Читать книгу Andy Priaulx: The Autobiography of the Three-time World Touring Car Champion - Andy Priaulx - Страница 7

‘As the applause went up all around me, I thought back to when I first went to England, alone and penniless, but hungry for success. It seemed like an age ago…’

SEVEN YEARS AND A FEW MONTHS LATER, I went to Heathrow and I boarded a plane to Dubai. For me, it was another flight to meet my destiny. So much had happened in my life, since that drive from home to Silverstone and I felt everything was finally coming together for me. It was my time. Mind you, not many other people felt or thought that way. I was 12 points behind Dirk Muller at the top of the European Touring Car Championship and, as far as I could tell, I was the only man in the world who knew I was on the brink of winning my first international motor racing championship with BMW Team GB. It was my secret. I had prepared for it. I was dreaming of it. I had locked my mind on to that ambition. I just knew it was going to be me who took that title.

In those intervening years, I had answered a lot of my own questions. I had proved to myself, and a lot of other people, that I was a fast and potentially excellent racing driver. I had grown up, too. I was married. I was a family man with two children. We were back in Guernsey, living on the island. Life had given me some encouraging signs and I had survived a few warning shots that reminded me of the fragility of it all. Jo, now my wife, had been very ill when she gave birth to our second child Danniella in November 2003. Little Dannii was five weeks premature when she arrived at The Princess Elizabeth Hospital in Guernsey. I was absent. I was away again, chasing my dream of the moment, on the other side of the world in Macau. Like her older brother Seb, she had a fight on her hands, but she came through. She was a fighter and a survivor: a true Priaulx…

All these thoughts drifted through my mind as I flew across Europe and down to the Persian Gulf. Blue skies, clear cloudless atmosphere and dry land masses passed below – and then the shimmering blue sea. It was not green, not like Guernsey. But it was a water-lapped coastline with sunshine – and, yes, there were a few boats! – and it was evocative of my home. I liked what I saw as I looked out of the window. On that plane, out to Dubai, I remember thinking to myself that I deserved to be champion – and whether I won it or not, I was going to prove to everybody that I was the best driver out there that weekend. This was going to be the conclusion of my extended rite de passage.

I had found out, on my journey to Dubai, that the Schnitzer team, the BMW outfit with a fantastic record of 30 years of great success in motor racing, had been there the previous week, driving in the race ‘taxi car’ (a race car tuned up to be used for giving passenger rides). As a driver in with a mathematical chance to win the championship, and as a BMW driver who was therefore part of ‘the family’, doing the taxi rides for the sponsors gave us vital experience of a circuit I had never seen before, albeit from the data and, perhaps just as important, the demands of a climate with high temperatures, colossal heat and heavy humidity.

This kind of thing – the taxi-rides for sponsors and guests – is something that goes on quite a lot, particularly at new events and circuits. In this case, it was a brand new circuit. Nobody had ever been there before. So, any laps you can get in are a great advantage. I knew it was going to be a great struggle to match BMW Team Germany – who are always the team to beat in the series – and prove that I was the best driver that season. Then I found out that these guys had been in Dubai for two days of testing! It was an advantage – one which I missed – which meant they had their own extra special bit of preparation. Such is the experience of the other teams.

It just goes to show how competitive the European Touring Car series actually is at the very top level. The name of that team, AC Schnitzer, had for years been synonymous with great motor racing and great successes with BMW. I think the combination of the excellent BMW automotive engineering with the motor sports development work of Herbert Schnitzer and his boys made the Schnitzer racing team one of the most successful and well-known touring car teams in the history of motor sports.

And, there we were – the considerably less-well-resourced Team GB outfit, run by Bart Mampaey’s Racing Bart Mampaey (RBM Team) based in Mechelen, Belgium – trying to maintain our David v Goliath scenario and lift the title. The RBM Team is run brilliantly by Bart and his, and their, record of triumphs against far more experienced and ‘bigger’ rivals has given him a reputation that he thoroughly deserves. In many respects, we were well-suited to one another because we were both unsung contenders who wanted to create success where it was not expected. Bart knew what he was doing, too. His father Julian ran the Racing Team in the 1970s and 1980s and he collected three victories, with BMW, in the famous Spa-Francorchamps 24-Hours race. Bart, of course, was there and learned everything he could about running a racing team before he went on to do it himself. So, he was a guy steeped in racing and he was also just as meticulous in his preparations as I am – no wonder we worked so well together!

