...what has turned into
a classic Formula 1 season.
With the weather conditions
so uncertain,
the drivers prepare for...
...the track is still dangerously wet,
but following a drivers' meeting,
- a decision has finally been taken.
- Three minutes to go.
Everybody off the grid now.
Twenty-five drivers
start every season in Formula 1,
and each year two of us die.
What kind of person
does a job like this?
Not normal men, for sure.
Rebels, lunatics, dreamers.
People who are desperate to make a mark
and are prepared to die trying.
My name is Niki Lauda,
and racing people
know me for two things.
The first is my rivalry with him.
Photographers,
please clear the grid.
What about Hunt? Has he changed?
No, he's going on wets.
I don't know
why it became such a big thing.
We were just drivers
busting each other's balls.
To me this is perfectly normal,
but other people saw it differently,
that whatever it was between us
went deeper.
The other thing I'm remembered for
is what happened on 1st August, 1976,
when I was chasing him
like an asshole.
Trauma trolley, please.
Hello, I think the racetrack
telephoned ahead that I was coming.
Hunt. James Hunt.
What's the matter? No one ever seen
a spot of blood before?
- Are you all right?
- Absolutely fine.
We all thought
you'd been in an accident.
I have.
If you call a friendly disagreement
with another driver an accident.
What did you disagree about?
It's none of your business.
Sorry.
His wife.
That's going to need a couple
of stitches. It's a nasty cut.
It was a nasty blow.
Done with a bloody crowbar.
- Why? What did you do?
- Nothing.
Only what she asked me to do.
Which was...
I'd be happy to show you, if you like.
Oh! Sorry.
I have a theory
why women like racing drivers.
It's not because
they respect what we do,
driving round and round in circles.
Mostly they think that's pathetic,
and they're probably right.
It's our closeness to death.
You see, the closer you are to death,
the more alive you feel.
The more alive you are.
And they can see that in you.
They feel that in you.
My name is James Hunt.
My father is a stockbroker,
my sister is a barrister
and my brother is an accountant.
And I...
Well, I do this.
It's a wonderful way to live.
It's the only way to drive.
As if each day is your last.
I've never been to a Grand Prix before.
Oh, you still haven't.
- This is Formula 3.
- What's that?
It's a lower division,
where idiots like me mess about
in the hope of being talent-spotted
to race in Formula 1.
- You look disappointed.
- No.
Ah. You only slept with me
because you thought I was famous.
That's not true.
Don't worry. I will be one day.
Morning, everyone.
- This is Nursie.
- Gemma.
Nursie, this is Bubbles Horsley,
team manager.
How do you do?
- Bubbles?
- Yeah.
- Doc Postlethwaite, our designer.
- How do you do?
And Alexander, Lord Hesketh,
the team's owner.
How do you do?
Fine, thanks.
Well done, Superstar.
- That's the car?
- Yep, that's her.
Lotus 59.
1,000cc Cosworth MAE engine.
She's no beauty,
but goes like the clappers.
Nothing to be worried about.
Does it before every race.
Good sign, actually. Means he's stoked.
AH Formula 3 cars
to the assembly area now, please.
...drivers please bring them
to the scrutineering bay now.
All right, Superstar?
Never better, patron.
- Have a gargle with this.
- Thank you.
Quick toke of this.
At Crystal Palace today,
James Hunt's on pole,
with Austrian newcomer
Niki Lauda alongside him
and Dave Walker completing Row 1.
Row 2 is Mike Beuttler and Dave Morgan,
- with Tony Trimmer and Gerry Birrell.
- Who's that?
He's new.
- Some German.
- Austrian.
He's been here since 5:00 am,
walking the track.
You might actually
have to concentrate today, James.
You'll need these.
Okay, start her up.
Ah! What music!
They could never have imagined it,
those pioneers
who invented the automobile,
that it would possess us like this,
in our imaginations, in our dreams.
Nursie, men love women,
but even more than that,
men love cars.
- Come on, James!
- James! Come on, James!
Go, James!
Hunt's still in the lead,
but Niki Lauda is right on his tail.
Hunt and Lauda are
proving to be in a class of their own.
They're leaving the pack far behind.
Herr Red Devil's on his tail.
Lauda takes a look down the inside...
...and he's sold him a dummy!
Lauda is through! He's in the lead!
Hunt will be determined
to make up for that mistake.
Hunt's in Lauda's slipstream.
Lauda's not leaving any gap.
The Lotus goes for the inside.
It's an aggressive move from Hunt.
Oh! There's contact!
The leaders have spun out!
Lauda's facing the wrong way!
The back marker's gone through.
You can see why Hunt's fellow drivers
call him "Hunt the Shunt".
Asshole!
- Go on, James!
- The Kraut's out of it.
Lauda is clearly furious.
There's every reason
to expect sharp words in the pits.
It's gonna be victory for Hunt.
It's gonna be an ignominious defeat
for Niki Lauda.
So James Hunt scores his
third major Formula 3 win of the season
here at Crystal Palace,
after a desperate battle
with Niki Lauda.
Lauda was unable to restart
after Hunt's aggressive move
caused them both to spin out
in the last lap of the race.
Hard luck.
Better luck next time.
Hey, asshole.
That was my line. I had that corner.
Do you mean the one that you spun out of
and finished facing the other way?
I think that corner had you.
That move was total suicide.
What if I hadn't braked?
- We'd have crashed.
- But we didn't, did we?
Thanks to your impeccable
survival instincts.
Fuck you. What's your name?
James Simon Wallis Hunt.
Remember it, my little Jerry friend.
Jawohl. Remember ze name.
And it's very simple. Hunt.
It rhymes with...
...cunt.
A word that happens
to describe you perfectly!
Who was that?
I've no idea.
He looks like a rat, doesn't he?
In my home town, Vienna,
my family is famous
for one thing - business.
My grandfather was a businessman,
my father, too.
So when they heard I wanted
to race cars for a living,
they had a few things to say.
Gut.
So if my family
wasn't going to help me,
I decided to risk everything
and take out a loan myself.
I found a Formula 1 team
with an okay car
and an owner who had run out of money
and was willing to accept my terms.
And so,
ladies and gentlemen,
I'm delighted to say
that the winner of the Guild of Motoring
Writers Award Driver of the Year...
is James Hunt.
Superb news!
- Well done, James.
- Superstar!
Fantastic!
- Well done. Congratulations.
- Thank you so much.
Yes!
