because the money was not right and also because a move by me from Jordan to Ligier would be seen as a slap in the face for EJ. He knew people would ask why one of his drivers would want to leave and join a team which was no better. He also knew I would probably tell anyone who asked!
Meanwhile, I had been tipped off to keep in touch with Ferrari. As autumn approached, things began to move quickly. Ferrari were definitely interested in me, but we had to sort out a deal with Jordan. By now I was desperate to leave.
I had been qualifying ahead of my team-mate Rubens Barrichello at most races. There had been a time when Rubens was being hailed as the next Ayrton Senna, but now he was being devalued to the extent that there was no point in me beating him. The guy was no longer in anyone’s Top 10. Staying at Jordan was not going to do my reputation any good either; moving to Ferrari had to be right in every respect. If only we could do the deal.
I asked EJ if he could help me go to Ferrari. He said he thought he could – meaning, if the money was right, anything was possible. We flew to the offices of Ferrari’s lawyer in Switzerland and agreement was reached. Ferrari had offered a lot of money to have reigning World Champion Michael Schumacher move from Benetton, so there was not much left in the kitty to pay me. In fact, most of it went towards the buy-out clause and into the Jordan bank account. But the most important thing was, I was joining Ferrari.
As soon as the 1995 season ended, my feet hardly seemed to touch the ground. Jordan were extracting their pound of flesh by keeping me busy with public relations work right up to the end of the contract. Meanwhile, I had begun testing for Ferrari.
It was immediately apparent that this was a different world compared to what I had been used to. Ferrari had the resources to get things done. At Jordan, it had more or less been down to my engineer Andrew Green and I to sort things out. At Ferrari, there were people coming at you from all directions. Of course, having the reigning World Champion on board was a big help! They had employed Michael Schumacher because he was the best. Now they had to give him the support he would expect, and I could only benefit from that.
Everyone had been asking me how I expected to cope with being the number 2 to Schumacher. It was if I had committed suicide – they were convinced that my reputation would be totally destroyed by this man – but I honestly could not see the problem. Being the number 2 in the team was to be expected. Schumacher had won the Championship twice and he had put in some rather good performances along the way! Ferrari were going to give me every-thing they could to enable me to be right behind Michael at the end of each race. Okay, I would not be able to win if I was leading and he was lying second. But that was fair enough. There would be a concentrated effort to win the Championship and Michael had to be a better bet than me. I couldn’t see the difficulty with that point of view. Anyway, as the 1996 season approached, the team began to have far more important problems than that.
The new F310 car was late. The deadlines kept being put back, and back, and then back again. Finally, the launch of the F310 was delayed until 15 February, just over two weeks before the car had to be ready for shipment to Australia for the first Grand Prix of the season in Melbourne.
We couldn’t wait to get going in the F310. Michael began testing – and ran into problems straight away. Oil was leaking from a spacer which is designed to separate the gearbox from the engine. It was not a simple fix because of the very intricate work in the gearbox itself. Time was running out. It was panic stations; quite unbelievable. Everyone was working their backsides off. I had never experienced anything like it.
With one week to go, we reached the stage where there was no longer any point in panicking; it was a case of simply letting it happen. But, having said that, the team was seriously concerned that we would go to Melbourne and be completely humiliated.
All the spacers kept leaking. We had one remade – and that leaked. It was a gorgeous piece of engineering work, but bloody complicated. Ferrari were the only team to have this spacer, the advantage being that it was very light – provided it worked.
In the end the spacer needed to be redesigned and remanu-factured. But that’s where Ferrari excel. Because they are so big they can take a chance and, if necessary, they can get things changed. Jordan, for example, could never try and bring a car out that late, because if something went wrong, they would be finished. That’s not a criticism. It’s just a statement of fact. Jordan could not afford to do something so adventurous, and the very same thing applies to the majority of teams.
Having said that, it seemed very disorganised at Ferrari mainly because we were in so much trouble with so many things. Every time I went to drive the car, something happened. If it wasn’t the spacer, then it was something else. We would fix that and then the fault with the spacer would raise its head again. It was problem after problem; quite unreal.
