Steve Cooper: On the Limit

Everywhere you looked last weekend you were offered a reminder of Fuji's past. With an uncanny symmetry, parallels were effortlessly drawn between Formula 1's first visits to the mighty Speedway in the mid-1970s and its return last weekend, after a 30-year absence.

Maybe it had something to do with the lovably unique way that Japan approaches its motor racing, maybe it was serendipity. Whatever, last weekend's Japanese Grand Prix seemed to intertwine romantic echoes of the past into a paddock that often remains immune to historical sentiment.

Contributing considerably to this feeling was the Speedway itself. Studying its layout on paper beforehand, you couldn't help concluding that this was simply another Tilke- drome; a once-great track cut to ribbons and emasculated for the sake of modern F1.

But walking the circuit on a darkening Thursday evening, you could clearly see that Hermann Tilke had reserved just the right amount of respect for Fuji's previous incarnation, carving an undulating, cambered ribbon of new asphalt into the Japanese hillside. It boded well for the remainder of the weekend.

The impression was completed on Sunday afternoon when shots of the cars screaming down the straight into the first corner, fanning huge plumes of spray behind them, called up the scratchy, colour-bleached footage from that deluged 1976 event. The parallels between past and present were clearly making themselves known.

Of course, even the 'old' Fuji had been forced to shed some of its original menace. And during that Thursday evening tour, we took a walk over to the turn one perimeter to peek into the valley at something even those '70s gladiators were forced to miss: Fuji's magnificent old banking - now just a strip of blackened concrete crumbling before a pine forest. It looked broodingly magnificent.

Back in the paddock, it was equally hard to escape the feeling that this place's past was communicating with the present. Veteran Austrian broadcaster Heinz Pruller, a close friend of both Jochen Rindt and Niki Lauda, shared memories of the '76 championship showdown with Super Aguri sporting director Daniele Audetto, the man who had been Lauda's team manager at that infamous race.

"I just had to put Daniele straight on a few matters," grinned Heinz, as a group of us huddled under an awning while the rain lashed down and the cold gnawed at our fingertips. Audetto smiled approvingly, looked to the heavens and reminded us that the weather was "even worse" back in '76.

It was that kind of weekend - one where the uniqueness of holding a grand prix halfway up a mountain seemed to bring about a sort of crazed camaraderie often missing elsewhere. Indeed, the slowly unravelling delays to and subsequent cancellation of Saturday's free practice session brought about a cheery Blitz spirit among the drivers.

Even an impromptu, boozy dinner with Spyker chief technical officer Mike Gascoyne only served to unite the different eras, Mike's forthright views reminding you of a time when little in F1 was hidden behind a veneer of spin and the relationship between teams and media was tight and mutually respectful.

As the mood grew more spirited and the volume grew louder, Mike launched into an impromptu karaoke rendition of the Sex Pistols' Anarchy in the UK. It was a typically two-fingered choice for the Rottweiler.

"It's the only song he ever sings," admitted his partner Sylvie. You don't need to be told the vintage of this particular song. Released as a single in the winter of '76 and included on the Pistols' notorious first album in late '77, you couldn't have asked for a better song to conclude a historic Fuji weekend...