Erm...
You know, my parents
always wanted me to be a doctor...
...or a stockbroker or something.
They gave me the first-class education,
but, well, that all went terribly wrong
and I ended up with you lot.
Thank you. I need it more than you do.
I mean, I have a hot head,
an inability to tolerate discipline.
- Yes!
- Very true.
I fall out with people left and right.
The only creatures I've ever really
loved or have treated honourably
are budgerigars.
So in any normal area of life I'd be...
or I am, a total liability.
The only thing I've got going for me
is I'm quick in a car.
So, thank you for this
and for acknowledging that.
I'm going to give it to my father
and tell him to put it
on the mantelpiece
and imagine it's a first-class degree
in medicine.
Well done, Superstar.
Another season like that
and I'll move you up to the big time.
Come on, you don't think I'm ready now?
You are. I'm not.
I've got to find you a car first.
Well, go on, then. Chop-chop.
Don't wait too long. You don't want him
to do what Lauda just did.
- Why? What did he do?
- Got himself a drive with BRM.
Well, how the hell did he do that?
He's a nobody.
He's never won a bloody thing.
Apparently, took out a loan
and bought his way in
with two million Austrian schillings.
Jesus.
Niki Lauda.
Here for pre-season testing. BRM?
Sign the release form.
I'll let them know you're here.
- Mr Stanley.
- Good morning.
- Good morning.
- Good morning. Clay!
Let me introduce you
to our number-one driver,
Clay Regazzoni.
- How are you?
- Good.
- Pleasure.
- And these are your mechanics.
They're reporting exclusively to you,
as per contract.
Pleasure. Do you wanna see the car?
Sure.
Hello.
There she is. P160.
- Same as Regazzoni's?
- Identical in every detail.
How much does she weigh?
- 600 kilos.
- But that's crazy.
- Why so heavy?
- It's a V12 engine.
That lump weighs 190K on its own.
Okay.
What horsepower are you getting? 490?
- No, no, 450.
- Well, it's not enough.
It needs to be 500,
and the engine
needs to be 20 kilo lighter.
We already tried.
- Tried what?
- Everything.
We replaced the entire exhaust system.
- Barely made a difference.
- Are you using magnesium parts?
Now the engine block.
Any mounting or fixing plates,
strip it out also.
When you've done that,
we have to look at the aerodynamics,
front and rear wing.
Okay, thank you. Good night.
What was Regazzoni's time?
Okay, now put him in my car,
and he'll go round two seconds faster.
- Well, that's impossible.
- No chance.
We've been working on it all night.
Put Regazzoni in the car.
See what happens.
I don't understand.
Why am I supposed to do this?
I don't know, Clay.
He just wants you to take it for a spin.
Gloves, please.
'fanculo.
- I would say we push it a bit...
- All right.
What did you do to the car?
That's information I will share with you
under certain conditions only.
Go on.
A guaranteed place in the team,
and a paid contract on equal terms
with Regazzoni for two years.
Are you crazy?
Clay's a senior figure in Formula 1.
You're just a rookie.
Well, the only reason we took you on
is because you're paying us.
Well, as of now, if you want me to stay,
we rip up the contract.
- I don't pay you a cent.
- That's outrageous!
Was he quicker in my car?
He was, wasn't he?
Did he go two seconds faster?
2.3.
So, have a think,
work out your priorities
and get back to me.
Hey, Niki.
I know what you're going to say,
that it's none of my business.
What?
If it's the track manager
you're taking on your date tonight...
It's none of your business.
Okay, but if you want my advice,
I'd let this one go.
I'm not questioning your taste.
She is a great girl, but...
Agnes's last boyfriend
was a British Formula 2 driver
who has a reputation for two things.
For being a little crazy on the track,
and for going all night and all day
and all night again in bed.
He's a good driver,
but an immortal fuck, apparently.
I don't know about you, but
that's not an act I'd like to follow.
But if that doesn't bother you...
What's his name, the driver?
Hunt. James Hunt.
You see, you share information
and I share information.
That's what teammates are for.
Where the hell are we going?
I promise
it'll be worth it.
Just keep them closed.
Wait for it.
Wait for it.
There. What do you say?
She's Formula 1.
Yes, she is, Superstar.
Your brother and I got together
with the bean counters.
And since the economics of F1
are not so significantly different
to the economics of Formula 2,
well, we thought if we were
going to be losing money,
we might as well be doing it on
the big roulette table in Formula 1.
You fat, little, inbred beauty.
Come here.
Actually, credit where it's due,
we got the idea from Niki.
- Who?
- Lauda.
Bought his way in, rather than
mess about in the lower divisions.
I thought, "Bloody hell, he's right."
No sponsorship, Superstar.
I hope you approve.
No vulgar logos
for cigarettes or condoms.
Just plain white with the flags. Ooh!
And racing overalls which read,
"Sex. Breakfast of champions."
So, when do we start?
- Soon as you're ready.
- Ready?
I've been waiting for this
my whole life.
- Hi, welcome to Watkins Glen.
- Hello!
When the season started,
people wondered
whether Lord Hesketh and his team
of upper-class enthusiasts
were bringing glamour
to the racing community, or just comedy.
Certainly, it was the first time
anyone had seen
a butler serving oysters and caviar
in the pits.
But they have made quite an impact.
Sixth in France, fourth in Britain
and third in Holland.
AH drivers on the track,
caution flags are out.
A severe crash at the Esses.
Red flag.
There is a car off the track.
And reports are reaching me
that there has been
a serious accident in qualifying.
Er, the identity of the driver we don't
currently have at the moment,
but, as you can tell
from all the activity
going on behind me towards the track,
it is clearly a grave incident indeed.
We will, of course,
have more information for you
as and when we get it,
but it is the sight and sound
of Formula 1 nobody likes to see.
- Get your hands off me.
- Hey, come on.
Drivers of top stature
we've lost just in the past four seasons
have included Piers Courage,
Jochen Rindt,
Jo Siffert, Roger Williamson
and today, at Watkins Glen,
Formula 1 has claimed another driver.
The Tyrrell team
have withdrawn from the race.
Their places on the grid
will be left empty.
- Terrible.
- They should cancel the race.
Why?
He made a mistake,
went into the corner too fast.
It's his fault.
- Is that right?
- It's obvious.
Look at the tyre marks.
So says the nobody
who had to pay for his own drive.
How's that working out for you,
by the way?
Fine. How is it at the back?
