Why Hamilton's F1 legacy is secure, whatever happens next... probably

F1

When should an F1 driver quit? As Lewis Hamilton is set for a move to Ferrari, Damien Smith says that a world champion's legacy isn't shaped by anything other than his success — save for a rare and notable exception

Lewis Hamilton puts on Mercedes F1 racesuit

Hamilton is set to leave Mercedes for Ferrari in 2025

Beata Zawrzel/NurPhoto

“Tarnishing my legacy? Do me a favour.” That was Andy Murray’s withering response this week when a journalist questioned whether playing on – and regularly losing – at the creaking age of 36 will affect how we remember him. This is Britain’s finest male tennis player since Fred Perry, remember.

In the same moment he dismissed the notion, Murray did also admit to being in a “terrible moment” in terms of his form. He has yet to win a tennis match this year, yet is adamant he “won’t quit”. You could argue he should. But like so many sports people he is utterly dedicated to his vocation and knows he’ll be a long time retired. It’s his right if he wants to squeeze every last drop from a gilt-edged career capped by three Grand Slam titles, including those two unforgettable Wimbledon crowns in 2013 and ’16, and two Olympic gold medals. His ‘legacy’ is safe, however long he chooses to stretch out his time on the courts and however many times he suffers another valiant defeat.

We see it all the time in motor racing too. Drivers who just can’t let it go. Do they care about legacies? Perhaps it’s just us media types who like to dwell on such context, to place our sporting stars in a neatly labelled box that need never be opened again once they are safely cocooned in retirement. I’ve been guilty of such behaviour myself. Countless times I’ve written how Jackie Stewart got it right, quitting at the top of his game and never looking back, preserving his pristine legacy as one of Britain’s greatest-ever sportsmen.

But what if, say, in 1978 he’d felt the urge to go beyond the TV demo runs and tests he still regularly dabbled in to keep his hand in, eased himself into Maurice Phillippe’s Tyrrell 008 and made a full-blown comeback – simple because he couldn’t leave well alone? It might have been considered foolhardy, but there would likely have been an underlying respect that he still had the fire in his belly. And whatever happened, it wouldn’t have affected how we remembered his mainstream F1 career between 1965 and ’73.

Jackie Stewart and Francois Cevert on 1973 Belgian GP podium

Jackie Stewart, here at Zolder, '73, walked away at the peak of his powers

Bernard Cahier/Getty Images

Michael Schumacher with bowed head at the side of the track after crashing in the 2012 Singapore GP

2012 Singapore GP crash was a low point of an underwhelming comeback

Getty Images

Look at Michael Schumacher. Unlike Stewart, he couldn’t settle into retirement, came back with Mercedes for three seasons – and mostly underwhelmed. Some of us considered it a little sad given his previous heights of performance, but now, more than 10 years on, those final fling seasons have been compartmentalised into their own little box. When we think of Schumacher, his ‘second coming’ in silver doesn’t tend to be among our first thoughts. Our memories are dominated by his Benetton and Ferrari years, the patchwork of wonders and ethically questionable ‘professional fouls’ that made him such a compelling sporting colossus. His legacy, whatever that means and whatever Schumacher supposedly represents, was always safe just like Murray’s today.

Is legacy a factor in Lewis Hamilton’s mooted (and potentially sensational) switch to Ferrari for 2025? My first thought is, at 39, his patience has snapped with his current team and he doesn’t see how it will deliver him what he needs to win that eighth title. He has little to lose by making such a move. Can Ferrari deliver him what he needs? Of course, he can’t know for sure. But time is tight and he might as well find out. As for his legacy… yes, it’s safe, isn’t it? Whatever happens from here on in cannot take away all those years of hybrid-era domination. The move, if it comes to pass, will be a huge shot in the arm for F1 and Hamilton will likely gain mostly credit – among the inevitable haters – for giving the tree such a vigorous shake.

From the archive

But do such people actual care how we remember them? That thought was forefront recently when I met Alain Prost for a rare interview. You can read the results in the March issue of Motor Sport, which has gone on sale this week.

This is one of the greatest racing drivers who for more than a decade set the benchmark in F1. Yet through the prism of a certain rivalry and too-binary perceptions of how he supposedly operated has found his career ‘tarnished’ (that word again) by a quick-to-judge – and quick-to-post – critical world. The label on Prost’s box claims that he was ‘political’.

I wondered whether it bothers him. After all, no amount of sniping can ever take away his own memories of those years. He knows how good he was and why he was able to achieve what he did, and that’s what counts the most. Isn’t it? But I also knew as I headed down to the McLaren Technology Centre to meet him that it was a bit of an issue. He has touched upon it before. Still, I wasn’t expecting him to be quite so open about how much it troubles him. It really does hurt and he appears a little bewildered by how he is perceived.

Alain Prost with Renault car in F1 pits 1983

Prost showed his mettle at Renault

Grand Prix Photo

“I do ask myself sometimes how I am going to be remembered,” he admitted in his quiet, considered manner. “What you said about the political things… It sounds like a joke but I’m completely underrated! I know that. I can see. I don’t know why, but it’s my brand in a way.”

The reality is most of us care about what other people think of us – even those who claim they don’t. OK, perhaps Kimi Räikkönen, the most insouciant of them all, really couldn’t give a hoot – but it’s human nature to want to be liked. We all have egos, for the best of us to be the image that is portrayed to the wider world, be it in our social media posts or how people feel about us when we actually meet in the flesh. Of course Prost cares. I bet Andy Murray does too. Jackie Stewart certainly does.

In Prost’s case, the failure of his years as an F1 team owner, for a time, threatened to consume our view of him. He certainly took a battering in his native France, although as he alluded to in our interview his relationship with his home nation was always complicated.

Alain Prost and Ayrton Senna in McLaren garage

Prost’s supposed role in rivalry with Senna can overshadow his achievements

Pascal Pavani/AFP via Getty Images

But has that lost Midas touch once he stepped away from the cockpit really affected how we recall Alain Prost in the long-term? No. Today, we remember the racing driver first. The young man who fully belonged at the pinnacle the moment he arrived in a mediocre McLaren in 1980; who quickly established himself as the most complete F1 driver of his era in the yellow and black of Renault; who ascended finally to the status of world champion back in the Day-Glo and white of McLaren; who then found himself spiralling into the most toxic – yet celebrated – rivalry of them all. That’s Alain Prost. Not the harangued, aging before our eyes, haunted figure that stood biting his nails on pitwalls as his blue cars once again fell way short of his own high standards.

Legacy? It’s a pompous word. But how we are remembered does count, it does matter. Fortunately, it’s also human nature that for the majority who have left a positive mark, in whatever field of work or play, we tend to focus on the best of them. Yet there are unfortunate – and unfair – exceptions.

Is Alain Prost one of them? I really hope not.