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Eddie Jordan's send-off was a reminder that life in sport is so noble that it's harrowing when it's taken away, writes OLIVER HOLT
Eddie Jordan's send-off was a reminder that life in sport is so noble that it's harrowing when it's taken away, writes OLIVER HOLT

Daily Mail​

time07-07-2025

  • Entertainment
  • Daily Mail​

Eddie Jordan's send-off was a reminder that life in sport is so noble that it's harrowing when it's taken away, writes OLIVER HOLT

There was a memorial service to celebrate the life of Eddie Jordan at Westminster Central Hall on Monday. It was riotous, just as Eddie's life was. When his widow, Marie, spotted a friend beginning to cry when they met before the start, she scolded him gently. It was not to be that sort of occasion. Nor was it. Eddie's was a life well lived, a life that was cut short too soon, but a life that had given him love, children, grandchildren, happiness, success and a rock-star lifestyle in Formula One. A thousand people and more who loved him celebrated all that he was when they flocked to this cavernous venue. And as the service came to an end, Eddie's old Silverstone band, Eddie and the Robbers, were joined on stage by Rick Astley, Genesis guitarist Mike Rutherford, performers from Michael Flatley 's Lord of the Dance and a cohort of clapping, stamping F1 drivers, among their number Damon Hill, Mika Hakkinen, Martin Donnelly, David Coulthard, Johnny Herbert, Martin Brundle and Eddie Irvine. As they clapped and cheered, footage on the big screen behind them showed Jordan jumping off the pit wall at Spa in 1998 and skipping joyously down the pit lane in the aftermath of Damon Hill's victory in the Belgian Grand Prix, the first triumph for Jordan Grand Prix, the day the sport's great disruptor entered the pantheon of its greats. The day after Lando Norris won the British Grand Prix for McLaren and huge crowds swelled the stands at the old aerodrome at Silverstone, everything seeming to confirm that the sport is in rude health, it was worth remembering that today's heroes stand on the shoulders of giants like Jordan. After the service, we all went down to the Lecture Hall and Library and savoured the joy of seeing old friends and resolving to meet again soon and recapture those days of the 1980s and '90s that were at the heart of the youth of many of us, swapping stories about Eddie. Mine are only fond. Like many, I will always feel I owe him a debt because he, and friends of his like his commercial director, Ian Phillips, were welcoming and friendly to me when I came into the sport in the early 90s and introduced me to people who I might never have met otherwise. It was Eddie who egged me on, with indecent glee, to do a bungee jump at the Indianapolis 500 in 1993. He told the story ever after of how petrified and inelegant I looked — and was — as I plunged off the platform. It was the first and last time I ever did a bungee jump. It would not have happened without him. I remember how amused he was when Bob McKenzie, from the Daily Express, and I offered to take him and Phillips to dinner at a fancy restaurant called Le Roannay in Francorchamps during another Belgian Grand Prix weekend. As the night wore on and the wine flowed, he invited Flavio Briatore and Bernie Ecclestone over and the night got better and better, Flavio ordering the best grappas the restaurant served. They had to wake Bob and I at the end of the night when everyone else had gone — and then we saw the bill. I swapped a few messages with Eddie a couple of years before he died in March this year at the age of 76, and he was still laughing about that night. 'Reminds me of Spa when da journos PAID,' he wrote and I could hear him laughing. He was still full of mischief. Not too long ago, he gave me some information about a deal he thought was happening in F1 and was delighted when we ran it. 'U did brilliant to run da story,' he wrote. 'Bravo.' Bob was there on Monday, of course, and Ian, with a few genuine rock stars, a lot of grandchildren and many of the drivers who drove for him. There were a lot of songs and a lot of reminiscences of a man who, as Hill had said recently, 'had the energy of a nuclear power station'. There were plenty of readings, too. His daughter, Zoe, read beautifully. It was one of the only solemn parts of the afternoon. She recited A E Housman's poem To an Athlete Dying Young. 'Now you will not swell the rout,' she read, 'Of lads that wore their honours out, Runners whom renown outran, And the name died before the man.' I thought then of sport and loss and of Diogo Jota, a young man, humble and amiable, a loving husband, father, son, brother, champion, footballer and friend, taken so, so early, and of the terrible tragedy of a full life like Eddie's that was snatched away from Jota in an instant. There is something so noble and vital about a life in sport, a life that represents vigour, youth and triumph, that the loss of men and women in the arena, men and women who have lived our dreams and given us so much, seems even harder to bear. 'The time you won your town the race,' Housman's poem begins, 'We chaired you through the market-place, Man and boy stood cheering by, And home we brought you shoulder-high. 'Today, the road all runners come, Shoulder-high we bring you home, And set you at your threshold down, Townsman of a stiller town.' What a strange coincidence Even limited exposure to elements of the Premier League is enough to make a cynic out of a saint. If it were not enough that Arsenal should have continued to pick Thomas Partey for nearly three years knowing he faced allegations of rape, what a strange coincidence that the player should be charged three days after the expiry of his Arsenal contract. The brain glitches with tech errors One of the problems with technology in sport is that officials are so in thrall to it that it steals away their common sense and ability to exercise judgment. When Britain's Sonay Kartal hit a backhand that was clearly long at a crucial juncture of her match against Anastasia Pavlyuchenkova on Sunday, chair umpire Nico Helwerth ordered the point to be replayed when it became apparent the line-calling system had been inadvertently switched off. Pavlyuchenkova was, rightly, livid and the authorities are fortunate that she went on to win the match. The issue is that the shot was several inches out. It wasn't even close to clipping the line. If Helwerth had called it as he saw it, there would not have been a problem. But when technology glitches, the human brain appears to glitch with it.