Not planning on being there for long.
Ten minutes to the warm-up lap.
Ten minutes.
Arsehole.
Heading into
the Grand Hotel hairpin, second gear.
Turn in hard,
looking for late apex,
gentle with the bar.
Heading into Portier, second gear,
clip the apex,
light brake, stay in second,
looking for a good exit.
Heading through the tunnel,
gradual right,
up through third, fourth, fifth...
ls Alexander round?
Er, yes, he was.
He went back to the house
to take a call.
He'll be back shortly.
He only wanted to show me
his pride and joy.
Rhymes with "boy", if you ask me.
And "toy".
God, it's so flimsy
for something that costs so much.
There's no comfort,
no protection, nothing.
No, it's just a little coffin, really.
Surrounded by high-octane fuel in here.
Being driven round 170 miles per hour.
To all intents and purposes,
this thing's a bomb on wheels.
You're James, aren't you?
Yes.
You fit the description.
Is that right?
Suzy. Friend of Alex's.
Yeah, yeah. I know exactly.
What was the description?
Mostly positive,
in terms of appearance.
Negative only in terms of character.
I've been told to avoid you.
BY Whom?
Alexander. He says you're a bad boy.
Alexander doesn't know
what he's talking about.
I was. I'm not any more.
The new me is very professional.
Early to bed, early to rise.
- All very dull.
- Hmm.
But according to the team,
"The best way to
keep beating the goose-stepper."
Is that what you were doing
when I came in?
Yes, visualisation techniques,
memorising the circuit,
in this case Monaco, which is up next.
Personally, I've always been a great
believer in getting there on the day,
putting my foot down
and playing chicken with everyone else.
But they don't want me
doing that any more.
They want my body like a temple
and my mind like a monk.
And what about your soul, your heart?
Well, they've got ideas about that, too.
They want me to stop messing around,
settle down,
get married
with the next nice girl I meet.
They think it would be good for me.
Hmm. What do you think?
It sounds fucking awful.
But since they're right
about most things,
- they're probably right about that, too.
- Hmm.
You don't fancy getting married, do you?
Suzy.
Bravo!
Hey, hey, hey!
- What's going on with him?
- Nothing. Nothing.
Didn't want to ruin your day.
It's... It's the Kraut.
What about him?
He's just been signed by Ferrari.
You're kidding me?
Jesus. How did that happen?
Did he buy his way in there, too?
Well, the old man took Regazzoni back
and he insisted on it, apparently.
He says that Niki's a genius
setting up the cars.
It's terrible. Drives like a pig.
- Oh, you can't say that.
- Why not?
- It's a Ferrari!
- It's a shitbox.
It understeers like crazy and
the weight distribution is a disaster.
It's amazing, all these facilities
and you make a piece of crap like this.
Uh!
"Ferrari family."
"Our good friend Clay Regazzoni."
You are family and friend
to the commendatore as long as you win.
The minute you don't, ciao, ciao.
I totally understand. It's business.
I would do the same.
But it isn't
just business, is it? What we do.
It's passion, love.
Which is why we are prepared
to risk our lives for it.
Not me.
If I had more talent and could earn
better money with something else,
I would.
How do you know you will
make money here? You haven't yet.
Not yet, but I will.
If you can, I can.
You know, are you ever not an asshole?
- Why am I an asshole?
- Well...
You know, by now
I'm both quicker than you
and better at setting up the car.
You can't deal with it,
so you're the asshole.
Screw you.
I brought you along today because
you seem like a lonely kind of guy.
I thought if I introduced you
to some nice people,
that could rub off on you.
Forget it. Make your own friends.
Come on, Clay. I'm sorry.
Are you leaving?
Yes.
Can you give me a lift
to the nearest town,
anywhere with a train station?
Sure. Trento's half an hour's drive.
Get in.
J1 Been another blue day
without you, girl
J1 Been another sad summer song
J1 I been thinking about you, girl,
all night long
What are you doing?
You hear that noise when you accelerate?
- No.
- Your fan belt is loose.
My What?
And when you brake,
your foot goes all the way down,
which means there's air in the system.
- Anything else?
- No.
Apart from
the rear brakes are worn out,
the front right tyre's a bit soft,
which explains
why you're weaving so much.
Hmm. How can you tell?
- My ass.
- Sorry?
God gave me an okay mind,
but a really good ass,
which can feel everything in a car.
You don't know what
you're talking about. This car is fine.
- I just had a service a week ago.
- Not a good one.
Yes, a very good one, very expensive.
This car is as good as new. Relax.
Not in a hurry, are you?
No. As long as I'm back
in Maranello Monday morning.
Ja.
- Marlene.
- Niki.
Mi scusi... Tu sei Niki Lauda?
Yes.
- Actually, we do, yeah.
- Okay.
It's my honour, Niki, please.
- Thank you.
- My car is your car.
On one condition, though.
It's a piece of shit. It's dog shit.
But if you drive it,
you make my life, Niki, eh?
- Niki Lauda!
- Niki Lauda, Niki Lauda!
Will someone please tell me
what's going on?
Who are you? Should I know you?
What, you don't know?
He's Niki Lauda, Formula 1 driver,
and he just signed with Ferrari.
- Him?
- Yes.
- Impossible.
- Why?
Well, you know, Formula 1 drivers,
they have long hair, are sexy,
their shirts are open to here.
- Thank you.
- Yes.
Anyway, look at the way he's driving,
like an old man.
There's no need to drive fast.
It just increases
the percentage of risk.
We're not in a hurry.
I'm not being paid.
Right now,
with zero incentive or reward,
why would I drive fast?
Because I'm asking you to.
Ja.
This is an incredible battle
between Niki Lauda in the red Ferrari
and James Hunt in the white Hesketh.
...the challenge of Niki Lauda...
Lauda attacking Hunt.
Lauda gets through on the inside.
Goes wide at the exit.
Hunt is past again.
Once more
Lauda tries to sneak up the inside.
They're absolutely side by side,
wheel to wheel.
So evenly matched. Fantastic battle
between these two great drivers.
Hunt is now ahead once more.
But Lauda's coming back again now.
Lauda once more sneaks up the inside.
And again he runs wide.
Again the Hesketh...
- Suzy, we're ready, come on.
- Just... Just one second.
- Can we go, yeah?
- Okay, yeah.
We're in the closing laps
of this race here at Watkins Glen.
They come down the hill.
And Hunt's got a problem!
