A stone-cold Silverstone masterclass: Senna's greatest F1 performance?

Do you remember the single British GP win? Actually, you might well be too young. Hard to believe that day on July 10 1988 was nearly 36 years ago. Thinking back, I have snatches of images in my head, because yes, I was there, aged 13 – and sodden to the bone from sitting in a fold-up chair on a soggy grass and mud bank all bleedin’ day, on the entry to Stowe corner… God, it was miserable!

As was the way back then, we’d left home when it was still dark to be at the gate for the crack of dawn, to ensure a decent spot by the fence. Then we sat there, all morning and into the afternoon. For me, 1980s British GP build-ups were a beloved tradition akin to FA Cup Final Saturdays (although the latter tended to be warmer and more comfy given they were experienced from the sofa). The support races, demos, Red Arrows displays and accelerating sense of anticipation were as essential, and sometimes better, than the races themselves. But for ’88 it’s hard to recall much apart from the rain. Still, what could you do? There was no shelter, no choice. Just sit – and wait.

It was a shame because the anticipation had been for a full-throttle battle on a ‘proper’ circuit between new McLaren team-mates Senna and Prost. As usual, Denis Jenkinson captured the mood in Motor Sport. “With the two red-and-white cars at the front of the grid, we were going to see a good clean battle between the most successful driver of today and the fastest driver of today,” he said. In a season of Honda-powered domination, optimism remained high we’d be in for something special.

And we were. Just not in the way any of us had hoped. “While the crowd wallowed in mud and water and the supporting events and demonstrations did their best to keep the fun of the fair going, the whole scene was a pretty gloomy and soggy affair,” wrote Jenks.

Instead of a duel for the ages, we witnessed a stone-cold (mostly cold!) Senna masterclass. The win in Portugal 1985 and that perfect first lap at Donington ’93 tend to pop up first in the lists of his greatest performances, but Silverstone ’88 for me is right up there. He was simply on a different planet that day. At 13, I had only a grudging respect for the talent of a man who seemed arrogant, petulant and a little too ‘Maradona’ for my liking. But I had a different perspective by the end of that day. It was obvious we were witnessing a special performance. That sense cut through the gloom, just like the Dayglo-and-white of his McLaren (which was always so much brighter in the metal than it appeared on telly).

The race itself had its moments, but largely because of Nigel Mansell’s drive to second in the Judd V8-powered Williams – a rare ray of light for ‘Red Five’ in what was largely a wasted year now Senna and Prost had ‘his’ Honda engine. Frustrated by the team’s troublesome active ride that would, four years later, deliver him so much, Mansell had just signed for Ferrari for ’89 and now found inspiration in an FW12 back in passive mode. The rain, as usual was a leveller – for all but Senna.

The Ferraris had ramped up the optimism by locking out the front row. But from the start Senna split Gerhard Berger and Michele Alboreto, chasing the Austrian until lap 13 when he swept into the lead. Meanwhile, Prost just… disappeared. From fourth on the grid he was 11th by the end of lap one, and 15th by lap six. What on earth was going on?

The consensus was that Prost simply ‘gave up’. There’s added context here. The horror of Hockenheim 1982, when poor Didier Pironi’s F1 career came to an abrupt halt when he rear-ended Prost’s Renault in the spray during practice and endured terrible leg injuries, should always be kept in mind whenever it’s suggested that Alain was ‘spooked’ by heavy rain and a lack of visibility. Even Jenks showed a modicum of understanding for a driver he held in obvious respect. “The championship leader headed for the pits and openly gave up, making no complicated or pathetic excuses, for Prost is not like that. You cannot admire a driver for giving up in foul conditions, but you have to respect him.”

Only a car failure could stop Senna now – but not on this day as the rain turned on and off. “We now settled down in the intermittent rain to watch a real artist at work, Senna’s delicate touch on steering and throttle being a joy to see,” writes Jenks, in confirmation of my impressionable childhood memories. “He was completely unchallenged and in total command of the conditions, the race situation and strategy.”

I remember consciously trying to freeze-frame images in my mind of Senna swinging into Stowe. I was young, but even then I understood the privilege of witnessing one of the greats in a state of serene harmony with his car. For a while, the rain was forgotten.

That didn’t last. It swept back across the bleak old airfield as the British Touring Car Championship coda to the day kicked off. Traditions be damned, just this once. Against our usual pattern of ingrained behaviour, we headed back to the car just after the race started and couldn’t face sticking around to see yet another Andy Rouse win in his RS500. I must admit, for once I no longer cared. Still, soaked and beaten, Senna had made it worth it. Not coming down with pneumonia was just an added bonus.