Michael Scott | August 31, 2017
Cycle NewsIn the Paddock
COLUMN
The Silence Of The Fans
I’m in two minds about this. On the one hand, although we are in an era dripping with rather sick-making public sentimentality, showing respect for the dead is surely in no way negative.
On the other, we are all mortal. When a death doesn’t really affect us personally, even remotely, then how does paying it any extraneous attention dignify either us or the dear departed?
These musings came to the fore thanks to the hysteria in some (mainly British) quarters as we mark 20 years since the untimely death of Princess Diana, smashed along with her boyfriend by a drunk driver in a Paris underpass. An event that many mark as the trigger for this new age of overblown public outpourings.
I remember it vividly, for rather different reasons.
It occurred on the eve of the Czech Republic GP, towards the end of a generally memorable season of GP racing, round 12 of 15.
I recall driving into the wooded Brno circuit to park beside the paddock, and hearing the news (back in pre-Twitter days) from a fellow arrival.
I lived in Britain, but was neither royalist nor republican, and while of course the loss of any young mother in a road accident is unnecessary and tragic for her family, I had no further opinion about the late princess. Neutral. Apolitical. Or, if you like, apathetic.
I was much more absorbed in the racing—wondering whether Mick Doohan, having tied up his fourth title two weeks before in Britain—could be bothered to win the race (he could, claiming his 11th win in a year when he set a record of 12, since broken only by Marquez). And whether Valentino Rossi might secure his first title in the 125 class. (He did.)
Another historical reference: Max Biaggi won the 250 race, on the way to his own third successive 250 crown.
But I sensed the chance to score some points.
Three races earlier, at the Nürburgring, Dorna had initiated an unprecedented ceremony—one minute’s silence on the grid. This was not a motorcycle racing matter, but to mark the cold-blooded murder by Basque separatist group ETA of a kidnapped politician, one Miguel Angel Blanco. Held hostage, he was shot in the back of the head when the Spanish government refused demands to transfer ETA prisoners to local prisons.
Nasty. A national scandal, and as it transpired a politically pivotal moment. But an entirely Spanish affair. It was not only me who questioned the relevance of this tribute at the German GP.
So now I stormed into the press office, and asked the Dorna-appointed boss, a redoubtable Italian lady, whether we could have a minute’s silence for Diana. She returned smiling ingratiatingly, even sympathetically, and said: “Carmelo Ezpeleta has said yes, you can have a minute’s silence. In the press room.”
No. Not good enough. I wanted the whole track involved. As it had been in Germany. “Renata,” I fumed. “This death has no effect whatsoever on me personally. But if we can have a minute’s silence at a grand prix for a Spanish politician, we can have an effing minute’s silence for a British princess.”
“Mike,” she said. “I never know when you are joking or not.”
I replied straight-faced: “It doesn’t matter if I am joking or not.”
Thus, at my behest, a crowd of 80,000-plus on a distant Czech hillside marked Diana’s passing in eerie silence. Broken only by the snorts of me trying to suppress laughter.
So perhaps I am a bit to blame, for a practice that has become so commonplace in GP racing that hardly a weekend passes without another minute of silence—for a terrorist attack somewhere, or maybe an earthquake, or famine, or train smash, or something ghastly somewhere else. Sometimes they are double-deckers, commemorating more than one event. It’s a wonder, among all these silences, anyone gets a chance to talk to anyone else at all.
Sometimes of course they are entirely apposite. It is right that racing should mourn one of its own. This year we have stood in silence for Angel Nieto and (for 69 sad seconds) Nicky Hayden. Although not for John Surtees, nor last year for Geoff Duke, which seems a bit unfair, but then neither of them had anything to do with Dorna.
Nor could anyone forget the minute of engine-revving noise for Marco Simoncelli, a couple of years ago.
But these sincerely respectful moments are undermined by the fact that they are now so commonplace. Sentiment is cheapened by repetition.
I suppose we shall have to brace ourselves for more minutes of silence over the rest of the GP year.
And I suppose we should also be thankful when they are irrelevant. It’s better that way. CN