In the context of the race in Dubai, there was no doubting that we faced a major if not massive challenge if we were to find the perfection we needed to beat the others. But I was not too worried. I had done my own extra special bit of preparation, too, and I was fitter, sharper and more ready for it than I had ever been.

When we rolled our car out at the circuit, I had to learn the track from scratch. So, I went about crawling on my hands and knees and I learned every bump, every little bit of camber and every little bit of kerb at that place. My friend Chris Cramer even taught me to climb trees and look at the track in a very different way, which provided another edge. Maybe the extra help that I thought had been given to the Schnitzer team worked to my advantage. I was motivated and I was so fit. It was just one extra reason to overcome the odds. I worked with my team on every detail we could think of to improve our performance and in the end we ended up with the best car we had ever rolled out up until that point. I felt confident, but I was racing into the unknown.

Before the races, I said to my engineer Sam Waes: ‘I don’t know about you Sam but this feels like a Hockenheim-type circuit to me…’ And I remember my car was really good at Hockenheim. Sam said to me: ‘Yeah, I have the same feeling.’ It was good that we were thinking on the same wavelength then. It gave us both a sense of extra confidence.

In the first free practice session, my car was just sensational. I looked at the others and I saw they were really struggling. The competitor in me said: ‘Yeah, you have come here and tried to outdo me, but we have come with the better car or, if not, at least the better package…’ We knew we were right on the pace and I felt I was right on the money.

Then, in qualifying, I put it on pole by more than a second! It was incredible. the competition were absolutely nowhere by comparison. They were struggling badly and I was the man in charge. They were gutted. The other drivers had produced nothing. And there was little old me, the guy from Guernsey with the almost unpronounceable name, on pole position. It was a triumph for the small team, too. We were all racing for BMW, whether it be for the GB Team, as in my case, or those representing Italy, Spain and Germany, but there was plenty of healthy and competitive rivalry. I think we all fed on that. I certainly did. That night Jo and I went back to my very luxurious hotel and had a nice meal. It was a great evening. I knew what was happening and I felt I was in control all the way.

The pressure must have eaten into and wrecked Dirk Muller’s brain because he had a terrible weekend whereas I drove two good races. Alfa were really, really fast in Dubai, so Gabriele Tarquini beat me twice, but I knew that I only needed to finish second or higher, to win the championship in race two. It was always going to be tight at the end. I expected it to be that way. However, I must admit that it worked out tighter than anyone could have foreseen.

I was leading the first race for a while but there was an Alfa in my mirrors, getting faster and faster and faster. It was Tarquini. I just managed to hold him off until the very end, when he slipped past me and I finished second. I think it was enough, at that point, to rule Alfa Romeo out of the running for the championship. Dirk had struggled and I had closed the gap, but he was still ahead of me.

We started race two with the reverse grid. That meant I was down in seventh place. I think Dirk finished the first race outside the top ten, so I was ahead of him on the grid again. When the race started, there was a big accident at the fourth corner – and I was involved in it. Jan Magnussen rolled, Alex Zanardi tried to avoid him and in doing so he clouted me. The impact damaged my right rear suspension and I thought that was it. Race over. Championship over. Dream over. Oh, my God. I just could not believe it. My heart sank.

It was so sudden. And there I was, crawling back to the pits, almost sideways, with the car wobbling all over the place. From that early high, I was now feeling despondent. But the next thing, the team came over the radio and said: ‘Andy. Andy. Do not come into the pit lane. The race is red-flagged. Do not come into the pit lane.’ More great strategy from Bart. It was red-flagged because Magnussen was on his head – so I had a chance again. The red flag meant the original race was stopped and aborted. A new race, with a new start, would follow.

So I pulled onto the grid and the team managed to fix my car. I remember someone took a few photographs of the scene. There was a picture of myself, and Dirk, sitting against the pit wall helpless while our mechanics buzzed around in the heat with parts and tank tape. He looked really nervous and I looked cool but under pressure.

