Steve Cooper: On the Limit

Old habits die hard. So when you see Michael Schumacher bobbing and weaving through the paddock crowds on a sunny Friday morning, it barely feels like he's been away. You catch sight of his impenetrable wraparound Oakley shades and crisp white shirt garishly embroidered with large orange and blue flowers. Very Michael.

Next, you glimpse him in the pits, chatting busily with his old mechanics and scrutinising the timing screens during free practice. Again, you can't help thinking: typical Schuey, beavering away at the Ferrari coalface.

Even Michael couldn't help slipping into his old ways, admitting that he'd inadvertently tingled with anticipation upon first walking into the Ferrari garage on Friday morning. His first post-retirement visit to a grand prix and he'd yet to get used to being a mere visitor. He had felt a decade-old reflex action kick in - it was a reminder of the past; an old habit. But that tingle quietly passed.

So, you confidently told yourself that this was the 'same' Michael you remembered. And when he arrived at the Ferrari motorhome for an impromptu press conference, now wearing a crisp white Ferrari team shirt and that inimitable Deutsche Vermogensberatung red cap, it felt like things couldn't be less different.

This was 2006 all over again.

But then he started speaking, and while it was almost imperceptible, you noticed that the voice was softer; weaker, even. This was the real Michael: a man composed but relaxed, happy to embrace the warmth and simplicity of his life without the need to keep his feelings protected and hidden.

Schuey's closest friends always talk of the man's tender side, of a dimension to his character that's rarely seen. But he possesses an innate ability to switch personae at the flick of a switch in order to deal with the relentless grind of Formula 1. And that's what was always on display during those paddock press conferences of old.

Friends talked of him winding his focus ever tighter over a race weekend. It was almost impossible to get close to him when he was like that, they say. But then they talk of the side we never see - the man at one with himself, playing with his kids and joking with his friends. The flipside.

And nowadays that means "waking up every morning and just making up my own schedule rather than having somebody do it for me; thinking about things like family" - a sensation he calls an "exciting and interesting experience".

But Schuey's internal switch can still be flipped. If you looked closely, you saw it triggered on Friday when he stayed at the track late into the evening in order to spur on the troops and offer guidance to the team as it wrestled to right the wrongs of a disappointing opening day of practice.

Don't expect to see Kimi do that too often.

"Sometimes I wish I could see these guys more often," says Michael. "Usually, on the Thursday before a race weekend, we would play soccer, have dinner and then hang out together after the race. Those moments have always been very pleasurable."

There's a slight pause - a few seconds to reflect on the memories that transformed that group of people into friends; a few seconds to privately weigh up all that's been lost and gained over these past six months of personal transformation; a few seconds to convey what those words mean for a man all too used to guarding his weaknesses lest they return to weaken him further.

"Those are the things I do miss," he says, allowing himself another inward sigh. "But there's only so much in life that you can have..."