How Bahrain showed F1's warrior mentality has never wavered

Most of the world saw the images of Romain Grosjean's horrendous crash last weekend in Bahrain spread across the front pages of newspapers and on their TV screens.

Most of the pitlane were shown, after a delay in which it was established that Grosjean was sitting safely in the back of the medical car, replay after replay of the accident from all angles, including from the helicopter above. The important image that finally emerged was that of Grosjean being able to extract himself from the blazing cockpit, aided by the FIA Doctor Ian Roberts, which was greeted by applause and relief from the watching team members in the pitlane.

So why did the TV director then continue to show the accident repeatedly and what effect was this having on the remaining drivers, who then had to psyche themselves into climbing back into their cars for the restart?

"Every driver is different in how he deals with the situation," said McLaren team principal Andreas Seidl. "Our two guys were sitting together on the pitwall and next to us actually watching the pictures in this break. That was their way of how to deal with it, and I just briefly spoke with them before they jump into the cars again, just make sure that they are good to go.

"I mentioned also to them both that we, as a team, really appreciate and respect each time they leave the garage that they take a certain risk. You never will have 100% safety and I think that's what we have seen today."

As a former Formula 1 race engineer, I have seen many bad and fatal accidents. Before the current multi-camera and screen coverages, we were always left guessing the outcome, hoping that it would eventually be good news and that we could breathe a sigh of relief and continue our work.

In Sky's Race to Perfection series, there were many previously unseen clips showing the reaction from team managers and drivers following bad accidents in F1; notably the qualifying crash that claimed the life of Tyrrell driver Francois Cevert at Watkins Glen in 1973. The TV coverage then was of everyone in the pits knowing what had happened, as many other drivers had passed the scene of the accident, but few knew how bad it was.

Lotus boss Colin Chapman was seen rushing back and forth demanding information, even though his drivers had returned unscathed. In an interesting parallel to Grosjean's accident, Cevert's car had parted and dismantled the Armco in a similar way.

Having been at the tragic race in Imola in 1994 while working for the Sauber team, I remember sitting waiting for some information on the outcome of Ayrton Senna's accident. There was hardly any footage until much later, but everyone had to concentrate and get on with the job in hand as the race was going to be restarted.

As Senna's team-mate at Williams, Damon Hill had a real dilemma on his hands, having been informed by team press officer Ann Bradshaw that the situation had been serious and subsequently asked by engineer John Russell to turn off his power steering.

"The state you get into to do battle in an F1 car is icy cold, chilling. We all do it, by blanking out all distractions and only thinking ahead. It's afterwards that emotions catch up" Damon Hill

He recalled in his 2016 autobiography Watching the Wheels: "Confusion reigned. This was something F1 had never faced before in the modern era.

"I looked around and saw Michael [Schumacher] sitting on the wall next to his car, kicking his heels as if this was just a normal day at the racetrack. Whether he understood or knew anything, I don't know.

"I was trying to deal with what I had just heard, and it gave me some strength to know that my father had been through all this in the past and had managed to cope. 'It's what we do in the Hill family; it's what being a racing driver is all about. You get on with your job. We're going to restart, so get prepared', I told myself.

"The state you get into to do battle in an F1 car is icy cold, chilling. We all do it, by blanking out all distractions and only thinking ahead. It's afterwards that emotions catch up."

The driver I was engineering on that day was Karl Wendlinger, who had lost his Austrian compatriot Roland Ratzenberger the previous day when the Simtek driver crashed fatally at Tosa. He put in a great performance to finish fourth, just three seconds off a podium finish.

But at the next race in Monaco, Karl had his own bad accident in practice when he clipped the kerb on the exit of the tunnel. This punctured his right rear tyre and he slammed sideways into the barrier at the chicane. Obviously, during the accident he was unconscious and couldn't respond to my radio calls, so we were in the dark as to his condition other than to see the footage on the TV screens.

His accident wouldn't have had such a serious outcome had the plastic barriers protecting the Armco been filled with water, as they should have, thus dissipating the energy of the impact more effectively. The fact that his head then subsequently hit the Armco led to the introduction of the driver's head protection inside the cockpit.

As Karl was in hospital in an induced coma with possible brain damage, the team decided to withdraw the other car, driven by Heinz-Harald Frentzen, out of respect. It was a dark time for Formula 1.

