On the day Brawn GP’s intention to tempt seven-time Formula One world champion Michael Schumacher out of retirement was revealed, the wisdom of great sportsmen to reach out and dust off those old gloves, those boots or, indeed, that helmet which accompanied such adulation and success in their prime, must surely be questioned.
Earlier this year the media frenzy surrounding Schumacher’s near-return for Ferrari, in place of the injured Felipe Massa after the latter’s career-threatening crash at the Hungarian Grand Prix, generated such hype and fervour that few could argue against the marketability of the racing legend. A back injury sustained in a prior motorcycle accident put paid to the return, however the status of one of sports true modern greats was apparently reaffirmed and duly noted by German motoring giant Mercedes and Schumacher’s long-time collaborator at Benetton and Ferrari, Ross Brawn. Jenson Button’s departure to create a back-to-back world championship dream team with Lewis Hamilton at McLaren has left a void which Schumacher appears ready to fill. The question this poses is not, however, Schumacher’s driving ability or appeal. Even at the ripe old age of 40, Schumacher’s skill and nous behind the wheel would be more than the equal of many a younger driver. Instead, it is one of legacy, sporting mythology and bowing out through choice, not necessity.
Muhammed Ali is possibly the best known and relevant example of a sporting great continuing a career past such a time where the stratospheric standards set by a total dominance of their given medium, simply cannot be achieved. In his final fights, Ali lost to such fighters as Larry Holmes and Trevor Berbick, pugilists of some talent yet not of the same calibre as a Liston, a Frazier, a Foreman – all of whom simply could not live with the ‘Greatest of All Time’. We now see a man ravaged by Parkinsons Disease, by general consensus the result of not heeding medical advice and retiring before it was too late. Within boxing a trend appears to form whereby men who have spent their lives in the gym and in the ring, seem reluctant, if not afraid, to admit their time is up.
A notable exception to this rule comes in the form of Joe Calzaghe. Retiring after defeating all comers in a career spanning 46 fights, producing 46 wins with 32 by way of knock-out, Calzaghe bowed out a true champion making no noises (thus far) of any possible return between the ropes. Calzaghe, for me, is one of boxing’s great champions, one to rival such middleweight idols as Hagler, Leonard and Hearns. My view of him is enhanced by not seeing him, aged and failing to live up to his younger self, climbing into a ring to kickstart the career of a younger fighter such as Carl Froch. A contemporary of Calzaghe’s, Ricky Hatton, appears not to be aware of making the same mistakes as many a brawler before him, this week declaring (whilst looking incredibly bloated and unwell) his desire and “hunger” to return. We can only hope his decision does not return to haunt him in years to come.
Footballers have often resisted the temptation to continue past their peak with such luminaries of the game as Michel Platini, Eric Cantona and George Best retiring from the game, somewhat unexpectedly, in what many perceived to be the midst of the most productive and impressive years of their careers. Best, of course, made an ill-fated return with Fulham in 1976 after retiring from Manchester United in ‘74 and, having lost the pace for which he was once revered, lasted barely a year before shipping off to the money in the newly formed North American Soccer League. These players, Cantona especially having featured heavily in my football-watching lifetime, with early retirement seem to adopt an almost impenetrable aura which inflates the sense of champion they acquired as players. I’m reminded of the goals he scored, the sheer audacity of his nonchalant control and effortless lobs from outside of the box, with even his notorious kung-fu kick on a neanderthol at Crystal Palace seemingly adding to the mystique of the man. I do not remember him, being substituted at half time in a make-or-break match for being off the pace, old, or out of shape.
The common factor between Cantona and Calzaghe is that when they had achieved all they desired in their given sport, they were strong enough and honourable enough to walk away, leaving nothing but reputation and memories to be eulogised ad infinitum. These men will never be vilified in the press because ‘his legs have gone’.
Michael Schumacher, up until now, has found this status amongst sporting gods. His ruthless duels with Damon Hill, his infamous fight with Nigel Mansell, the seven world titles in a peerless reign of dominance, all part of a narrative to draw alongside and overtake the ghosts of racing past: Moss, Stewart, Senna, Lauder, Prost. If he returns to a team less competitive than the Ferraris he became accustomed to and who could only get this years world champion on the podium once in the second half of a title-winning season, how will he fare? For all the ability and skill he may or may not still possess, if the car ain’t fast, the car ain’t fast. Worse than that however, is if he makes a return to a potential podium challenging vehicle and can’t cut it. What if the few years spent as a guest on Ferrari’s pit wall, testing F1 prototypes and spending time with his young family have dulled the reactions, reduced the insatiable will to win at all costs, or simply reduced the willingness to take the risks involved when accelerating to 150mph directly towards a tyre wall? In either of these scenarios, the aura will be cracked. The myth a little less believable. The memories updated with pictures of a frustrated man, replacing those of the omnipotent deity.
Instinct tells me that there is no smoke without fire. I fully expect to witness one of the most heralded returns in the history of all sport and maybe this is what makes him a true sporting great; the willingness to take the risks others wouldn’t and the passion to succeed others can only dream of.
However the doubt remains that, above all else, Michael Schumacher is gambling with nothing but his own legacy.
Good Evening