When the race re-started, I made a brilliant start, cut through the field and managed to climb up to third place. Then, I pulled a great move up the inside of Jörg Muller and was up into second. Tarquini was ahead of me and behind me was James Thompson who was faster than me. I was under massive pressure. That was where my fitness really came in because on every single corner on every single lap I had to defend. I had to hold Thommo off for the whole race in temperatures of 70 degrees Celsius. It was absolutely, stunningly, extraordinarily and crazily baking hot inside my car. If I had given up my position I would have given up the championship and I had no intention of doing that. Dirk was stumbling around in sixth or seventh position but still fighting through the field. I knew I could not afford any slips. The pressure was huge, monstrous and incessant. Combined with the heat, it was a tortuous race for everyone.

I was behind Dirk in the points and I could not let it go. I would not let it go. I fought like a madman to defend from Thommo. Dirk was having all sorts of scraps behind me but I hung on. I finished second. We had to wait for Dirk to come through before we knew if I had won the championship. It seemed like an eternity.

Then, finally, as I cruised around in my oven of a car with my sweat-soaked race suit undone a little to find some cool air, I got the call. It came literally just after the finish line on my slow-down lap. I was waiting, waiting and waiting and then the call came: ‘Andy, you have done it…You are the champion!’

I could hardly believe it. I was the European Touring Car Champion. I had won my first international motor racing title. It was an amazing moment. I could hardly take it in.

Jo and I had survived and climbed our mountain. I thought of my dad, my mum, my sister and my granddad, how proud my family would feel. I thought of my kids and all the people who had believed in me and worked to help me.

The teams were out in the pit lane when I came in. They all lined up and clapped me in – an absolute honour. My mum and dad were there in tears. My dad had Parkinson’s and he was shaking a lot from the nerves of the whole thing but he was so happy for me. Jo was there too. I stood on the car and jumped off the roof. It was amazing. I had such a lump in my throat, it was unbelievable. As I stood there, it felt like a dream.

There were some tears. But this time, they were tears of joy. We had achieved it. We had won. I knew things would change for Jo and I. It was not the end; it was the start. No wonder we all wept again…At last, after the caravan, the hard times and our struggle to survive, we had arrived. That afternoon, in the heat of Dubai, standing on that podium with my family there to share our joy, I knew I had realised my dream. But I knew, too, that it was just the first step.

I took that championship, in the end, on number of races won. Dirk Muller and I finished level on 111 points for the season. It was that close, so close. My superior preparation, that of the team and my absolute determination to succeed had carried me through. That is the way I saw it. I knew I would win and that in my mind nobody else had a chance.

After that final race, Frank Diefenbacher, one of the Seat team drivers, drove his car back to parc ferme and fell out of it. He collapsed with heat exhaustion. He was taken away and put on a drip. The poor guy was so knackered he could hardly stand up, barely breathe and had no chance of speaking properly for a while. He was utterly crushed by those conditions.

Yet he had been just one place in front of Dirk at the finish of the race.

As I let things sink in, I realised that if he had flaked out a lap earlier, or before that, I would not have been champion. Dirk would have passed him and my dream would have been all over. But his courage in producing that fighting finish and crossing the line had secured my first international title. Those are the margins you work with all the time in motor racing.

Not only did I prove I was the quickest driver there that year, but I won the championship against all the odds – against the might and experience of BMW Schnitzer and N-Techology Alfa Romeo who were doing anything possible to win the championship. I do believe that Schnitzer are one of the best racing teams in the world. They are a top team in every way and I have a lot of respect for them. Their budget must have been double our budget. The Alfa Romeo team with their four cars were also very strong and resourced well, too. They had a great driver lineup: Gabriele Tarquini, Fabrizio Giovanardi, Augusto Farfus Jr, Thommo…all good drivers.

I thought it was pretty impressive to go into that European series and to win there so quickly – in only my second season. In my first year, they could not even pronounce my name. I remember when I went for an interview with a local television station in Guernsey and they told me they had gone to the first race, in Valencia, and asked a load of the other drivers about me. Every one of them said, ‘Well, we sort of know who he is, but we don’t know much about him’. My BMW colleague Jörg Muller was interviewed and he said, ‘Ja, of course, we know him, and now he is in BMW – but he hasn’t proved anything’.