So, back to the present day. Faced with the images of Grosjean's accident whilst they waited in the pits, how were the drivers coping with their emotions? George Russell echoed Hill's feelings in 1994, saying all thoughts of the accident were put aside once he knew Grosjean had escaped unscathed from the crash - which he likened to "something from a movie".

"It's incredible how when you're so focused on one thing, you almost forget about these horrific incidents," he said. "It's probably only going to be probably tomorrow or the days after where, as a driver, you really reflect on that. It makes you realise and think 'that could have been any one of us'".

Others like Daniel Ricciardo had a different view, as he disappeared into the team's room behind the garages saying he was disgusted with F1 for "fucking with our emotions".

Sebastian Vettel echoed Ricciardo's comments and questioned the need for the constant replays, but still went ahead with taking the restart.

"I didn't look at the images too much, I went to my room and just waited to get ready again, which I guess was a good thing," he said. "I disagree with the fact you have to show the images over and over again. In the end, we are human beings racing, and not objects.

"I know people like the car being on fire, and crashes, and it's exciting, but actually it's not so exciting when you're in the car. So maybe it's something we can learn, that we don't need to repeat showing the images. I guess ultimately it was the best to get straight back in the car and not wait for a week and think too much."

His team-mate Charles Leclerc added: "It's always tricky to get back in the car after it, but I think the best thing we can do, we need our full concentration on-track, and I think that's what everyone did, to fully focus on the race and on the job we had to do."

The constant reminders broadcast into their garages meant the mental fortitude required to go out and take the restart was no less than for those drivers of past eras

I have to say that the Bahrain marshals and fire fighters responded exceptionally well in the harrowing circumstances, in yet another example of how F1 has made giant strides. It brought to mind one incident back in 1985 at a test in Paul Ricard when we had just sent Alain Prost out on full tanks. Suddenly, we saw a pall of black smoke further down the track and feared the worst, especially as we didn't have the pit to car radios of today.

The session was stopped, and we managed to get into our hire car and rush to the scene only to find, to our relief, Prost standing by his car. He had stopped to help Elio de Angelis who had left the circuit and was still trapped in his Brabham, upside down in some trees. The worst thing was that the car was on fire, but some of the marshals, wearing T-shirts and shorts, seemed to be more concerned about putting the fire out as it had spread to the trees. We all desperately tried to turn the car over and get poor Elio out, but the blaze was too fierce and we were only dressed in our team kit.

Nigel Mansell who had also stopped to help, came back to our garage to offer us words of support and sympathy after our efforts were in vain. In his 1995 autobiography, The People's Champion, Mansell recounts the time at Imola in 1989 when his then-Ferrari team-mate Gerhard Berger went off at the flat-out Tamburello, hitting the wall and bursting into flames in a manner similar to Grosjean's crash.

Like Hill, he was faced with a terrible dilemma, but decided to race on, against the advice of 1976 champion James Hunt.

"After the race was stopped, there was an incredibly tense and emotional atmosphere," Mansell wrote. "Everybody was afraid for Gerhard's life. Everyone in the team was very upset and some of them were actually crying.

"We had no idea at that point why the accident had happened. It was unlikely that he had made a mistake, something probably broke on the car. But what? And would it break on my car when the race was restarted?

"I do recall running into James Hunt who said that there was no way I should drive as it was too dangerous. I came away [from the motorhome] and made the decision that I would restart. I knew it was very risky, given that we didn't know why Gerhard had crashed, but from what I had heard, I felt that if I didn't give John Barnard [the team's chief designer] the vote of confidence, then the team would suffer in the long term."

As Hill and Mansell's accounts affirm, elite F1 drivers have their own way of dealing with accidents that befall others. Although in Bahrain the drivers had the reassurance of seeing Grosjean scramble free of the flames - in a way the unconscious Berger could not - the constant reminders broadcast into their garages meant the mental fortitude required to go out and take the restart was no less than for those drivers of past eras.

I do feel that in the 1970s and 80s, there was more of a family feel surrounding the drivers and teams. They, their wives and girlfriends, socialised and travelled together and looked out for each other. Nowadays, coronavirus apart, drivers tend to live in their own bubbles due to the direction in which TV rights, bonuses and success has driven the sport.

But still, the show must go on, and despite all the advances in safety with respect to car construction, the addition of the halo, driver's overalls, HANS devices and circuit improvements, serious accidents will sometimes happen. Ultimately and unfortunately, this is what certain members of the audience want to see. After all, what is a boxing match without a little blood?