Hunt pulls across to the left.
Lauda goes ahead on his own.
A sad end to a wonderful battle.
Hunt pushing off the marshal.
The chequered ag
is waiting for Lauda and for Ferrari.
The title going to Niki Lauda,
who wins the race,
who wins the World Championship.
- Congratulations.
- Thank you.
Marlene.
With a car like that, the rest of us
never really stood a chance, did we?
Maybe the fact the car is so good
has something to do with me.
Come on, Niki. You're in a Ferrari.
I'm in a Hesketh.
Equal terms,
the way it was in Formula 3,
- I'd beat you and you know it.
- Never.
You might win one race, maybe two,
because you're aggressive.
But in the long run, over the course
of a season, no chance.
Right. Why's that?
Because to be a champion,
it takes more than just being quick.
- It's the whole picture.
- Oh.
You're just a charger and a party guy.
That's why everybody likes you.
Try saying that
and tell me you're not jealous.
Why would I be jealous? Think about it.
All that affection, all those smiles
- is a sign of disrespect.
- Oh.
They don't fear you.
Whereas compare that to me.
Yes, compared to you, whom no one likes.
- Right.
- Not even his own teammates.
Right. Because I'm a serious guy.
I go to bed early,
I look after myself, look after my car.
- Yes, you're very well-behaved.
- Go to work, kick ass.
And then, after the race,
I go home instead of going to bars
and talk all this bullshit
with all these assholes.
Arseholes?
You should go home more often, too.
I heard you got married.
Yes, I did.
So where is she, this mysterious wife?
- In New York, working.
- Oh.
You know,
I've never seen you with her once.
No?
Well, maybe that's because
you're always at home,
on your own, looking after yourself,
being a good little boy.
Take a drink on me, James.
Thank you, Niki. I might just have two.
Right, Bubbles,
whatever it takes to beat
that prick next year, just say it.
Your word is my command.
There are no lengths
to which I will not go. I mean it.
What the hell's going on?
Where is everybody? What's the matter?
Do you know what the date is today?
Yes, it's November, the 14th. Why?
Do you have any idea
of the significance of that date?
I don't know.
Time to start killing pheasants?
Actually, it's the deadline
for securing sponsorship
for the forthcoming Formula 1 season.
Yes?
Which elapsed at midnight last night,
and we didn't attract any.
Well, so?
We aren't looking for sponsorship.
Like you said, condoms and cigarettes,
vulgar, right?
Right.
Except we are, or were.
I've made something of a miscalculation.
The economics, Formula 1,
realities thereof.
It turns out,
not like the lower divisions at all.
What are you saying?
I'm saying it's over, Superstar.
The banks have stepped in,
started laying everyone off.
Probably have to sell this place.
Oh, Christ.
I need a drive, Pete.
I need you to find me a drive.
I mean, what about Lotus?
You don't wanna know.
- Actually, I do.
- Okay. Uh...
They felt your reputation preceded you.
And what does that mean?
It's my other line.
Look, I'll get back to you.
Peter Hunt.
Fuck.
Don't worry. Something will turn up.
Doubt that will help in the meantime.
Why don't we go away at the weekend?
Skiing. Before I go back to New York.
Talk to me, James.
Don't make a stranger of me.
You know, Suzy,
only a stranger would invite me skiing
when they know
I haven't got a fucking drive.
I can't watch this.
What were you hoping for anyway?
A well-adjusted knight
in shining armour?
No danger of that.
- Let me give you some advice.
- I'm all ears.
Don't go to men who are willing
to kill themselves driving in circles
- looking for normality.
- I never expected normality.
God knows I walked into this
with my eyes open.
I just hoped I'd married someone
who was half as impressive
on the inside as he is on the outside.
At least there's something
behind the facade.
- Oh, James.
- Fuck off to New York, dear.
There must be a moisturiser
or an eye shadow somewhere
that needs your vapid mush to flog it.
- Hello?
- Hi, James.
It's Peter. Something's up at McLaren.
- What have you heard?
- Nothing. Why?
I heard Emerson's off.
He's dumped them in it.
Jesus. Get me in there, Pete.
Say anything, just get me in that room.
I'll come straight to the point.
- Our esteemed lead driver...
- Fitti-fucking-paldi.
...has ditched us for another team
at the last minute.
- Coper-fucking-sucar.
- And we need a replacement.
ASA-fucking-P.
Fortunately, a few hands
have already gone up, good people.
- Jacky Ickx.
- I'm quicker than Jacky.
- But he's consistent, dependable.
- A grown-up.
Right, and will he go for that gap
when no one else will?
Will he put his life on the line
the day that it really matters?
The sponsors like him.
What do you want,
a driver or a brush salesman?
- We wanna be successful.
- Yes, so do I.
But that means beating Niki Lauda,
not being a show pony for sponsors.
I heard about this thing with Niki.
Everyone has.
- You really think you can beat him?
- I'd beat him in a McLaren.
It's the only car out there
as quick as the Ferrari.
Which is why I'm here, begging.
Look, I'll do whatever you ask.
I'll put on a tie,
I'll smile for sponsors,
say the right things.
I can beat this guy, trust me.
Just give me the drive.
Yeah.
Yeah, he can be a loose cannon.
And, yeah, he will drive you all mad,
but in terms of raw talent
and right stuff,
there is no better driver in the world.
He's the real thing, Teddy.
- He's what we all came into this for.
- Mmm.
Nine days out of ten
you'll be pulling your hair out,
but on that tenth day,
James will be unbeatable.
And that is the day you will wish
you had him in your car.
You will never win the championship
with Jacky Ickx.
You just might with James.
Welcome to Sao Paulo, Brazil,
and the Interlagos circuit
for the first race
in the 1976 Formula 1 season,
where the main news is that James Hunt
has qualified fastest,
beating Niki Lauda's Ferrari
to pole position
by just two hundredths of a second.
New car.
- I noticed.
- Pole position.
I noticed that, too.
Level playing field now,
my ratty little friend.
Yeah. Let's see where we are
after lap one.
Let's see where we are
in five races' time.
Hunt has the pit lane pole position,
which should give him the best chance
of outdragging Lauda's Ferrari.
If ever there was a doubt about
whether Lauda had
a serious challenger to this season,
Hunt and his McLaren
have certainly given us the answer.
Here in South Africa,
James Hunt is determined to make amends
after that disastrous retirement
in Brazil.
