On lap 43 of yesterday’s Japanese Grand Prix, Jules Bianchi’s Marussia lost control in heavy spray and left the circuit. He collided with a recovery vehicle that had been deployed to remove Adrian Sutil’s stricken Sauber, which had come to rest there after a similar incident moments earlier. Bianchi was far more seriously affected. From the images released yesterday evening, it appears he struck the rear of the yellow mobile crane, and part of the structure made contact with his helmet. He is now in hospital undergoing neurosurgery.
As several drivers have said, Bianchi’s condition overrides every other concern. Everyone here, along with many thousands around the world, hopes for his full and swift recovery. Even so, the immediate reaction to the crash revealed a few patterns worth reflecting on.
The shock across the paddock was unmistakable. The atmosphere, even on television, shifted instantly to one of deep alarm. That response is understandable and right, yet it is striking to see how taken aback some appeared in a sport built on immense speed and danger. Niki Lauda pointed this out.
This highlights something that is rarely addressed. Parts of F1 seem to have drifted from the reality that driving a racing car at up to 230mph carries unavoidable risk. It has long been recognised that anything entering the cockpit can be catastrophic. With Bianchi, we have seen this again. The sport must decide whether it intends to introduce cockpit protection. If not, it must accept that these incidents, while rare, may still occur. One must then ask whether the serious injury or possible loss of a driver is an acceptable consequence.
Another factor is the notion of a ‘perfect storm’. Although some well regarded figures have commented on the danger of the corner where Sutil and Bianchi went off, the conditions meant that a driver could have lost control almost anywhere in the closing stages of the race. The fact that Bianchi’s car went off near Sutil’s, and then struck the rear of the vehicle recovering it, was dreadful luck. Martin Brundle’s 1994 accident on the same part of the circuit is often cited, yet his outcome was different. The likelihood of two cars leaving the track in precisely the same spot, and then hitting a recovery vehicle, remains extremely low.
The sport’s collective morale is delicate at present, but this is not a moment to abandon calm thinking.