Memories of Monza
Walking gloomily homeward along the Thames on a wet and windy day last week, I nearly fell over a slightly elderly lady bent over a pot of paint before an open doorway. As I apologised profusely for my recklessness, a bolt of lightning struck the lamppost behind us followed by the crashing sound of a huge clap of thunder.
The lady and I instinctively leapt through the open door into the safety of the room within and then, now that we were both out of harm's way, fell about laughing as if we had known each for years. Our laughter was interrupted by the anxious cry of "Elisa, va tutto bene?" and the sudden appearance of a little old man.
"Forgive me," I said, "I didn't mean to intrude upon you like that, it's just this awful weather."
"Bene," the man said. "Is-a okay," .
It was clearly a restaurant virtually ready for a beautiful opening. A quick look round revealed a charming little place with a rustic feel to it: large, cured hams hung from the ceiling; there were floor to ceiling wine racks on the right and rear walls filled with appealing-looking bottles of red wine; and the mirror behind the small bar to the left reflected glistening bottles of Amaro. The couple were Elisa and Luigi Cavalieri from Bologna. They were actively engaged in the process of applying the finishing touches to "Luigiano's" in time for a grand opening at the weekend and leaving nothing to chance. I promised to visit Luigiano's for a meal as soon as it was open and made as if to leave but Luigi would have none of it.
"No, no, no. Is-a raining," said Luigi, "maybe you sit-a down-a and we 'ave a little Sangiovese.""Why, Luigi, that is one of my favourites. I don't mind if I do," I said, unashamedly leaping at an offer of something exquisite for nothing.
Elisa grabbed one of the dangling hams and sliced up some prosciutto crudo while Luigi opened a bottle and poured out some glasses. It didn't take long before we were friends. The Cavalieris had seen the writing on the wall for the Euro project ("Big-a da mess!") and sought the relative safety of a country where people still walked about with purses and wallets stuffed with notes depicting Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II.
They were a lovely couple, filled to the brim with the milk of human kindness - which flows generously throughout Emilia Romagna - and as yet unspoiled by London's harshness. Luigi, like all red-blooded Italian males, was a Ferrari fan and had been to every Italian Grand Prix since his father took him to Monza at the age of seven in 1952 and he held particularly treasured memories of Alberto Ascari winning that race in a Ferrari.
Luigi had many memories of Monza with which to regale me but the best were of the 1971 Grand Prix. Monza is still the fastest circuit there is on the calendar but in those days it was even faster. There were no chicanes: it was an almost oval, free-flowing circuit with cars slip-streaming each other repeatedly down the long straights. It was magnificent.
In '71, the fastest ever race on record, four cars took the chequered flag almost exactly at the same time - the only ever real photo finish in F1 history. Peter Gethin beat François Cevert, Ronnie Peterson and Mike Hailwood by the slimmest of margins - impossible for the naked eye to pick up. I have seen footage from the race dozens of times and yet I am still amazed by that finish. Cevert and Peterson were more accomplished drivers than Gethin and went on to have more success in succeeding years while Gethin faded into insignificance after winning a championship race without ever having led a Grand Prix.
Cevert was killed tragically in a nasty crash at Watkins Glen, New York (a circuit that makes one wistful) in 1973 - just at the point in his career when he showed sufficient promise to have everyone expect him to be world champion in 1974 (his team-mate, Sir Jackie Stewart, was so moved by the awfulness of it that he never raced in F1 again). Ronnie Peterson also had a promising career cut short by tragedy. After a colossal pile-up soon after the start of the race in Monza in 1978 Peterson was rescued from a burning car but did not survive the incident.
These reminiscences made Luigi rather emotional - perhaps it was the Sangiovese, perhaps it was because he was Italian - in a bittersweet way. Now he would say "those were real-a men-a!", now, tearfully, "these were just-a da young-a boys." Nevertheless, I enjoyed his stories immensely.
Luigi got a bit animated on the subject of Lewis Hamilton. He is frustrated by what he sees as brilliance being misapplied. "Hamilton should be three times champion by now," he said. I found it difficult to disagree. As we saw at the brilliant race at Spa a couple of weeks ago, Hamilton gets frustrated by things, loses his head and does silly things. He deftly performed an overtaking manoeuvre against Kobayashi but then turned in too sharply in the braking zone at the top of the hill at Les Combes, tagged Kobayashi's nose and was hurtling into the tyre wall before he could say "oh bugger!" I agreed with Luigi's assessment that Hamilton needs to calm down - "a 'ot-a 'ead-a is no good for driving!"
It is too late for any advice to make a difference to Hamilton's title chances in 2011. After his superlative performance at Spa, it would be difficult for anyone to say legitimately that Sebastian Vettel has not got this championship pretty much sewn up.
The curious thing about this season is that now the championship is all but out of the way, the racing is becoming a lot more interesting. The race at Spa was the best Belgian Grand Prix I have seen in quite a few years.
But if Spa was anything to go by, I can hardly wait for Monza. Other than Silverstone and Spa, this is the last traditional circuit we are allowed to enjoy in Europe these days - thanks to Bernie Ecclestone and his mates - so make the most of it. I certainly will,
Enjoy Monza!