But it's Lauda who takes the ag
here at Kyalami.
James Hunt comes home second
to confirm his championship
challenge at last
and score his first points
of the season.
That wind you can feel
is me breathing down your neck.
Next time I'll have you.
We'll see in Spain.
James Hunt finally takes
his first victory of the season
here in Spain, after a brilliant drive.
It was only a matter of time.
Luca, don't you think it's time
to tell them?
- It's too wide.
- Disqualified.
- What?
- You're disqualified.
How can we be disqualified?
- 1.5 centimetres.
- It's the same car.
Giustissimo.
You fucking...
...McLaren M23
has proved very controversial here.
Just make it narrower. I don't care how.
New rear suspension.
New wishbones.
I wanna make sure
this thing is legal, no doubts.
Well, then we'd better move the
oil coolers back to the old position.
With the oil coolers back, the
wing brackets need to be changed, too.
Fuck.
What the fuck
d'you think we're doing?
And with Hunt disqualified
from his Spain win,
his championship year is not going well.
And now it's all gone wrong
here at Monaco!
His engine is smoking.
Smoke pouring
from the engine of that McLaren!
And James Hunt is out!
- Can you tell us what happened?
- Sure. It's magic.
We've taken a great car,
a great piece of engineering,
and overnight turned it into
a big, huge, stinking turd.
Shit!
What the hell have you done?
The car's evil.
It's fucking undriveable!
James, look, if there's a problem
with the car we'll find it...
The car is a piece of shit.
You should be appealing this.
- We are appealing it.
- We will sort it out.
- They're killing us out there.
- Go and get your dick wet.
- You're a wanker.
- Fuck you.
- You're a fucking wanker.
- I will, arsehole.
But this was a good race for you,
no, Niki?
It's good for everyone
that the quickest car
happens to be a legal car.
James, you're 50 points
behind Lauda in the championship.
You've had another retirement today.
What's going wrong?
Oh, it's dirty politics
and dirty tricks,
that's what's going wrong.
So, as we approach
the halfway point
in this year's Formula 1 season,
Ferrari and Niki Lauda
seem clearly on top,
and James Hunt and McLaren
are struggling.
So, five races in,
how's it going so far?
It's fine. Just got a little problem
with an Austrian rat
and his team of Italian cheats
- who have destroyed my car.
- What are you talking about?
I'm talking about the race in Spain
that I won.
- Yeah, in a car which is not legal.
- Five-eighths of an inch too wide.
You know that doesn't have
the slightest effect on speed.
But you complained and your team
of lawyers leaned on the authorities.
Now we've had to rebuild the car,
and it's become a monster.
- At least it's a legal monster.
- You've had to resort to cheating.
You're driving an illegal car
and call me the cheat? It's pathetic.
- Rules are rules.
- Yes, and rats are rats.
Thank you. Thank you.
Do you really think it upsets me, James,
calling me a rat
because I look like one?
I don't mind it.
Rats are ugly, sure,
and nobody likes them,
but they're very intelligent and
they have a strong survival instinct.
- Wonderful.
- Marlene, komm.
No wonder she left him.
Anyone seen Suzy?
She's supposed to be here today.
We, er... didn't wanna tell you
before the race.
Tell me what?
Jesus.
Is that from him?
Yeah.
So when did all this start?
That weekend I went skiing.
Why have you come here, James?
I've come to get you back.
You don't want me back.
You never wanted to be married
in the first place.
- Yes, I did.
- Oh, come on, James.
You did it because
you hoped it might change you,
settle you down, help with the racing.
No, I didn't.
And who knows?
If it had been just the drinking
or the dope or the infidelity
or the moods,
it might even have worked.
- But when it's all of them...
- Yes, I know, I'm terrible.
No, you're not terrible.
You're just who you are
at this point in your life.
God help anyone who wants more.
And Richard Burton,
will he able to give you more?
You know, he has quite
the bad boy reputation himself.
What's important is how it feels to me,
and it feels like he adores me.
- James!
- New York Times!
Are you and Suzy getting back together?
- James, how do you feel...
- It's all very amicable.
My wife has found herself
a new backer...
I mean, lover, which makes her happy.
And Mr Burton has found
a way of feeling young again,
which makes him happy.
Let's hope his pockets are deep.
They'll need to be.
And I've found a way to be single
and have an ex-wife
without it costing me a penny,
which has got to go down
as the biggest win of my career.
I have a flight to catch.
We haven't seen
this sort of intensity
from James Hunt all season long.
Reports have been coming out
of the McLaren camp all week
that their car is now fully legal
and faster than ever.
Never mind the bloody wets.
We're still quick.
Hunt has really closed the gap on Lauda
as they head into Druids.
Niki Lauda is under real pressure
from James Hunt
as they go up the hill
into Druids Corner.
And Hunt is in front of Lauda!
So James Hunt gets the plaudits
of the crowd, the first Briton to win
a British Grand Prix at Brands Hatch
since Jim Clark in 1964.
James, at the moment
you've got a terrific edge
over the rest of the field.
How have you achieved this advantage?
Big balls.
Would you...
Following an inquiry
into the disqualification
of driver James Hunt
from the Spanish Grand Prix,
it has been decided
- to overturn this disqualification...
- Yes!
...and to restore his victory
and reinstate his points.
James! James!
James, a few weeks ago
you were out of the running
for the season completely,
and now you're right back in it.
- What's changed?
- Well, it's a combination of factors -
not all of which I'm prepared
to discuss here -
but justice being done
re the disqualification in Spain helps,
and having my car
back at its best again.
James! James!
Welcome to the legendary Nurburgring.
This is a 14.2-mile track,
complete with 185 corners and bends.
Welcome to the Nurburgring,
the most dangerous circuit
on the season calendar.
In Formula 1 it is known
as the Graveyard.
The weather conditions
are far from ideal,
and latest reports indicate
there is no relief in sight.
Gentlemen. Well, gentlemen,
please be quiet.
Thank you. Niki Lauda.
Thank you.
I called this meeting because,
as all you drivers know,
the Nurburgring is the most stupid,
barbaric, outdated
and dangerous track in the world.
You've all seen the rain
that has been falling today.
Now, those of you with experience know
the ring needs perfect conditions
to be even remotely acceptable
in terms of risk.
And today, with the rain,
it's anything but perfect,
so I called this meeting to
take a vote to cancel the race.
Cancel the race?
There would be no change
to the situation
as far as points is concerned.