Hill review — the moment Damon found out my dad had died in a plane crash
Hill review — the moment Damon found out my dad had died in a plane crash

Times

time03-07-2025

  • Entertainment
  • Times

Hill review — the moment Damon found out my dad had died in a plane crash

In an era of big Formula 1 personalities — Prost, Senna, Schumacher — Damon Hill often seemed to have the most troubled air about him. Watch the new film Hill (Sky Documentaries/Now) and you'll find out why. When his wife, Georgie, says, right near the start, 'He was one of the saddest people I've met in my life', it's clear this is going to be a film that does what all the best sports documentaries do: find the human story, the deeper psychology behind the sporting glory. So while, as an account of an underdog's rise through the F1 ranks, this has all the gripping intensity that made Netflix's Drive to Survive such a hit, the film goes further. There are constant reminders that this was a man trying to escape the shadow of his beloved father, Graham Hill, who, as anyone with a longer memory of the sport will tell you, was killed in tragic circumstances. That was in 1975, when Damon was 15, and he'd spend the next two decades defined by the shadow of his father. 'If your dad is the star of the show, then who are you?' he says. Yet rising above it all, an inspiring point emerges about the value of determination: Damon's was very much inherited from his father. Graham was a two-time world champion with something of the dashing matinee star about him (albeit with a hint of Terry-Thomas in that moustache). His son was in awe of him. 'It was almost like the house came alive when he came back,' he says. There's an awful irony in the fact it was only after Graham retired from the lethal world of F1 — much to the relief of his family — that the worst news came. Damon recalls how one evening, 'I was watching TV with my younger sister. We were expecting Dad home, my mum is in the kitchen and then … 'We interrupt this programme with a newsflash …'' I suppose there is no right way to hear the news that your father has been killed in a plane crash. Damon shares vivid details of his feelings in that moment. 'I remember a kind of wave of heat coming up through my legs and into my face and I remember clocking what this meant — not being sure, but being terrified.' Home video footage and news clips combine, images of Graham fracturing and fading in haunting style. Damon and Georgie offer to-camera interviews that initially may suggest a generic approach compared with, say, the film Senna, where the absence of talking heads added to its power. Yet seeing the subjects helps us to feel closer to them then and now: Damon a trim, silver-haired figure; Georgie a shrewd, likeable presence who offers revealing perspectives on her husband's (formerly) rather tortured soul. As a driver, Damon wanted to prove people wrong, a sentiment that leads the way through the film's account of his rise through F1. There's a certain spikiness in his memories of feeling undermined, at times, by Williams bosses (when, for example, Nigel Mansell was brought back into the fold in 1995), and his clashes with Michael Schumacher. Generally it's believed that in the final race of 1994 Schumacher steered into Damon, putting them both out of the race and securing the German the world championship by a point. Then there is the remarkable central section where Hill becomes a kind of companion film to Senna: we hear fresh perspectives on Ayrton Senna's fatal crash in 1994, including Georgie's recollection of how he talked to her right before he climbed into his ill-fated car, giving her reassuring remarks about Damon. Damon talks of not wanting to go to Senna's funeral, just as his father hadn't wanted to go to his great friend and fellow driver Jim Clark's. It was Jackie Stewart who advised Damon: 'You'll regret it for the rest of your life if you don't go.' So he went. His last funeral had been his dad's; now he was a pallbearer at Senna's. Later that year, at the Japanese Grand Prix, Damon felt something transcendent when his hands on the wheel seemed to become not his own: 'I just felt like I'd been visited by some sort of spirit.' Such candour is effective, so that when the film reaches its climax at the end of the 1996 season, you find yourself invested in the emotional release of his eventual victory. Damon Hill's life had 'fallen to pieces' in 1975, but through sheer determination, 20 years later he'd 'put it back together again'. It's sport as catharsis, and really quite moving. ★★★★★

