….with a big crash behind a smoke curtain, when a fire pillar light up the sky and the screaming crowd covered your own screams trapped in a bending magnesium cage. And you’ve gone, forgotten by many. Your only wish was to be just close to the big ones, and even if you never took wins or even scored points, you showed more guts than those who did. You went to the race in a car, that was for all that champs in front not good enough, old, often made with parts others refused. Obsolete, tired and on safety limit. But you were never concerned about it, or put much care on that, cos all you cared about was racing, racing against all odds. Your victory was to start the race and you didn’t care too much where will you end the race.

If ever existed a romantic Formula one driver, that’s you, fiercely pushing the accelerator pedal in all straights and on all curves, knowing that the biggest win you can aspire is ending the race, cos maybe tomorrow you’ll start another one. Saying that you’re victims is at least conceited, cos you did what made you happy. You’ve gone doing what you feel was the the scope of your life. Others were faster, but that was never important. You pushed the same way like the ones in front of you, with the difference that if they pushed to the limit, you get far over it.

The memory of you is fading into dark today, cos your stories are short and hard to tell. The memory of you grow dim, cos it’s far easier repeating the stories of the big ones till the end of times, even if I truly hope you are watching us all from the same cloud. Your passion was the same if not greater as one of the big ones. Many, especially those called or better self-called experts forgot that your crashes were same as one of the famous ones and your screams were as loud as the one of the big champs.

The memory of you is slowly vanishing, like the image in an old black and white photography. How many people know the names of Onofre Marimón, Chris Bristow, Alan Stacey, Carel Godin de Beaufort, Gerhard Mittner, Roger Williamson, Helmut Koinigg and Riccardo Paletti. Also the image of Ronald Ratzenberger it’s going dull and the memory of Jules Bianchi Will shortly follow. We all, those who love this sport, have to remember who were those heroes that gone away. And the question about anyone saying that their stories are marginal, too far in the past and not important.

We all adore big champions and quickly forget about all these little heroes, who gave all without any questions, just cos they love to race. This one is for you, for all of you, gone into eternity racing your cars, even if only a few of us remember your stories.

Simon Jazbec

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