I felt very sorry for the team because the car was beautifully engineered, and extremely well made. It was just incomprehensible that so many things could go wrong. And, as the deadline for the new season approached, life became absolutely frantic.
Ferrari was receiving sponsorship for the first time from Asprey, the jewellers. Naturally, they wanted to make an impact and a very formal function had been arranged for one evening at their premises in London’s Bond Street. Michael and I both had to be present. Personally I felt like a bit of a puppet standing around in my bright red driving overalls while everyone else was dressed to kill. Anyway, it was all part of the job, although a much more serious duty was waiting for me at Ferrari’s Fiorano test track in Italy.
The original plan (of many!) had been for me to finish final testing at Fiorano, fly to London for the Asprey function and then leave Heathrow the next afternoon for Japan, en route to Australia. Some hope. With everything in such chaos, I was needed in Fiorano the next day.
I got up at 6 am to fly to Milan, and then drove like mad to reach Fiorano because I needed to catch a 2 pm plane from Bologna back to London in order to make the connection with the Tokyo flight. On the way down the autostrada, I rang my engineer to make sure everything was ready. He said, ‘Yep, no problem. We’re just about to take the car over to the circuit.’
I got to Fiorano, only to find that the car had suddenly developed a fuel leak. Yet another new problem had surfaced from nowhere. These things happen, I suppose. I was told there was no longer any point in me waiting. For once, I was quite happy about the setback; at least I would be able to make a quick return to London. So I set off and, just as I pulled up at Bologna Airport, I received a call from Fiorano with the message: ‘Come back’.
The implications were too much to even think about. All week I had been booking flights and changing my plans. My travel agent reached the stage where he did not want to answer the phone because he knew it would be me with another alteration. At one point, I was booked on several flights and I didn’t have a clue which one I was going to be able to catch – British Airways, ANA, JAL, you name the flight to Tokyo, and I was on it.
I returned to Fiorano, hopped into the car, drove 200 yards – and there was yet another problem. I had gone beyond the stage of being either surprised or upset. I was almost past caring. The intention had been to go to Tokyo for some meetings and to do a couple of interviews. I could forget that because now I would be leaving London the next day. I just switched off and relaxed. It was a very pleasant afternoon, so I sat in the sun and waited while they worked on the car.
Everything was ready to roll just before dark. We did a couple of runs which were actually quite useful because we discovered something very interesting in connection with the engine temperatures. Once I had finished, I had to see Montezemolo and tell him what the car was like. Then I had to report to Jean Todt, the team manager, and discuss what we had found.
All the while, I was aware that I really needed to catch the last flight out of Milan. I didn’t want to leave my departure until the first flight the following morning because the risk of being fogged in at Milan was too great. Either that or not being able to land at Heathrow for the same reason. Travelling between two of the foggiest airports in Europe was leaving too much to chance if I wanted to catch the next flight to Tokyo.
I had not driven the Ferrari flat out during the brief test at Fiorano; that was not the point of the exercise. Certainly, I was far safer in the F310 than I would be during a wild drive to Milan. I have to admit, I drove like a lunatic that night. The little Fiat Coupe I had been given was capable of 140 mph. I was doing all of that – most of it on the hard shoulder! I was overtaking on all sides, absolutely flat out. I just had to catch this flight. It was madness. I was watching the traffic, knowing it would only take some guy in a little Fiat to wander into my path and we’d all be history. I’ve never been so scared. I reached Linate airport with five minutes to spare. I stopped at the front door, ran inside the terminal, dumped the car keys at the Alitalia desk and said someone from Ferrari would come and pick up the car on Monday. This was a Friday night! That’s the fantastic thing about driving for Ferrari. Once the Italians hear that name, nothing is a problem any more. They rushed me through and I got on the flight by the skin of my teeth.
Despite arriving in Japan a day late, I managed to rearrange my schedule without too much difficulty. It helped that I felt completely at home in Tokyo. I really love going there. Having spent three great years racing in Japan and being based in the capital, each time I return, it seems like I’m reliving my childhood.
All the European or foreign drivers – there was usually about half a dozen of us – would stay in the President Hotel. It was home-from-home and so much more convenient than renting a tiny apartment. Everyone knows me there. I quickly fall into a familiar routine.