How family tragedy drove unlikely Formula 1 star Damon Hill to victory... CHRISTOPHER STEVENS reviews Hill
How family tragedy drove unlikely Formula 1 star Damon Hill to victory... CHRISTOPHER STEVENS reviews Hill

Daily Mail​

time02-07-2025

  • Automotive
  • Daily Mail​

How family tragedy drove unlikely Formula 1 star Damon Hill to victory... CHRISTOPHER STEVENS reviews Hill

Murray Walker, the greatest of all commentators, was not often lost for words. But emotion got the better of him as Damon Hill claimed the F1 World Championship in 1996. 'And, I've got to stop,' Murray growled hoarsely, 'because I've got a lump in my throat.' His unmistakable voice, like the scream of a 500hp turbo- engine, seemed to have grit in the gearbox. Hill's victory was especially significant for the sport because he was the son of another Formula 1 world champion, the swashbuckling Graham Hill, who died in a plane crash along with five members of his team in 1975. Throughout the documentary Hill, charting Damon's career in motor-racing, his father's ebullient personality was ever-present as a sort of background roar, like the sound of a high-performance car. Snatches of home video were intercut with archive news footage. In one snippet, Bruce Forsyth chatted to Graham at Brands Hatch. The two men could have been -brothers - the same long nose and jutting chin, not to mention the pencil moustaches. An adolescent Damon lurked shyly beside his dad. 'Say something,' urged Brucie. 'Something,' whispered the boy. Snatches of home video are intercut with archive news footage and F1 racing scenes 'He's not like you, he can't chat as much!' chortled Bruce, elbowing Graham. That moment epitomised Damon's relationship with his father's memory. 'I didn't want to be pushed into the limelight,' he mused. 'If your dad is the star of the show, then who are you?' An introspective man - his wife, Georgie, calls him, 'one of the saddest people I'd ever come across in my life' - Hill Jnr insisted at the start of this affecting and melancholy film that he 'never wanted to become a racing driver'. But he also felt compelled to compete and win, in tribute to his father. Gradually, it became clear why Hill always seemed so unlike other drivers. A devoted father and husband, he couldn't have been more different from the roguish, womanising James Hunt - a man who once staggered into the paddock still half-drunk from a wild one-night stand, and proceeded to break lap records on his way to the podium. Damon had none of Michael Schumacher's arrogance, Alain Prost's confidence or Ayrton Senna's supernatural aura. Even his team bosses seemed to take his self-deprecating jokes at face value: they sacked him when he was leading the championship. But what emerged from this sensitive film, written and directed by Alex Holmes, was the portrait of a spiritual man who was deeply traumatised by loss. He was 15 when a TV bulletin broke the news of his father's death. He had to tell his mother, who collapsed. Financial ruin for the family followed. For F1 fans, the race footage was gripping, while the candid shots of drivers and mechanics behind the scenes were revealing.

Hill review — the cathartic power of sport drives this moving F1 documentary
Hill review — the cathartic power of sport drives this moving F1 documentary

