The Indianapolis 500. The Daytona 500. The 24-Hours of LeMans. What do these three races have in common? They all claim to be the biggest, most important motorsport event in the world. Sorry fans, I beg to disagree. The greatest race in the world is the Monaco Grand Prix.
That news may come as a shock to anyone who knows how difficult it is for modern F1 cars to pass in a corner, thanks (or no thanks) to aerodynamic aids. It may upset folks who are thrilled by high speeds of 200+ mph, learning that the average lap speed at Monaco is a mere 90 miles per hour. And with all due respect to my North American compatriots, I might even suggest that it may be difficult to accept that a European Grand Prix might actually be superior to anything held on this side of the Atlantic.
Before picking up your poison e-pens, hear me out. A great motor race is the sum of all its parts. That includes the location, the atmosphere, the glamour, the history, the people. Monaco (or Monte Carlo, if you prefer) is arguably the most glamorous place in the world. Beautiful people roam the streets, which themselves twist and turn, climb and fall, on the semi-mountainous territory. Almost everywhere you look a dramatic vista awaits, none more than the harbour itself, with the Royal Palace as backdrop. This, after all, was the home of the late Princess Grace and still is home to Prince Rainier, who hands out the trophies.
The Casino, the Sporting Club with its famed disco, dozens of friendly bistros and fine restaurants, beckon the visitor. If you buy a seat on the circuit's fastest section, you'll be facing the sterns of magnificent yachts whose international owners have purchased the right, at great expense, to back onto the race course. Just prior to that, following the left turn at Casino Square and a downhill plunge past the Hotel Mirabeau, the cars race through a curving tunnel at over 140 mph, going from bright sun to deep shadow and out into the sun again, reaching 174 mph before the tight right-hander around the swimming pool.
The first Monaco Grand Prix was held on the 14th of April 1929. La Vie Automobile wrote, "it goes without saying that the track is made up entirely of ends, steep uphill climbs and fast downhill runs. Any respectable traffic system would have covered the track with 'Danger' sign posts left, right and centre."
The Monaco Grand Prix is, in spite of the tight turns, a dangerous place to race. It is also the only race I know of where a competitor, Alberto Ascari, spun off the track and into the harbour. He was rescued from his Ferrari unhurt but wet.
I've attended the Monaco Grand Prix twice, on the second occasion as guest of a wealthy Calgary oil man. We stayed in a rented villa some forty miles out of town and traveled to the circuit on race day by train. How many tracks can offer that opportunity, as opposed to hours of sweaty in-vehicle lineups? Our seats faced those fabled yachts and no prudish gate attendant would dare have prevented us from enjoying the fine French wine we brought along to go with our exotic picnic lunch. Everyone else had done the same.
When the 2004 Monaco Grand Prix is run on Sunday I won't be there. I won't even watch the race live on TV, because 5:00 AM Pacific time is a bit early for someone of my advancing years. I'll tape the race and play it back in the morning, coffee mug at hand, blinds closed to the blessed sunshine. When the cameras pan over the harbour I will recall the beauty of the setting; when they zoom in on the yachts I might even be a little envious.
But when the race begins (from a standing start, like all GPs), even knowing that he who enters the first turn first has the best chance of winning, I'll be on the edge of my seat, living every moment. The long, drawn-out hours of the Indy and Daytona races, not even the drama of 24 high-speed hours at LeMans, can't begin to compare. Monaco is truly the crême de la crême of motor racing.