I just shook my head and said to myself: ‘You know nothing.’ I have always said that my critics have helped me and being the underdog has helped me too. Those things have kept me very hungry. I could have been the racing driver who turns up with the big shades, the glamorous watch and the sun tan and just straps himself into an ultra-fast car and goes out and does the job. That would have been lovely, but it has never been like that for me.

My work ethic has always been to roll my sleeves up and graft. It has had to be. It carries over from my ordinary life and always has done. I have the habit of wanting to do it myself and wanting to see a job done well, even if I have to help. This still spills into my non-racing life too. Not long ago, we had builders doing some work on our house in Guernsey. I got so frustrated that I actually rolled up my sleeves and got stuck in there myself. I really enjoyed it. And I’m sure I did the job pretty well! I learned to work like that early in my life and it has never left me. My family always worked hard and I hope we always do.

There is no doubt that I have needed that kind of grit in my touring car career. Nobody really believed in me to start with and I had to overcome a lot of other people’s doubts. But when I won the 2004 European Championship everybody was clapping, all of them, up and down the pit lane. All the big teams were saying ‘Bloody hell! He’s actually won it. He has gone and done it…’ I remember them all coming out of their garages in Dubai and I was in tears. It was so emotional for me.

In 2003, I had showed my speed and people knew that I was good, but they still did not believe it. They thought Alfa would still be the number one, but my grit would not let me give up. I never give up. After 2004, everybody predicted that the competition would be back strongly – and they were right because 2005 was tougher, 2006 was even tougher still and 2007 was even tougher than that! But I won all three times, taking the title and keeping it. The problem, for me, has been that with each passing year, more and more people did not want me to win. Not only did they want to see a change, they wanted the power structure to work. If there was going to be someone dominating that series, turning it into a private empire like Michael Schumacher seemingly did in Formula One, they certainly did not want it to be me.

Unlike Formula One, Touring Cars is a contact sport and the politics are such that when things go in a certain kind of way you can end up being barged off the track. Yes, literally. There is also the penalty known as success ballast, reverse grids and rule changes all the time. The rules are not even necessarily the same for all the teams. At different times there has been one rule for one and something else for the others. I have always sensed that there was a huge amount of respect for me, but also that there has certainly been a big drive to stop me from winning the championship year on year. In a way, I guess it is understandable. But I have taken no notice. I have just gone out there and done my best to do my job. I have ground out the races and the results by squeezing everything I could from the package we had each year.

It was the same grit that has worked for me all through my career. It is the grit I saw in Nigel Mansell and that I have also seen in Lance Armstrong and a few other people. Maybe it is a bit of bloody-mindedness, too. And you do need talent. Do not think it can be done without talent. But talent alone is not enough. Everything you achieve in life needs hard work and there are few, if any, people who break that rule. I have always worked to achieve everything from polishing cars for my dad, selling on the forecourt, hustling to find sponsors and teams and then improving my own racing by looking, listening and learning at every opportunity. I have also worked tremendously hard at my fitness and I am sure that it was one of the decisive factors in 2004.

Before the Dubai decider that year, there was a little bit of time off after the Oschersleben meeting. I was 12 points behind, but I still had not given up. I had decided that I would do anything and everything to compete and stay in contention. After you have made a decision in your life to leave home and pursue your dream, like I did when I left Guernsey, it is not asking much to work your socks off to keep that dream alive.

I trained very hard. And I trained in a way that seemed logical to me, but caused quite a stir later on when a lot of other people found out about it. I put my race suit on, I put my helmet on and I got in the sauna at Kings Club, a gym and fitness place, in Guernsey, two minutes’ drive from my house. I was doing boxing in the sauna in full race gear. It was a public club, so plenty of people would have seen me there in my race overalls and helmet, but I did not give a damn what anybody thought. I trained on a bike. I did ‘boxercise’, sit-ups, press-ups, running…I did everything I could. I stayed in the sauna for the length of two races, an hour and a half, nearly every day. I just wanted to be quick in Dubai and I would do anything I could to help myself. People said I was crazy and maybe I was, but it worked.

