Between the Lines

I have a confession to make, but keep it under your hat. Damon Hill is my motorsport hero.

Yup, I've said it. Aloud.

See, the thing is, it's not cool to have a hero like that in this office. All the 'purists', as I call them, have very predictable lists in their emotional locker rooms.

Ask Arron, he'll say "Gilles Villeneuve". Then Dodgins: "Ayrton Senna". Yawn. Roberts: "Senna". Whatever. Burt: "Nigel Mansell". OK. Bowdler: "Damon Hill!"

The reason I bring this up is because I watched a programme last night called Britain's Greatest Losers.

Fronted by Michael Portillo, it asked the question why, as a nation, we embrace the 'loser'. The heroes highlighted in this exercise of national self-deprecation included Eddie 'the Eagle' Edwards, Tim Henman, Captain Mannering, Basil Fawlty and er... Jade Goody.

Keep up.

Now, I'm not suggesting that Damon Hill fits into the 'loser glitterati' listed above. He won the ruddy 1996 world championship for goodness' sake and, he is our last F1 success story.

However, think about the Hill era for a while.

It was like fortnightly water torture. The reason? Well, deep down in our hearts, and regardless of our national loyalties, we knew Michael Schumacher was better than him.

In 1994, we struggled with the injustice of the result. Schumacher may have broken our hearts in that titanic struggle in Adelaide, but he had been stymied by three race bans that season. He should have walked it.

Then in 1995, Damon spent most of his time exacting revenge only to come off looking horrendously second best. In 1996, when Schumacher was driving, let's face it, a rubbish Ferrari, Hill should have had it wrapped up with little bother. Fat chance. In the first race he was outqualified and outraced by Jacques Villeneuve right up until the point when the Canadian put it on the grass.

And don't even get me started on Monza.

That last race at Suzuka had bad news written all over it. To take the title Hill had to score no more than a point to take the prize. Easy, you'd say, but I just envisaged more disappointment and heartache post-race.

Thankfully my lack of faith was completely unjustified and the miracle I prayed for materialised.

But why is it, after all that, that Damon still has an emotional draw?

It's because I identify with him.

Some days Hill stunned you moments of complete and utter incomprehensible brilliance: Adelaide 1994, Suzuka 1994, Hungary 1997 and Spa 1998. Other days... oh Lord... the whole of 1999, most of 1995. Monza 1996.

It's because you get both sides of this frustrating coin. I remember (once) when I scored the Mother Of All Goals for my school football team. Struggling to hold my place in the side, I was under pressure. Puberty hadn't yet kicked in and I was up against a rival sitting on the bench with big hands, a broken voice and smelly armpits.

But this was my day.

I received a square ball from right side of the field around the halfway line. I controlled it and made a diagonal move toward the penalty area. I passed one defender with a stunning dummy, sidestepped another, foiled his colleague with a Chris Waddlesque stepover and slotted the ball past the helpless 'keeper for a match-winning goal into the right-hand corner.

I was dropped the next game.

Still no matter. It was my moment.

And Hill had his moments. Fine, you can have your Sennas, (G) Villeneuves and Schumachers, but that's no good to me. These people belong in a planet called Genius and I simply don't relate to it.

Give me the planet Reasonably Good with Moments of Genius Peppered With Heartbreaking Human Frailty any day.

Besides, there are more of you out there and you know who you are.