Times

time02-07-2025

  • Entertainment
  • Times

Hill review — the cathartic power of sport drives this moving F1 documentary

In an era of big Formula 1 personalities — Prost, Senna, Schumacher — Damon Hill often seemed to have the most troubled air about him. Watch the new film Hill (Sky Documentaries/Now) and you'll find out why. When his wife, Georgie, says, right near the start, 'He was one of the saddest people I've met in my life', it's clear this is going to be a film that does what all the best sports documentaries do: find the human story, the deeper psychology behind the sporting glory. So while, as an account of an underdog's rise through the F1 ranks, this has all the gripping intensity that made Netflix's Drive to Survive such a hit, the film goes further. There are constant reminders that this was a man trying to escape the shadow of his beloved father, Graham Hill, who, as anyone with a longer memory of the sport will tell you, was killed in tragic circumstances. That was in 1975, when Damon was 15, and he'd spend the next two decades defined by the shadow of his father. 'If your dad is the star of the show, then who are you?' he says. Yet rising above it all, an inspiring point emerges about the value of determination: Damon's was very much inherited from his father. Graham was a two-time world champion with something of the dashing matinee star about him (albeit with a hint of Terry-Thomas in that moustache). His son was in awe of him. 'It was almost like the house came alive when he came back,' he says. There's an awful irony in the fact it was only after Graham retired from the lethal world of F1 — much to the relief of his family — that the worst news came. • Read more TV reviews, guides about what to watch and interviews Damon recalls how one evening, 'I was watching TV with my younger sister. We were expecting Dad home, my mum is in the kitchen and then … 'We interrupt this programme with a newsflash …'' I suppose there is no right way to hear the news that your father has been killed in a plane crash. Damon shares vivid details of his feelings in that moment. 'I remember a kind of wave of heat coming up through my legs and into my face and I remember clocking what this meant — not being sure, but being terrified.' Home video footage and news clips combine, images of Graham fracturing and fading in haunting style. Damon and Georgie offer to-camera interviews that initially may suggest a generic approach compared with, say, the film Senna, where the absence of talking heads added to its power. Yet seeing the subjects helps us to feel closer to them then and now: Damon a trim, silver-haired figure; Georgie a shrewd, likeable presence who offers revealing perspectives on her husband's (formerly) rather tortured soul. As a driver, Damon wanted to prove people wrong, a sentiment that leads the way through the film's account of his rise through F1. There's a certain spikiness in his memories of feeling undermined, at times, by Williams bosses (when, for example, Nigel Mansell was brought back into the fold in 1995), and his clashes with Michael Schumacher. Generally it's believed that in the final race of 1994 Schumacher steered into Damon, putting them both out of the race and securing the German the world championship by a point. • Ayrton Senna: the Netflix drama, the album … and the skyscraper Then there is the remarkable central section where Hill becomes a kind of companion film to Senna: we hear fresh perspectives on Ayrton Senna's fatal crash in 1994, including Georgie's recollection of how he talked to her right before he climbed into his ill-fated car, giving her reassuring remarks about Damon. Damon talks of not wanting to go to Senna's funeral, just as his father hadn't wanted to go to his great friend and fellow driver Jim Clark's. It was Jackie Stewart who advised Damon: 'You'll regret it for the rest of your life if you don't go.' So he went. His last funeral had been his dad's; now he was a pallbearer at Senna's. Later that year, at the Japanese Grand Prix, Damon felt something transcendent when his hands on the wheel seemed to become not his own: 'I just felt like I'd been visited by some sort of spirit.' Such candour is effective, so that when the film reaches its climax at the end of the 1996 season, you find yourself invested in the emotional release of his eventual victory. Damon Hill's life had 'fallen to pieces' in 1975, but through sheer determination, 20 years later he'd 'put it back together again'. It's sport as catharsis, and really quite moving.★★★★★ Love TV? Discover the best shows on Netflix, the best Prime Video TV shows, the best Disney+ shows , the best Apple TV+ shows, the best shows on BBC iPlayer, the best shows on Sky and Now, the best shows on ITVX, the best shows on Channel 4 streaming, the best shows on Paramount+ and our favourite hidden gem TV shows. Don't forget to check our critics' choices to watch and browse our comprehensive TV guide

Damon Hill admits Michael Schumacher collision that denied him the 1994 F1 world championship 'still cuts deep'
Damon Hill admits Michael Schumacher collision that denied him the 1994 F1 world championship 'still cuts deep'

Daily Mail​

time02-07-2025

  • Sport
  • Daily Mail​

Damon Hill admits Michael Schumacher collision that denied him the 1994 F1 world championship 'still cuts deep'

Formula One legend Damon Hill has admitted that the manner in which he lost the 1994 driver's championship to Michael Schumacher 'still cuts deep'. The Brit battled the then-rising Benetton star during an emotionally fraught season that began with the death of Ayrton Senna following a high-speed crash at the San Marino Grand Prix. Ahead of the finale, Schumacher and Hill were separated by a single point and for a moment in Adelaide it looked as though the Brit would snatch the title from the German. But, with precious few laps of the race remaining, with Hill threatening to overtake as Schumacher returned the track after hitting the wall, the future five-time world champion steered into his opponents' Williams, ending both of their races and securing him his maiden title. Thirty-one years later, and despite winning the driver's championship in 1996, Hill has admitted that the incident it still difficult accept. 'I never really got it out of my system,' he told the Mirror. 'Sure, it teed up other battles nicely and later I crashed into him a few times - always by mistake, there was no revenge intended. It had been a tragic year with the loss of Ayrton, so 1994 was full-on drama, but the way it ended still annoys people. 'I wasn't expected to be in that situation, and we had a good fight for the title, but the way it was settled still cuts deep.' Hill's 1996 triumph entered him into one of the most exclusive groups in world sport, while his victory at the British GP in 1994, means he is one of only 12 British drivers to claim victory at the event. But the most private club, he shares with his dad Graham, as well as Keke and Nice Rosberg as the only father-son pairings to both win the world championship. Ahead of this weekend's Grand Prix at Silverstone, Hill tipped McLaren's Lando Norris to follow up his win in Austria with another in front of the home fans in Northamptonshire. 'If I had to stick my neck out at Silverstone, it's got to be Lando,' added Hill. 'It feels like this is his time, I'm sure he'll be desperate to win it.'

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