Flashback: Alain Prost towers over Suzuka

The cancellation of this year’s Japanese Grand Prix has deprived Formula 1 of more than a magnificent race track. Suzuka also produced a very different kind of passion within bizarre and fascinating surroundings. A funfair in bright pastel colours, populated by babbling stall holders with high-pitched voices, brought a feel of Disney World to the area behind the main grandstand. A walk through this zone made an interesting start to the day, mainly because you never knew what to expect.

I came across this scene in 1989. Intrigued as to what the two guys would do next, I watched with increasing amusement as they tipped Alain Prost, face down, into a prone position, got underneath and carried him feet first through a road tunnel and into the paddock. Not long after, two more Marlboro promotion men struggled into view with a similar fully inflated effigy of Ayrton Senna. They managed to avoid a collision; that, of course, would be reserved for the real thing later in the day.

“Do one autograph and you’re completely finished. You’ll never reach the paddock.”

Japanese fans took fervour to a new level. Rather than run the gauntlet of spectator areas, drivers preferred to take a helicopter for a short hop from the circuit hotel to the paddock. You can imagine my surprise one year when I met Gerhard Berger, striding through the fair on a Friday morning. With hands buried in the pockets of his jacket, Gerhard explained that he was also captivated by a unique atmosphere that was admiring and yet gently menacing at the same time.

“Don’t stop; don’t take your hands out of your pockets,” he explained. “Do one autograph and you’re completely finished. You’ll never reach the paddock.”

Berger walked briskly. It made quite a sight, the lanky Austrian towering over a rapidly increasing number of followers stumbling and tripping as they tried to run backwards while taking photographs. The fans could not believe what they were seeing. By the time we got close to the sanctuary of the pedestrian tunnel under the pit straight, word had swept through the surrounding area – largely through squeals and screams. Some of the girls were sobbing, not because they weren’t getting an autograph but simply through being in the presence of an F1 superstar.

The security guard at the tunnel entrance, having experienced a typical orderly morning thus far, looked alarmed and then mildly terrified as he was descended upon by this racing idol with his unruly disciples. Seconds later we were in the tunnel, Berger chuckling as the cheerful commotion he had created became a distant echo.