Over The Hill

Come four o'clock tomorrow afternoon, while in all probability others are clambering onto the Silverstone podium to bathe in champagne and bask in glory, Damon Hill will ease himself up from the narrow confines of his Jordan's cockpit and walk away from the sport that gave him its ultimate approval, that turned him from motorcycle courier to world champion, that allowed him to fill his father's shoes. The sport that defined him.

It's hard to imagine that he won't cast a wistful glance back and wonder if there isn't another way. But any regret is also likely to be tinged with relief. For while Formula One bestowed all its manifold gifts, like a jealous lover it has exacted a swift and heavy price.

Last September, Hill was a victorious jumping jack at Spa. Drowned in rain and champagne, he punched the air and cast his eyes to the heavens that had opened so viciously throughout the race, as if in thanks.

Eleven short months later, at the French Grand Prix two weeks ago, the skies split again and the rain poured down. For Hill, a driver who, by his own admission, enjoys racing in the wet, it should have been the ideal opportunity. Instead, he tiptoed around the circuit in qualifying like he was on a skating rink.

He failed to qualify, finishing outside the 107 per cent time margin. The conditions offered him a reprieve and he was allowed race anyway. It wasn't the blessing it should have been. Again he was sluggish and ill-at-ease. When a misfiring engine eventually forced him to retire midway through, he had the distinct look of a man who senses he has been handed some kind of salvation.

Hill had spoken about the fear factor before. Making his retirement announcement, he said the nuts factor that all drivers possess in the early stages of their careers was gone. In short, he could no longer fool himself into believing that the very real dangers of motor racing would leave him untouched. However, despite the loss of innocence, he would see out the remaining races of the season. With a £5 million contract to consider the calculated risk was worth it.

Two weeks ago, though, that absence of fun had mutated into a profound apprehension. Debating whether or not the French GP would be his last race he said that he had felt himself in danger on the circuit and that he had to consider his wife and four children. He had to consider whether Silverstone was a bridge too far. Hill's experience is not new but it is one that will judge him harshly. The blind machismo of motor sport insists that drivers can not decelerate gracefully into retirement. It is all or nothing. It has little time for losers.

"Everybody exits Formula One out the back door. You never exit out the front," the late designer Dr Harvey Postlethwaite once said. "Everyone exits out the back door because it's that sort of business."

The words are apt but were spoken about another former British world champion, James Hunt. Unlike Hill, Hunt's demise was exacerbated by a debilitating playboy lifestyle, but the late career similarities still remain.

Hunt had been, like Hill, a quick, able but never inspired racing driver. That was until 1976. Then driving a razor-sharp McLaren, the Englishman prowled around clutching the coat-tails of the rampant Niki Lauda. While Lauda was fully expected to romp home with the driver's title and present Ferrari with another trophy, Hunt was demonstrating that the public school prankster tag he had been labelled with during two years in the sixth form college atmosphere of the Hesketh team was a misnomer.

Then came Lauda's infamous accident. With Lauda out for a miraculously short six weeks, Hunt was able to turn tragedy into triumph. As Lauda understandably struggled in his comeback, Hunt battled through to win the title by just one point from the Austrian.

Still only 29, it should have been the performance to launch Hunt on a glittering road to grand prix glory. But the Lauda accident had already taken its toll and doubts had sprung up in the driver's mind. As the McLaren's competitiveness waned, giving Hunt just three victories the following year, the urge to continue evaporated with it.

But it wasn't until the following year that the ultimate catalyst occurred. At that season's Italian Grand Prix, Hunt had qualified his McLaren on the fifth row but a start-line accident saw him shunted forward forcing him to clip the right rear wheel of Ronnie Peterson's Lotus. Peterson's car pitched into the armco and bounced back into the middle of the track where it was smashed by either Vittorio Brambilla's Surtees or Clay Regazzoni's Shadow and burst into flames.

Hunt climbed from his own car and rushed into the flames to extract the stricken Swede but his heroics were in vain and Peterson later died in hospital. It was too much for Hunt. After the accident Hunt retreated to the relative calm of the Wolf motorhome, the team he had agreed to race for the following year.

Peter Warr, then in charge at Wolf, recounted the story some years later. "He was visibly upset," he recalled. "He started pouring out that he didn't want to continue, wanted to pack it in there and then, didn't want to drive a racing car again. It didn't really give us misgiving about the following season. There were plenty of stories of James being physically sick before a race so he was obviously very nervy.

"By the following year, though, Hunt was looking for an out. It quickly became apparent he was merely driving for the money and adopted a casual, indifferent approach to testing. The situation lasted until after the Monaco Grand Prix. Two weeks later and Hunt was out. "I wanted to have a really good final year," he admitted. "It wasn't a matter of thinking about the championship or anything. I wanted a good, competitive car with which to win some races. It's become clear to me that the car will never get there. If you haven't got an absolutely competitive car these days you can forget it. And, quite frankly, it's not worth the risk to life and limb to continue under those circumstances."

The circumstances surrounding Hill's impending departure aren't as dramatic or tragic, but the fact remains that Hill too appears to be suffering from the same sense of disquiet and the same sort of disapproval of technology. Since the beginning of the season, Hill has been one the harshest critics of the regulations which have resulted in narrower cars and grooved tyres. "They're not fun to drive," he moaned, adding that he believed that the sport should readopt the slick tyres of old and also reduce the amount of downforce to allow more slipstreaming. That lack of drive-ability was apparent at Magny Cours. After his dismal qualifying session Hill was firm in his belief that the conditions were unbearable. "I must say those were the worst conditions I have ever experienced in a qualifying session. It was extremely treacherous."

But despite his anxiety, Hill has decided to race the British Grand Prix. The decision seems to be based on a mixture of face saving on his part and economic expediency on the part of a Jordan team that has forced his hand because it can ill afford to have a clearly uncompetitive driver idling his way to a grand finale in Japan. There is also the prospect of a flag-waving lap of honour in front of Hill's home fans.

"I have not shown myself to the best (this year), but I'm looking for a way out and up," he said. "I'm not looking for a way to slip out of the back door anywhere."

Those words, uttered only recently, uncannily mirror Postlethwaite's verdict on Hunt, and despite Hill's best efforts to ensure a testimonial-like departure, bedecked in bunting and awash with jingoistic zeal, the back door may still turn out to be the only way.