Life at the Limit by Sid Watkins

Author:Sid Watkins [Watkins, Sid]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Biography, Motor Sports, F1
ISBN: 9781447241010
Google: pVfinn_yZf8C
Goodreads: 18912550
Publisher: Pan
Published: 1996-06-21T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

GRAND PRIX DRIVERS OF THE EIGHTIES

Nelson Piquet

It was rumoured that when Bernie put Nelson Piquet in the third Brabham car in 1978 in Montreal Nelson protested, ‘But I don’t know the circuit!’ To which Bernie allegedly replied, ‘When you leave the pit exit the first bend is left, so turn left when you get there.’

Nelson is one of those mischievous people whom everybody likes. The fact he was World Champion three times (1981, 1983, 1987) says enough about his driving and tactical ability. He had quite a lot of accidents during his fourteen years in Formula One, though the incidence decreased as he matured. His approach was always direct; when I hauled him out of an accident in practice in Brazil he greeted my arrival by saying, ‘How the fuck did you get here so quick?’

Fortunately he never injured himself seriously in Formula One, but after a big accident at the Tamburello at Imola in 1987 during a Friday afternoon practice he was concussed and went off to the Hospital Bellario neurosurgical unit by helicopter. As I walked up the pit lane afterwards Murray Walker, with his microphone in hand, asked me how he was. I said, ‘He’s all right, he knows who he is, where he is, and who I am.’ Murray replied, ‘I see; then confusion is a sign of having a head injury.’ I couldn’t resist it – I said, ‘Murray, you of all people ought to know better than that.’ I hoped Murray would soon forgive me for that unkind remark, and was relieved later to hear him delivering a marvellously funny after-dinner speech where he dwelt on the frequent confusions in his commentaries as his stock-in-trade.

I went to see Nelson in the hospital after the practice session ended and advised him to withdraw for the weekend. I was surprised on the Saturday morning when Bernie got hold of me and said, ‘Nelson’s turned up and wants to drive.’ The naughty boy had discharged himself from the neurosurgical unit against advice, and had arrived at the circuit. He came to see me and I told him, ‘Nelson, you can’t drive, you’ve got brain damage.’

He shot back immediately, ‘How do you know?’

I pointed out that he only had one shoe on and he’d clearly forgotten to put on the other one.

‘I didn’t forget,’ he said. ‘I can’t get that shoe on, my foot is too swollen and painful.’

This gave me the opportunity. ‘Brain damage, foot damage – I don’t care, you’re not driving!’

Nelson was upset with me and so were many other people, but the local medical team and their neurosurgeon Dr Servadei supported me and common sense prevailed. Some of the Italian newspapers said that as a Brit I’d deliberately kept him out so that Mansell could get a one-race advantage over his team mate.

I have only seen Nelson once since he retired from Formula One in 1991 and after he had his huge accident at Indy in 1992. I ran into him in the

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