- The race would simply be cancelled.
- This is bullshit.
If the race is cancelled,
none of us get our race fees.
That's true, you leave without your fee,
but you might leave with your life.
It also means that you would
effectively win the championship.
So, I can see why
this suits you just fine.
Why? There would be
no points for me either.
No, but there would be one race less
where I, or anyone else here,
could catch you.
James is right. This is just tactics.
Maybe he's just frightened.
Which asshole said this?
Yes, of course I'm frightened,
and so are you.
I accept, every time I get in my car,
there is 20 per cent chance I could die,
and I can live with it,
but not one per cent more.
And today, with the rain,
the risk is more.
I suppose that all depends
on how good you are in the rain.
I have the track record here.
I am the only person in history
to do the ring in under seven minutes.
So, actually, it's to my advantage
to race here today.
Because I'm quicker than all of you.
- Come on.
- Fine. Then let's race.
- Come on, Niki, let's race.
- Gentlemen, please.
Why are we here, Niki? Come on.
Well, all those in favour
of cancelling the race.
All those in favour of racing.
Gentlemen, the race is on.
- Ridiculous.
- What a waste of time.
You know, Niki, every now and then
it helps if people like you.
In places
the track is still dangerously wet,
but following a drivers' meeting,
a decision has finally been taken.
The race is going ahead.
Niki!
One minute to go.
Jochen's going on slicks.
You wanna change?
- Is Niki gonna change?
- No.
Then we stay on wets, too.
- Niki, okay?
- I'm good.
All right, fire her up.
This season's fight for
the Formula 1 World Championship
has so far been the story of two men.
Thus far, it's been going
pretty much the way of Niki Lauda.
But James Hunt
has qualified fastest here.
He is on pole position
for the German Grand Prix,
with Niki Lauda alongside
in the blood-red Ferrari.
It's a long race.
If the track starts to dry out,
the wet-weather tyres
will no longer be as quick.
Niki Lauda
and James Hunt, side by side
on the front row of the grid,
go away absolutely as one.
Lauda very aggressive on Hunt there,
forcing the McLaren onto the grass.
Lauda has the lead at the moment.
Lauda leads into the first corner.
Hunt is in second place.
Mass storming past Hunt!
He made the right choice
to go with the dry-weather tyres.
Mass passing Lauda now!
Jochen Mass, in the number 12 McLaren,
takes the lead!
Jochen Mass the clear leader,
with everybody else making the decision
to change tyres
after just one lap of this race.
He's coming in! Come on, let's go!
See? I told you to go on slicks.
You should have taken my advice.
Fuck off. Where's Niki?
Behind you.
He made the same mistake.
Come on!
Come on! What's going on?
The tyre-changing frenzy has caused
a huge reshuffling of the pack,
- with Jochen Mass in the lead now.
- You're clear. Go!
Quick!
Lauda urging his mechanics to hurry.
Quicker, quicker, quicker!
It's a disaster! Come on!
What's going on, you assholes?
This race has gone wrong for him so far.
His championship rival, James Hunt,
is a long way up the road.
Lauda passing car after car.
He's just going past
Mario Andretti's Lotus there.
Niki!
Get me out! Help me!
We have an accident
on the course. Red flags are out.
Several cars are involved. Looks like
it might be one of the Ferraris.
- Come this way.
- Come on, come on!
Keep trying.
- Come this way.
- Okay.
The ood, which swept
down Big Thompson Canyon in Colorado,
was the worst since records began.
In Formula 1 today,
victory celebrations were muted
after a horrific accident involving
world champion Niki Lauda.
Due to safety concerns before the race,
the Austrian had said
he would not take part,
but in the end he did.
He was making up for lost time
when he went off the track,
puncturing the Ferrari's fuel tank.
Brett Lunger was unable to
avoid the flaming wreck,
but was unhurt and joined with
the other drivers to rescue Lauda,
who was taken to Mannheim Hospital
with severe burns,
the incident reminding us again
of the dangers of Formula 1.
Niki Lauda was trapped
for almost a minute
in a searing inferno
of 800-plus degrees.
- Do we have any change this morning?
- No...
Frau Lauda. Frau Lauda?
- Morning, chaps.
- Hey, here's the man.
Looking good.
- What's going on?
- Jesus. It's Niki.
- What about him?
- He's here.
- What?
- He's racing.
Niki.
It's that bad, huh?
No.
In hospital I asked them straight,
no bullshit,
how bad my appearance would be.
They said with time it would be fine.
But it won't.
I can tell, seeing your reaction.
I will spend the rest of my life
with a face that frightens people.
You know, Niki, I tried to write you
a letter at the time, to apologise.
The drivers' meeting in Germany,
before the race.
- I swayed the room.
- Yes, you did.
That race should never have gone ahead.
No, it shouldn't.
So, in many ways, I feel responsible
for what happened, and...
You were.
But, trust me...
watching you win those races
while I was fighting for my life...
...you were equally responsible
for getting me back in the car.
- How are you feeling, Niki?
- Fine.
Niki, can you confirm to us exactly
which procedures you've had
and the expectations for your recovery?
Sure.
I had a skin graft operation,
where they put half my right thigh
in my face.
Now, it doesn't look too good,
but one unexpected advantage is
it's impossible to perspire
through a skin graft,
so sweat will never run into my eyes
again, which is good for a driver.
When they heard about your condition,
Ferrari immediately hired
a replacement driver, Carlos Reutemann.
Yeah, before even reaching the hospital.
Is Reutemann driving today, too?
Yes, and keen to make an impression.
So, let's see where Mr Reutemann
finishes and where I finish today.
James Hunt and McLaren have
caught up a lot while you were away.
Yes.
So is there a question now,
or are you just trying to piss me off?
You still think you can win?
Yes, of course.
I have the better car.
And possibly I'm the better driver.
But he's a clever guy,
and he's used his time well
while I was lying half-dead in hospital
to win some points.
And what did your wife say
when she saw your face?
She said, "Sweetie,
you don't need a face to drive.
"You just need a right foot."
I'm being serious.
Do you really think your marriage can
survive with the way you look now?
And I'm being serious, too.
Fuck you. Press conference over.
- That was hairy.
- Well, you got noticed, Clive.
I'll tell you that.
I thought it went well,
to be honest.
They don't like it
when it's not going their way.
- Clive.
- That's the game.
- See you.
- See you later.
- James, are you all right?
- Good, yeah.