I trained really hard and physically I was fit. I felt super-fit. But, more importantly than that, most importantly of all, I was mentally fit. My head was ready. My mind was clear and set. I did a lot of meditation. I knew that Dubai, in September, would be awful. I knew we were preparing for ambient air temperatures of 42 or 43 degrees Celsius. And I knew it was going to be humid. It would be even hotter in the cars and it would be desperately uncomfortable. Staying calm, clear-headed and sharp, capable of making decisions under extreme stress and pressure was going to be an important part of the weekend’s work.

When I got off the plane, I felt sick with the heat. It was so humid that everything steamed up – my sunglasses, the car – everything! I arrived pretty early in the week because the race was on a Friday. I wanted to be ready in every way. I was collected from the airport by a driver and taken in a nice big car to the Mina A’ Salam hotel which is absolutely gorgeous.

It smelt beautiful and I could not believe my luck. I had to take a boat to my hotel room. It was a little Abra and I was filled with a kind of excitement, a confident feeling of anticipation mixed with a few nerves. The whole place, the whole experience was just fantastic and I wanted to go out and complete the picture with a great job all weekend.

I woke up in the morning, got out of bed and, there I was, on a beach. I could see the sea. It felt a bit like Guernsey again and I definitely drew something from that. I also had a lovely 7-Series BMW given to me for the weekend and so, for me, the whole experience felt a bit special for the first time. I had gone from living in a caravan to being treated to nice hotels and luxury cars. And, I have to say, it was great!

Dirk may have been leading the championship and I am sure everyone expected him to win, but that takes no account of me. I am such a determined so-and-so. I never give in. And there, in that hotel room, with that car and that view, I felt so much energy. So I enjoyed myself – and I went out and won my first major international title.

We, BMW Team GB, were a one-car team. That in itself was a disadvantage when it came to a lot of the races because we could not do the slip-streaming, by using a team-mate for tow, like others did. But it was not the end of the world. I knew how strong we could be from the year before and I was not intimidated at all by the opposition. We had finished 2003 very strongly and all through 2004 I was convinced I could achieve my goals.

I started the season pretty competitively. I was up there, not dominant by any means because teams had been testing all through the winter – before I had even negotiated my contract – but still pretty sharp. Compared to the previous year when I was learning my way at that level really, I started winning much earlier.

Then, of course, the ‘success ballast’ came into play. The more successful you were, the more ballast you had to carry in the next race. It was a ploy by the series administration to try and keep the racing close and exciting and in its way it worked. But I never felt it was fair. It just meant that if you did your job and you were the fastest, once you proved it and started winning they tried to make sure you could not win any more!

That was not my only problem though. I remember feeling like I was a marked man that year. And it was only because I was fast and successful. People were already starting to get quite cold with me and I guess it came from the political pressures that were created by massive expectations generated by the big factory teams. Obviously, there was some tension among the teams and the atmosphere was getting a bit harder, a bit more serious; more tense, I suppose. In the first year, everyone was patting me on the back (I ended up as the only BMW driver after race one at the end of the first year in the final race at Monza). Then, after that, the affection seemed to dry up. I was no longer just a driver in the pack, but a threat to some people’s self-appointed intentions, in terms of racing success and titles.

There were no more pats on the back. I guess Lewis Hamilton had to go through a similar sort of experience after his brilliant rookie season in Formula One with McLaren Mercedes. When you have proved yourself, everyone else says: ‘Ok, now really prove yourself because we are the big boys and we bounce back…’ I do not know how personal it was, but in some ways I was still a bit naïve and less experienced than these guys. I understood the sport, but all the politics was a bit of a new thing for me. So, I did what I knew best – I got on with it, I put my head down and I worked and worked at everything.

I had some good wins that year. I won at Magny-Cours, Hockenheim, Brno, Donington and Oschersleben. The key moment during the season was reaching a point, about three-quarters of the way through, when I was in with a really serious chance of winning the championship. At some stages I was leading, at others I was behind, what with the extra weight and the reverse grids (the finishing order of the top eight drivers was reversed after the first race at each meeting for the second race).

I was always there in the mix. The year before, I had come from way behind and almost stolen the title right at the end, but this time I was one of the main contenders all season. I was loving it and I was pushing hard.

I had earned my position to be there, fighting for the championship, and there was still a really good chance that I could win it. Dirk did his job well but in Oschersleben it did not work out for him. I was quicker than him in qualifying, I made a great start in race one, got ahead of him and made sure I put two cars between us before going on to win. Then in race two, to put it bluntly and honestly, I was driven off the road!