Gitau
7 September 2011
The lady and I instinctively leapt through the open door into the safety of the room within and then, now that we were both out of harm's way, fell about laughing as if we had known each for years. Our laughter was interrupted by the anxious cry of "Elisa, va tutto bene?" and the sudden appearance of a little old man.
"Forgive me," I said, "I didn't mean to intrude upon you like that, it's just this awful weather."
"Bene," the man said. "Is-a okay," .
It was clearly a restaurant virtually ready for a beautiful opening. A quick look round revealed a charming little place with a rustic feel to it: large, cured hams hung from the ceiling; there were floor to ceiling wine racks on the right and rear walls filled with appealing-looking bottles of red wine; and the mirror behind the small bar to the left reflected glistening bottles of Amaro. The couple were Elisa and Luigi Cavalieri from Bologna. They were actively engaged in the process of applying the finishing touches to "Luigiano's" in time for a grand opening at the weekend and leaving nothing to chance. I promised to visit Luigiano's for a meal as soon as it was open and made as if to leave but Luigi would have none of it.
"No, no, no. Is-a raining," said Luigi, "maybe you sit-a down-a and we 'ave a little Sangiovese.""Why, Luigi, that is one of my favourites. I don't mind if I do," I said, unashamedly leaping at an offer of something exquisite for nothing.
Elisa grabbed one of the dangling hams and sliced up some prosciutto crudo while Luigi opened a bottle and poured out some glasses. It didn't take long before we were friends. The Cavalieris had seen the writing on the wall for the Euro project ("Big-a da mess!") and sought the relative safety of a country where people still walked about with purses and wallets stuffed with notes depicting Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II.
They were a lovely couple, filled to the brim with the milk of human kindness - which flows generously throughout Emilia Romagna - and as yet unspoiled by London's harshness. Luigi, like all red-blooded Italian males, was a Ferrari fan and had been to every Italian Grand Prix since his father took him to Monza at the age of seven in 1952 and he held particularly treasured memories of Alberto Ascari winning that race in a Ferrari.
Luigi had many memories of Monza with which to regale me but the best were of the 1971 Grand Prix. Monza is still the fastest circuit there is on the calendar but in those days it was even faster. There were no chicanes: it was an almost oval, free-flowing circuit with cars slip-streaming each other repeatedly down the long straights. It was magnificent.
In '71, the fastest ever race on record, four cars took the chequered flag almost exactly at the same time - the only ever real photo finish in F1 history. Peter Gethin beat François Cevert, Ronnie Peterson and Mike Hailwood by the slimmest of margins - impossible for the naked eye to pick up. I have seen footage from the race dozens of times and yet I am still amazed by that finish. Cevert and Peterson were more accomplished drivers than Gethin and went on to have more success in succeeding years while Gethin faded into insignificance after winning a championship race without ever having led a Grand Prix.
Cevert was killed tragically in a nasty crash at Watkins Glen, New York (a circuit that makes one wistful) in 1973 - just at the point in his career when he showed sufficient promise to have everyone expect him to be world champion in 1974 (his team-mate, Sir Jackie Stewart, was so moved by the awfulness of it that he never raced in F1 again). Ronnie Peterson also had a promising career cut short by tragedy. After a colossal pile-up soon after the start of the race in Monza in 1978 Peterson was rescued from a burning car but did not survive the incident.
These reminiscences made Luigi rather emotional - perhaps it was the Sangiovese, perhaps it was because he was Italian - in a bittersweet way. Now he would say "those were real-a men-a!", now, tearfully, "these were just-a da young-a boys." Nevertheless, I enjoyed his stories immensely.
Luigi got a bit animated on the subject of Lewis Hamilton. He is frustrated by what he sees as brilliance being misapplied. "Hamilton should be three times champion by now," he said. I found it difficult to disagree. As we saw at the brilliant race at Spa a couple of weeks ago, Hamilton gets frustrated by things, loses his head and does silly things. He deftly performed an overtaking manoeuvre against Kobayashi but then turned in too sharply in the braking zone at the top of the hill at Les Combes, tagged Kobayashi's nose and was hurtling into the tyre wall before he could say "oh bugger!" I agreed with Luigi's assessment that Hamilton needs to calm down - "a 'ot-a 'ead-a is no good for driving!"
It is too late for any advice to make a difference to Hamilton's title chances in 2011. After his superlative performance at Spa, it would be difficult for anyone to say legitimately that Sebastian Vettel has not got this championship pretty much sewn up.
The curious thing about this season is that now the championship is all but out of the way, the racing is becoming a lot more interesting. The race at Spa was the best Belgian Grand Prix I have seen in quite a few years.
But if Spa was anything to go by, I can hardly wait for Monza. Other than Silverstone and Spa, this is the last traditional circuit we are allowed to enjoy in Europe these days - thanks to Bernie Ecclestone and his mates - so make the most of it. I certainly will,
Enjoy Monza!
Gitau
7 September 2011
posted by Gitau at 7:44 pm
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