1988 F1 Season !exclusive! Official

Senna stood up without a word. He walked out into the wet Suzuka night, alone. A mechanic handed him a towel. He didn't take it. He just stared at the sky, where the rain had finally stopped, and whispered something in Portuguese.

The home crowd was a yellow wave of chaos. Senna, starting from pole, led every lap. But with six to go, a clumsy backmarker, Philippe Alliot, drifted across the track. Senna swerved, clipped the inside wall, and the gearbox screamed its death rattle. He coasted to a stop, helmet in hands, as the roar of the crowd turned to a funeral dirge. Prost sailed past to win. 1988 f1 season

"I will not let him pass," Prost told his engineer. "He will have to kill us both." Senna stood up without a word

He climbed out, furious, and tried to push the car back onto the track himself. Marshals had to physically restrain him. Prost won again. In the press conference, Prost said, "Sometimes you must know the limit." Senna, watching on a monitor back in the garage, threw a helmet against the wall. He didn't take it

Senna looked up from his racing gloves. "If you mean the championship, Alain, I don't need your charity."

At Silverstone, Prost complained of a "lack of grip" and finished second to Senna. At Hockenheim, Senna's engine blew while leading, and Prost won again. The points gap widened. Prost, the mathematician, knew that even with Senna winning the remaining races, he could clinch the title by finishing second. Senna, the artist, only knew that he had to win everything.