Silverstone's final wild day: rose-tinted specs best for Mansell's '92 British GP win

F1

When Mansell scored his '92 home win in front of adoring fans, few would've guessed it would be his last – much has changed in F1 since, but Red 5's legend endures

Nigel Mansell, Grand Prix of Great Britain, Silverstone Circuit, 12 July 1992. (Photo by Paul-Henri Cahier/Getty Images)

Mansell's popularity continues – 30 years after his WC win, in a very different world

Paul-Henri Cahier/Getty Images

Thirty years ago today, Nigel Mansell trounced the field at the 1992 British Grand Prix to score one of his most emphatic wins in the fabulous Williams-Renault FW14B. He’d been a massive 1.919sec faster than team-mate Riccardo Patrese in Friday’s dry qualifying and a mere 2.741sec up on Ayrton Senna’s McLaren, lost the lead to wheelspin at the start, quickly passed Patrese and cantered home 39sec to the good – and that was with a precautionary pitstop for fresh tyres he didn’t need.

No-one who witnessed that day, including the man himself, could have guessed he’d never race in a home grand prix again. The first win at Brands Hatch’s European GP in 1985, vanquishing Nelson Piquet at the same track in 1986, most famously again at Silverstone in 1987, then domination in the first Williams FW14 in 1991… It had been one hell of a run – these were wild and heady times for the British GP. Then in ’92 the ‘Mansell Mania’ phenomenon hit its peak. Red Five was soaring to an uncontested world title – and inspired a new contingent of jingoistic fans to turn out and cheer him home.

Nigel Mansell, Grand Prix of Great Britain, Silverstone Circuit, 12 July 1992. Nigel Mansell fans waiving flags during the 1992 British Grand Prix. (Photo by Paul-Henri Cahier/Getty Images)

Fervent support for Mansell rarely spilled over into malicious behaviour

Paul-Henri Cahier/Getty Images

But a minority went overboard. This was the race where one idiot ran on to the track just after Mansell took the flag, and ahead of the rest of the field still racing for the line. The subsequent track invasion, for years a good-natured tradition at Silverstone, got out of hand, with another fan lucky to escape injury when he was hit by one of Mansell’s rear Goodyears. Dedicated long-term enthusiasts turned up their noses, while Motor Sport condemned such “loutish” behaviour, suggesting that Mansell had become “a figure of xenophobic worship on the back of the patriotic fervour that has been whipped up by the tabloids”. Football tribalism in motor racing? It just wasn’t cricket.

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Thirty years later, much has changed – a lot for the better. F1 is closer in competition than it was then and the racing is mostly more entertaining. The boorish power of the tabloids is much diminished, which is no bad thing – but it’s been replaced by the dark force that is social media, that on one hand has made F1’s stars more accessible and on the other has opened up a fast-running stream of toxic vitriol that was unthinkable in those relatively innocent days of 1992. The idiotic track invasion was alarming; the discriminatory abuse witnessed and reported among the ranks of spectator at the Red Bull Ring last weekend is something else again. What a world we live in right now. No wonder we sometimes choose the comfort of looking back to simpler times…

So was ‘Mansell Mania’ so outrageous? For the most part, not really. I was at Stowe Corner that year, not quite 18, and recall the joy and sheer fun of the unleashed patriotism among a happy crowd. I recall nothing sinister or unpleasant. Had the new influx of interest created by Mansell’s success diminished the British GP experience for the hard-core? Not from where I was standing. Eleven years earlier, as a little boy, I’d been lucky enough to witness John Watson’s landmark win and had joined the post-race track invasion at Club (with a bit of help jumping down from those high sleepers that passed for unforgiving barriers…). Tifosi-style fervour was (and still is) one of the best aspects of the British GP. Idiotic minorities never took the shine away for the happy majority – as they mustn’t now.

How Mansell himself was viewed then and today certainly remains consistent. A few weeks ago, ‘Mansell Mania’ was reborn at the Goodwood Festival of Speed, where he was mobbed just as he had been in the old days. It’s astonishing how popular he remains, particularly when he only rarely shows his face in public. Perhaps that’s why. Whatever the reason, he probably deserves more credit from us ‘media types’. But then again, that’s a complex relationship.

Nigel Mansell, 1992.

Mansell’s relationship with press was complicated at best

Grand Prix Photo

Back at Silverstone ’92, Mansell’s nose had been shoved out of joint by a selection of the regular motor sport writers who he judged had given too much credit for his success to his incredible Williams-Renault and not enough to the hard-trying bloke in the cockpit. Previously decent professional relationships had severely broken down, creating a schism between the public view of ‘Our Nige’ and the insider’s perspective. Lionised on one side, he was a figure of ridicule among some on the other. Then things deteriorated further as rumours gathered pace that Williams, Renault and Elf were about to pull Alain Prost back from his sabbatical for 1993, and amid tabloid fury – “Get Lost Prost”, roared The Sun – some commentators didn’t even try to hide their pleasure at how it undermined Mansell.

Consider this from our own Denis Jenkinson: “Mansell may be fast, and may win races, but no way is he the same class as Prost or Senna in driving artistry. In the world of music Simon Rattle may conduct an orchestra and produce a symphony, but Herbert von Karajan generates something entirely different; Kenny Ball may play trumpet, but Bunny Berrigan played jazz; Acker Bilk may play the clarinet, but Johnny Dodds played jazz music.

“I could go on with similar examples, but watch from the trackside and not through the eye of a telephoto lens and you will see Mansell driving very fast and winning races, but for artistry in high-speed driving you need to watch Senna or Prost, as he used to be and hopefully will be again next year.”

Crikey, Jenks… With such snobbery, no wonder Mansell fell out with so many in the press room – although his own pomposity, lack of grace and famously chippy attitude more than played its part. Let’s call it a score draw. A perfect storm.

What the Mansell example does indicate – rather uncomfortably for us! – is the established perspective created by the media isn’t always the legacy that lingers in sharpest focus. I’ve seen him as a childhood racing fan and in a professional capacity as an adult – and let’s just say I’d prefer to remember him from when I was a kid. But who cares what I think? Or what Jenks made of him, for that matter. Those fans on the banks and grandstands at Silverstone in 1992 had their own take on the man and the racing driver back then – and they chose to love him just as he was. Today, such fans now have a voice that cuts through individually and directly, and by and large that a sign of progress. It’s wondrous, in fact, especially if you cast yourself back 30 years. We could never have imagined.

Sadly, as too many witnessed and experienced in Austria at the weekend, ‘progress’ has a darker side too. Yes, much is better than it was three decades ago, but boy, how we’ve regressed in too many ways. Some voices just don’t deserve to be heard.

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