I will walk down to the Hard Rock Cafe for lunch, then amuse myself by playing Space Invaders or checking out the latest magazines. Then back to the hotel, perhaps for a snooze before dinner, and then on to the night clubs. I know my way around. I feel very comfortable in Tokyo and, in some ways, it is even better than being in Dublin. It feels more personal. I live near Dublin so I’m obviously in the city quite often. But it’s somehow special visiting Tokyo, a bit like returning every now and then to a favourite holiday haunt.
It is an appropriate description because this was the first time I had been able to relax for quite some time. I had arranged to share a flat in Bologna but I had been unable to find time to unwind as the team would regularly call me to Fiorano. It is a forty-minute run on average – I’ve done it in twenty-three minutes but it’s not healthy at that rate. I prefer just to plod along. Inevitably I would show up and a problem would have arisen. I would then return to Bologna, but being on call meant it was impossible to organise anything, and I couldn’t even go to the gym. It made life very difficult.
I had to be ready for action at all hours. The team was prepared to run until dark. Sometimes we would go beyond that. There were occasions when it was pitch black but we needed to take the car out, if only to discover what was going to go wrong next. Testing is very spectacular at night because the disc brakes glow bright orange and the row of little lights on the dashboard, indicating when it is time to change gear, flash back and forth. The exhaust pipes spit flames. It’s all very dramatic. Fantastic, actually.
It is all part of the atmosphere at Fiorano. The test track, which is owned by Ferrari, is on the edge of Maranello and there is always a sizeable crowd pressed against the fence. As a Ferrari driver, you are continually under the microscope. All the talk among the crowd is about lap times. It doesn’t matter that you might be trying various ideas out on the car and lap times are out of the question. In front of the tifosi, there is always this pressure to perform. When I completed my first laps at Fiorano, I was trying to do decent times – and I could tell the team were encouraging that because they kept giving me fresh tyres. With Michael, it was the reverse. They were trying to slow him down because he was a known quantity and they didn’t want him to show his hand with the new car.
When Fiorano was built in the early seventies it was way ahead of its time. In fact, Ferrari remains the only team with its own private test facility. It is extremely useful to be able to run the car whenever it suits the team rather than having to book a circuit and then travel to the track in question. Fiorano is so narrow that if you make the slightest error or deviation, it is exaggerated and shows immediately. The tifosi will stand there all day. On one occasion, because of problems, we managed just one lap, which was in the dark. And yet the fans waited from dawn to beyond dusk just to see it. There is nowhere else where that sort of thing can happen. It’s unreal.
I was thinking about the pressure induced by all that attention while I was flying from Japan to Australia. Tokyo had made the perfect stopping place en route to Melbourne: eleven hours from London then ten hours to Sydney and a short hop from there. It was the perfect split. I had time to reflect on everything that had been going wrong.
I knew it was going to be very difficult for the team but, personally, I was not that concerned. If I am criticised, it usually goes straight over the top of my head. If I’m not doing a proper job, I am aware of it. I don’t need someone to tell me. I know when I am wrong and I know when I’m right, and I don’t care what anyone else thinks. On the other hand, the Italian temperament is quite soft. They are quite susceptible to criticism and I knew there would be a lot of that flying around in Melbourne.
I really thought the whole Ferrari team was about to be massively embarrassed.
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Maurice Hamilton и Eddie Irvine
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Биографии и мемуары
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 17.04.2024
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О книге: Originally published in 1997 and now available as an ebook.This edition does not include illustrations.Eddie Irvine is a breath of fresh air in the serious world of Formula 1.Selected to drive for Ferrari alongside double world champion Michael Schumacher, the 1996 season proved to be a frustrating period for the Irishman as he struggled to get to grips with a temperamental car and live up to the high expectations of the media and the tifosi.But as he demonstrates in his fascinating insight into the world of Ferrari, Irvine′s flamboyant personality and aggressive driving style meant he was never far from the action, both on and off the track.Irvine lifts the lid on his attempts to prove his worth at Ferrari and recalls all the crashes and crises, thrills and spills of the 1997 season.