I was crashed into and it seemed like the fairytale story was not going to happen – or was certainly not going to be allowed to happen. I know that, to many observers, it seemed that the other drivers had decided among themselves that the small guy was not going to win the championship.

I was an underdog who had put together a really good season, but I was not what they wanted to be declared as a champion. I felt I had earned my position, but a few drivers decided that it was not what they wanted (maybe for the credibility and prestige of the series) and a few teams had decided that it was not what they wanted either – and it was just sour grapes. It was not just in Oschersleben that this kind of thing happened either.

I was driven off the road in a few places point-blank that season. Maybe it was just one way of giving a newcomer a warm welcome to a series…However, Dirk gained eight points on me in that second Oschersleben race, leaving him with one hand on the championship, 12 points ahead going into Dubai.

It was all rather difficult for me to understand then. It was, I suppose, just a part-manifestation of the politics that go with a big manufacturer series like that when there is a lot at stake and there are a lot of big name drivers with their reputations on the line. It is not personal at all and I have never once lost my faith in the integrity or the honesty of any competitor, but I do think that it does show there is more to motor racing than often meets the eye.

For example, after I won the title at the end of the season in Dubai, Dr Mario Theissen gave me a present – something that I was delighted to receive. It was a chance to drive the Williams BMW Formula One car. It was something I had always wanted and it proved to me that for all the tension between the racing teams, the BMW people were very appreciative of my efforts and supportive of my career.

That was when I first met Sam Michael and the other Williams guys and they were really nice. I could tell that they had watched my season, but they knew it was just a test for a Touring Car driver, nothing serious. What they did not know is that I had been in the gym since I knew I was testing, working out every day. I was very determined about the test and immediately I showed my speed. So that one chance turned into lots more tests the following year and I am very proud of that. That was a great moment for me to choose to go the touring cars route and then still end up with a little job in Formula One. I achieved another of my own dreams that way, thanks to Dr Theissen and BMW.

But I digress; back to that glorious day in Dubai. After everyone had calmed down a little and the celebrations started to wane I went back to my hotel room and said to Jo: ‘Our life is going to change.’ I thought at the time that it would change and I would become a big name, a big personality that was well-respected in British sport.

But that just did not happen immediately. It was a bit of a surprise to me because my championship win was such a big story in motor racing and throughout most of Europe, if not the world. It showed me how conservative some sections of our media can be, but since then I have learned to understand it better. But it is still a bit of a shock. I was the first British European Champion since Tom Walkinshaw, 19 years earlier, so I had done something pretty special and I had also won in adversity. I had showed my determination. I remember reading all the e-mails afterwards, some really famous people were writing to me…Derek Warwick, Walkinshaw, all really nice people and well-known, too. I thought ‘Wow this is awesome – my life is going to change!’ But it did not, at least not right away.

We all flew back from Dubai together on the Saturday. My sister Fi flew back with us, and my brother in-law Rick and their son, Jacob, were there too. When we landed at home, we walked through the airport in Guernsey and I can remember hearing a load of noise. I honestly had no idea who it was or what it was about. I walked out and all of my friends and more of my family were waiting. My two kids greeted me – and all the Guernsey fraternity turned out to meet me at the airport, as I walked out.

They were clapping as I walked through and I nearly lost it, I nearly broke down in tears. It was amazing for them to turn out. I felt so much emotion. Channel TV were there, everything. I do not think the Bailiff turned out, but he did the following year when I won the world championship. All the local Sports Council people were there, but also old people, people I had never met before, and they had all got behind me and watched the races. It was an amazing feeling. It meant so much.

Amidst all the fanfare, I could not help but reflect on my journey from that Guernsey boy, who nobody thought could win anything, to a man with a little bit of a success, and then to European champion. It had not been easy. That was for sure. It had been bloody difficult. On several occasions, it had looked like it was never going to happen for me. As the applause went up all around me, I thought back to when I first went to England, alone and penniless, but hungry for success. It seemed like an age ago, but then, in that instant, it all seemed worth it in a way that I could never have imagined. After my Silverstone years, I really felt I had achieved something.