NIKI LAUDA A life less ordinary

THIS WAS JUST THE KIND of brief that I’d got into motorsport for. Early on in 2001, Niki Lauda had been parachuted into the underperforming Jaguar Formula 1 set-up as team principal, as tensions mounted between its owners, Ford, and the outfit that had been winning races as Stewart Grand Prix just a season and a half earlier.

Given that I was working for the team, keeping its jaguar-racing.com website updated, it was only logical that I would be sent off to speak to the new boss to gather his thoughts and aspirations for his new role. It was my first job in the sport I’d loved since I was a child, and I’d already had the opportunity to spend time with people like Johnny Herbert (lovely and helpful), Eddie Irvine (difficult) and Sir Jackie Stewart, who’d sold his team to Ford but remained in an advisory role.

But going to interview Lauda was in a different league. This was someone who, when I was growing up, was not just one of the most instantly recognisable drivers on the planet, but in the whole of sport, or in fact, one of the most recognisable people in the world full stop.