Listen, I think
I've got something for you
on that last question, about Niki.
- You heard about that?
- I did.
James.
Please, James...
Now go home to your wife
and ask her how you look.
Prick.
So Niki Lauda, just 42 days after
his near-fatal accident at Nurburgring,
will race here today at Monza
against all medical advice
and no doubt in incredible pain.
...Niki Lauda!
Photographers,
please clear the grid.
Niki, it's time.
Okay?
Please clear the grid.
One minute to go.
The returning Niki Lauda
seems overwhelmed.
He's being overtaken by car after car.
Lauda's off line.
He runs wide onto the grass.
He wrestles it back onto the track,
but that was a bad moment for Niki.
Niki Lauda's the reigning
world champion,
but maybe in his current state
he's a danger out there,
to himself and to the rest of the field.
And Stuck has collided
with Mario Andretti's Lotus!
Niki's boxed in. He's got nowhere to go.
Niki Lauda is actually
making a move. He's on Brambilla's tail.
He pulls out of the slipstream
to overtake.
Lauda's starting to find the form
that, early in this race,
we believed he'd lost.
Lauda's now lapping faster than
Reutemann and closing the gap ahead.
Lauda closing on Carlos Reutemann,
the man called in to be his replacement
in the Ferrari team.
And there's James Hunt's McLaren,
smoking stationary
by the side of the road.
This is bad news for Hunt's
championship hopes.
It's Ronnie Peterson
who comes home the winner here at Monza.
But all eyes are on the man
who finishes a brilliant fourth,
Niki Lauda!
What a race, what a man,
what a season.
With a fourth-place finish
and three priceless points,
it means that Niki Lauda
is a major step closer
to retaining the World Championship.
So, the long, gruelling
and incredibly dramatic season
comes down to this final race in Japan
in the shadow of Mount Fuji.
Niki Lauda goes into
this deciding race at Fuji
just three points ahead of James Hunt.
Hunt knowing he must beat the Austrian
fair and square to take the title.
James, do you think
you can cope with the pressure?
Well, I've never really understood
what that means. I love my job.
I love competing. I love racing.
Maybe you should ask Niki.
He's the World Champion.
He's got everything to lose.
Mr Lauda,
are you feeling pressure?
Do I look like I'm feeling pressure?
I am World Champion, and on the verge
to become World Champion again.
Hunt now has the opportunity to win,
but it's not so easy
to become a champion.
You have to really believe it
to make it possible.
James, is there anything
you'd like to add?
If Niki is being tricky and getting
a kicky out of playing mind games...
...then fine, I'm flattered.
But the fact is, momentum is with me.
I've never felt better.
And I fully expect the next
press conference we will have
will be with me as World Champion.
How will you cope
with the weather, bad conditions?
Intermittent heavy rain
has been forecast here at Fuji today,
along with strong winds
and occasional fog
rolling in from the mountain.
And so, with today's
Japanese Grand Prix to come,
Lauda's lead a mere three points.
What a way to finish the season.
Hunt or Lauda?
Well, the final chapter will unfold when
we bring you extended coverage...
They've got to cancel the race.
It's lethal out there.
The race is going ahead.
Television rights have been sold
all around the world.
The showdown between you and Niki
is all anyone wants to see.
With heavy rain
continuing to fall here at Fuji,
a decision has finally been made.
The 1976 Japanese Grand Prix
will go ahead.
AH drivers
to your cars, please.
Five minutes to go.
- All right?
- All right.
- Hold still.
- What the hell are you doing?
To let the condensation out.
- It'll also let the water in.
- Not if you're leading.
Trust me,
this race is all about the start.
- Need a hand here?
- Yeah, hold it, Teddy.
Okay, start the bastard.
Good luck, kid.
Good luck, James.
Thirty seconds to go.
Electric tension here at Fuji.
80,000 bedraggled race fans and
the racing grudge match of the decade.
And there's Mario Andretti
in pole position,
James Hunt alongside him.
On Row 2 of the grid,
there is Niki Lauda,
and on Row 3 of the grid,
Jody Scheckter from South Africa
in the six-wheel Tyrrell.
Behind him,
the rest of the 25-car field.
There's the flag, and finally
the Japanese Grand Prix is underway!
In these conditions,
it must be almost impossible to drive
a 450-horsepower car.
And it's Andretti who has the lead,
but Hunt is attacking.
Hunt's going round
the outside of Andretti.
Niki Lauda following him through.
Hunt leads into the first right-hander.
Hunt comes through
to complete his first lap,
leading the field.
At least he has clear vision
in front of him.
Niki Lauda, behind him,
eating his spray.
Lauda is slowing.
Niki Lauda is bringing
the Ferrari number one into the pit.
Some sort of problem, we can't
imagine what, so early in the race.
What's wrong with the car?
What's wrong with the car?
Niki, what's wrong with the car?
Nothing. Car's perfect.
- What are you doing?
- I'm stopping.
His mechanics
are asking what the problem is.
But wait!
Niki Lauda's getting out of the car!
This is sensational!
The reigning World Champion,
Niki Lauda, is out of this race.
It's too dangerous.
Niki, you want me to say there was
a problem with the car, for the media?
No.
Tell them the truth.
Now, what is happening?
They're talking to the team manager.
Lauda explaining something.
With Lauda out, James Hunt
knows he has to finish this race
in third place or higher
to be World Champion.
But the job's not done yet
for James Hunt.
In these dreadful conditions,
he still has to go the distance.
Fifteen laps to go here at Fuji.
James Hunt or Niki Lauda?
This extraordinary season
is not over yet.
In this treacherous final round,
can James Hunt hang on?
And the scoreboard tells a story.
Lap 58. Hunt in the lead.
Oh, God, his tyres, they're blistering.
Brambilla very close behind now,
closing on him all the time now.
And he's trying to drive
inside James Hunt.
Hunt cuts across the orange March nose.
Hunt's not having that at all.
And he's spinning.
He missed Hunt there, but almost
took James Hunt out of the race
and out of the world championship.
Now we find Mario Andretti
closing on James Hunt.
Mario Andretti's going past Hunt!
Hunt is slowing. James Hunt
seems to have a problem.
Despite these wet conditions,
these wet-weather tyres
do wear extremely fast.
Hunt's tyres, they've gone.
Hunt nursing his car
back to the pit stop.
That back marker's going past Hunt.
Look at that left front tyre...
Right front tyre, sorry.
No tread on it at all.
