1988 F1 Season ((exclusive)) May 2026

The temple of speed. Ferrari's home. The tifosi wore black armbands for Enzo Ferrari, who had died just weeks before. A red car hadn't won all year. But the story was not the Ferraris. It was the pact.

The start was clean. Senna led into the first corner. Prost tucked behind, waiting, measuring. Lap 1, the Casio Triangle chicane. Senna braked later than physics should allow. Prost, caught off guard, understeered slightly and tapped Senna's rear wheel. The Brazilian's car snapped sideways, then spun into the gravel trap. Prost continued, his front wing askew. 1988 f1 season

"I mean survival," Prost said. "We are in the same car. If we take each other out, the title goes to…" he gestured vaguely, "…Gerhard Berger. Or God forbid, a Williams." The temple of speed

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. A red car hadn't won all year

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.

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