Maurice Hamilton previews the long-anticipated autobiography of ex-FIA Max Mosley
One of the pleasures of being a freelance writer is that no two days are the same. Routine is of your own making and work can arrive from the most unexpected of sources. Towards the end of 2013, I was asked by Max Mosley to check the accuracy of the motor sport references in his autobiography and use my archive to fill in one or two small gaps.
It was a role I accepted with relish, having known about Max since the start of his racing involvement, first as a driver and then as co-founder of the March team, and later as a journalist dealing with Mosley as President of the FIA. We did not always see eye-to-eye but that did not diminish either my respect for his sharp intellect or the pleasure of his company. I looked forward to learning more.
It soon became clear that, for once in my life, I had an advantage over Max; I had written a book before and he had not. Mosley was most receptive to suggestions about structure, so much so that he asked me to read the entire manuscript. If I had keenly anticipated the chapters on motor racing, then the remainder of such a multifaceted life would be something to savour.
The opening line of the first chapter sets the tone: "My parents, Oswald and Diana Mosley, were imprisoned shortly after my birth in 1940 under a wartime regulation that allowed the government to lock anyone up without the need for a trial." From there, the story moves through an extraordinary childhood in England, Ireland, France and Germany, followed by life at Oxford University, becoming a barrister and the discovery of motor racing. Which is where our sporting interest begins.
Mosley's epiphany as a wannabe racer came in 1968 when he was overtaken by Jochen Rindt, then the so-called King of Formula 2 and driving at a speed far beyond Max's reasonable but modest capability.
Abandoning the cockpit in an era of frequent tragedy, Mosley's career then took a turn that may have been safer in some respects but more perilous in others when he was behind the formation of March Engineering. The hand-to-mouth existence matches and probably exceeds anything experienced by the back of the F1 grid today (March, at least, were at the front, winning Grands Prix) and helps explain why Mosley understood the need for cost cutting during his presidency.
He also appreciated the value of governance, having seen it from the other side as, together with Bernie Ecclestone, Mosley represented the majority of F1 teams in a frequently tense and sometimes hilarious battle with FISA and its president, the blustering Jean-Marie Balestre. (Incidentally, while Max and Bernie may have been hand-in-glove three decades ago, the same could not be said in more recent times, judging by comments in the book.)
Mosley's story covers fascinating ground, ranging from Eddie Jordan paying his fine for a technical breach at Indianapolis in 2001 with dollar bills so old they were no longer legal tender, to the intense pressure associated with the aftermath of Imola 1994.
The subsequent search for improvements in motor sport safety unexpectedly led to tireless work (way beyond anything I had imagined) by Mosley when pushing through the Euro NCAP. Mosley describes how the motor industry fought against it initially but it is evident that the consequent raising of road safety standards brings a justifiable if unspoken sense of satisfaction far beyond anything else in a life that has been...different.
Mosley does not sidestep the cause and effect of what he describes as the "unprovoked attack" when the News of the World publicised an event in his private life and made false accusations. It is a powerful and honest account that forms the bedrock of Mosley's formidable campaign for the right to privacy and the need for greater responsibility from the press.
Journalistic integrity came up in a less contentious way when Max was in disagreement from time to time with the motor sport media over our interpretation of events. I will never concur with his handling of Indianapolis 2005 any more than he will appreciate my stance at the time in The Observer. But that does not prevent his right to an eloquent justification of his actions in the book. Equally, the hugely controversial issue of handing over F1's commercial rights to Bernie Ecclestone is described in a manner that somehow makes complete sense. It is typical of how, whether or not you agree with all of the narrative, it makes a truly compelling read.