And the other one is flat.
Let's go! Let's go!
Okay? When did you break
your gear lever?
Nine or ten laps ago.
- Alastair, we need to lift it.
- Come on!
- At the front.
- Let's go.
Regazzoni's Ferrari
and Jacques Lafitte in the Ligier
have gone ahead.
Come on, hurry!
You did it.
You're going to be World Champion!
Not yet.
A few laps ago, James Hunt
was looking like champion elect.
Now it looks as though
it's all gone wrong for him.
- James.
- Come on!
- Listen.
- What?
Just go easy out there.
- What are you saying?
- I'm saying look after yourself.
We want you back in one piece.
You're too far back. There's
too many drivers in front of you.
- There's always next year.
- So that's it? It's over?
Clear!
James.
- Clear!
- Fuck it!
James Hunt rejoins the race
in sixth position.
There are four laps left to go.
Surely no way back for the Brit now.
Concentrate, Superstar.
Just brings it back under control.
Sliding the McLaren
on the very edge there.
Hunt's M23
twitching this way and that
under braking.
And he almost loses it right there.
Hunt on the tail
of Jacques Lafitte in the blue Ligier.
Oh, don't do it, James.
He's inches away
from the pit wall.
He's inches away from the Ligier.
James Hunt has made up another place,
but it's not enough,
and this race is running out.
And Watson has spun.
Watson has spun.
Hunt manages to weave his way
between that back marker
and the stationary Penske.
He's catching Regazzoni
but, in these conditions,
it's one thing to catch up,
it's quite another to overtake.
He's alongside Clay Regazzoni.
This could be the world championship.
He's got him!
Hunt crosses the line.
Now, he needed to finish third to score
enough points to be World Champion,
and in the confusion here, we're being
told that he may have finished fifth.
He finished fifth?
Our lap charts
show Hunt in third place.
Well, if the scoreboard's right,
it means he's just missed out
on the championship.
Crushing defeat for Hunt
after such a heroic drive.
I can see the race stewards conferring,
examining the official lap charts.
We're just going to have to wait
for their verdict here.
Let's get you out of there, buddy.
I'm sorry, Teddy. I'm sorry.
I thought I could make up the ground.
Sorry? What are you talking about?
You did it.
- Did what?
- Jesus. You crazy bastard.
You came third. You got the points.
You're champion of the world!
James Hunt
is now officially confirmed
as finishing third here in Japan,
and that means
he is champion of the world.
Our new World Champion,
James Hunt, by just one single point.
Did we really win?
World bloody Champion!
Tell us, James,
what are you going to do now?
I shall be getting drunk.
It's wonderful,
an absolute dream...
And our special guest,
Formula 1 champion James Hunt.
Wait. Come on.
There's no better motor oil
than Havoline.
Yes, me, too.
Where are we going?
Anywhere I want to go.
And I don't have to hijack it, either.
As long as I pay for it.
I'm starving.
Let's get some food.
- Where are we going?
- You lot go ahead.
I won't be a minute.
Good to see you.
I heard you were spending
more and more time in one of these.
- Do you fly?
- No.
I don't think they'd insure me.
You should try.
It's good for discipline.
You have to stay within the rules,
stick to regulations,
suppress the ego.
It helps with the racing.
And there I was thinking
you were about to wax lyrical
about the romance of flight.
No, that's all bullshit.
So, what brings you here?
A friend's wedding.
At least I think it was a wedding.
Might have been a birthday or something.
It's all a bit of a blur.
How about you? Have you been at Fiorano?
Pre-season testing.
- You're relentless.
- Thank you.
I'm not sure that was meant
as a compliment.
When do you start testing? Next week?
No. What, are you nuts?
I didn't just win
the biggest thing of my life
so I could get right back to work.
Why? You have to.
To prove to all the people who will
always say you just won it because...
Because of what?
Because of your accident?
Niki, is that other people,
or is that you?
I won, okay? On the all-important day,
when it came down to it,
we raced on equal terms,
equally good cars.
And I put my life on the line,
and I saw it through.
- And you call that winning?
- Yes.
The risks were totally unacceptable.
You were prepared to die.
To me, that's losing.
Yes, I was. I admit it.
I was prepared to die
to beat you that day.
And that's the effect you have on me.
You'd pushed me that far.
And it felt great.
I mean, hell,
isn't that what we're in this for?
To stare death in the face
and to cheat it?
Come on, there's nobility in that.
It's... It's like being knights.
You English, you're such assholes.
You know my position.
Twenty per cent risk.
No, no, no, Niki, don't bring the
percentages into this. Don't be a pro.
The minute you do that,
you kill what's good about this.
You kill the sport.
James!
- James!
- Come on!
I've got to go.
Careful in this thing.
James.
You know, in hospital, the toughest part
of my treatment was the vacuum.
Pumping the shit out of my lungs.
It was hell.
And while doing it,
I was watching television.
- You winning all my points.
- Your points?
"That bastard Hunt," I would say.
"I hate that guy."
And then one day
the doctor came and said,
"Mr Lauda,
may I offer a piece of advice?
"Stop thinking of it as a curse to
have been given an enemy in life.
"It can be a blessing, too.
"A wise man gets more from his enemies
than a fool from his friends."
And you know what? He was right.
Look at us. We were both
a pair of kids when we met.
Hot-headed jerks in Formula 3.
Disowned by our families.
Headed nowhere.
And now we're both
champions of the world.
It was not bad, huh?
No, it's not bad.
So, don't let me down now.
I need you busting my balls.
- Get back to work.
- I will, Niki, I will.
But I intend to enjoy myself first.
Some of life needs to be for pleasure.
What's the point of having
a million cups and medals and planes
if you don't have any fun?
How is that winning?
- James!
- We're gonna leave without you!
James!
I'll see you on race day, champ.
You will... champ.
You look good, Niki.
The only guy to have his face burnt off
and it be an improvement.
Of course,
he didn't listen to me.
For James,
one world title was enough.
He had proved
what he needed to prove, to himself
and anyone who doubted him.
And two years later he retired.
When I saw him next in London
seven years later,
me as champion again,
him as broadcaster,
he was barefoot
on a bicycle with a flat tyre.
Still living each day like his last.
When I heard he'd died,
aged 45, of a heart attack,
I wasn't surprised.
I was just sad.
People always think of us as rivals,
but he was among the very few I liked,
and even fewer that I respected.
He remains the only person I envied.