Victory at Le Mans never comes easy

Le Mans is a serious motor race, set against the backdrop of a party attended by 250,000 people, writes ALISTAIR WEAVER, but that shouldn't diminish the bravery of the drivers involved

‘THIS CIRCUIT will always have a special history because so many drivers have given their lives here,” said five-time Le Mans winner Emanuele Pirro on the eve of the 2011 race. Some 24 hours later, his words would take on a haunting quality as two of his Audi colleagues endured horrific crashes that might have proved fatal.

The race was less than an hour old when Audi’s star driver, Allan McNish, tried to lap the Ferrari of Anthony Beltoise through a fourth gear right-hander. The two touched and McNish’s R18 span across the gravel trap, hit the crash barrier and flipped.

For two awful minutes we stared blankly at their monitors, struggling to spot a sign of life. Then the car was righted and the diminutive Scot scrambled out unharmed. Eight hours later, we’d watch in horror again as the German Mike Rockenfeller made contact with another Ferrari.

At almost 320km/h his car turned sharp left and smashed into the barrier, the carbon-fibre bodywork exploding on impact. By the time it stopped, there would be nothing left of the car save for the carbon-fibre safety cell in which the driver sat.

Almost unbelievably, Rockenfeller clambered out unaided. Both drivers were taken to hospital but escaped with nothing more than bruising.

“Allan was being grumpy so I knew he was okay,” said his wife, half-joking. By lunchtime on Sunday, the genial Scot was back in the paddock and happy to be interviewed. “It’s part of racing and part of Le Mans,” he told me.

“When I lost control I just pressed the brake pedal and held on to the steering wheel as hard as I could and waited for it to stop.” The two-time Le Mans winner has been racing for three decades and admitted that, even a few years ago, he might not have survived. “I’m going to give a big hug to the guy who constructed the chassis.” We had witnessed again the harsh realities of an event Pirro described as “the Woodstock of motorsport.”

Le Mans is a serious motor race set against the backdrop of a party attended by 250,000 people. While teams of superfit drivers race to complete the equivalent of a Grand Prix season in a single day, motorsport fans indulge in a drinkathon. Come midnight it is not unusual to find race fans lying prostrate just metres from a track populated by screaming racing cars. Anyone doubting the benefits of alcohol as a sleep aid has never been to Le Mans.

Those who managed to resist the evil liquor were treated to an epic struggle between Peugeot and Audi at the front of the field. Both manufacturers boast annual budgets greater than at least half the teams in Formula One and the scale of their operation is extraordinary.

Unimpressed by the restrictions of the Le Mans pit garage, Audi built a giant superstructure in the paddock to house the hundred or so engineers dedicated to running the three-car team. The ‘prototype’ cars they produced are as sophisticated as anything found in F1.

The Audi R18 and Peugeot 908 both weigh 900kg, boast turbocharged diesel engines and come dressed in an exquisitely crafted carbon-fibre suit. The two cars differ in their approach – the Audi has a 3.7-litre V6 turbo and the Peugeot a 3.7-litre V8 twin-turbo – but not their performance. In qualifying, the top six cars were separated by just half a second over a 13.6 km lap. This was a testament not only to precision engineering but also to the calibre of the drivers, most of whom hailed from the world of Formula One.

Audi and Peugeot’s hegemony at the front of the field was supposed to be challenged by Aston Martin. Except that it didn’t work out that way. The team was over 20 seconds off the pace in qualifying and both cars retired with mechanical failure within the first hour.

“Audi’s catering budget at this year’s race is larger than our entire race budget for three years,” said an Aston team member, but even that wasn’t enough to excuse a humiliating performance. After Rockenfeller’s crash in the early hours, the race became a tortoise and hare struggle between the remaining Audi and the three Peugeot’s.

The latter were using less fuel and could run longer between pit stops, but the Audi was proving the faster car as they sped on through the darkness. Sitting on the aged, fairground Ferris Wheel in the dead of night while the cars race a hundred feet below is one of the most iconic experiences in sport.

From the days of the Jaguar D-type through the Ford GT40s, Steve McQueen and that movie, Le Mans has developed a unique aura. “It’s hard to take in the scale of the place,” says Dennis Irwin, the former Manchester United and Ireland footballer who was attending for the first time. “The atmosphere’s incredible, but this race is so dangerous.”

At 3am, I stood with the team as the Audi mechanics refuelled their remaining car. The mix of nervous tension and physical exhaustion was palpable, but as night turned into day, the sole Audi continued to lead.

At a little after 11am, Andre Lotterer took over the car for a driving stint that would see him finish the race. For almost four hours, the German withstood the pressure of the Peugeots who closed to within ten seconds of the lead.

As the race clock ticked past 3pm, he claimed his first and Audi’s tenth Le Mans victory, with the Peugeot completing the top four. The rest of the field was in a different race but the plethora of Ferraris, Porsches and Corvettes that make up the fifty-six car grid brought their own sprinkling of glamour.

Today’s Le Mans is as much a social occasion as a motor race, but no-one who witnessed the accidents of McNish or Rockenfeller should doubt the skill, commitment and sheer bravery of those involved. Victory is nearly always at a price.