It has nothing to do with luck...........

The feeling of satisfaction lasted from the moment Lewis Hamilton passed Toyota's Timo Glock as they entered the pit straight, to the ‘cut away’ featuring the look of horror on the faces of the Ferrari pit crew as they realised that ‘time’ had been called at the bar.

Yes, like millions of others I too had been gripped by the unfolding drama from Interlagos. After a day in the garden, a necessary part of my post match recovery strategy, I sat down in front of a roaring log fire to watch the last few laps of the 2008 Grand Prix season.

Hamilton's success was secure in my thoughts for perhaps ten seconds and then the event came sharply into focus. Conspiracy theorists will no doubt argue, that with millions of pounds riding on the result, a quick sprint down the pit lane, from the Maclaren Garage to Toyota’s, with a chunky ‘brown envelope’ might just have resulted in Glock taking on the persona of Thora Hird for the last lap, culminating in, ‘your father has moved the pedals again’…..(Last of the Summer Wine)

But then perhaps it was no more than….rain, wet track, one car on dry tyres…..last lap, Glock ahead of Hamilton by 18 seconds…oops, ‘I can’t keep it going in a straight line’……Maclaren’s computer calculates a last corner overtaking manoeuvre that results in the Championship being won…….easy.

The diminutive Hamilton rose from his car to be ‘crowned’ World Champion and for some unknown reason my mind flashed back to distant memories of the ‘Farnham Flyer’.

Mike Hawthorn was the first British World Motor Racing Champion. He won the 1958 Formula One Championship despite winning only the French Grand Prix that season, against the four wins of Stirling Moss.

Hawthorn was born to race. His father had bought a garage in Farnham, just down the road from Aldershot, to be close to the Brooklands Circuit. And after his father was killed in a road accident Mike took on the management of The Tourist Trophy Garage.

He was big, well over six feet tall (188cms), blond and endearingly boisterous. His trade marks a broad grin and a bow tie that led the French to nickname him Le Papillon.

The 1958 Championship was decided, just like this season, by the narrowest of margins. The second place points secured in the Stewards Room at Porto, where Hawthorn had been disqualified for pushing his Ferrari, against the rules, were enough to consign Stirling Moss in the Vanwall to a lifetime of, ‘near, oh so near’.

The passing of time has done nothing to improve standards of behaviour, honesty and integrity. The myopic drive for success has destroyed the world that gave us the intervention of Stirling Moss on August 24th 1958.

If Moss had visited the same optician as Arsene Wenger then it would have been ‘his year’. As it was he interceded on Hawthorn’s behalf, the podium finish was restored and the Championship decided by one point.

Hawthorn loved life, drove fast, retired at the end of the 1958 season and died young.

On 22nd January 1959, at the age of 29, Mike Hawthorn was killed on the A3 Guildford bypass. What happened that day is still a mystery – driver error, mechanical failure, high speed, bad weather, impulsiveness, competitiveness……Hawthorn’s Jaguar 3.4-litre was nicknamed ‘the Merceater’….was he racing Rob Walker’s 300SL Mercedes on that fateful day?

But whatever the cause, it was not bad luck…..

And for me, just boyhood memories of my Dad ‘slowing down’ in our Standard Eight, so that we could get a good look at the Ferraris and Jaguars parked outside The Tourist Trophy Garage.

Aldershot Town made the long trip north to Morecambe last Saturday and suffered their eighth straight away defeat.

A missed penalty, poor finishing, sloppy defending and 'bad luck' all conspired to ensure that the Shots left Christie Park without a point.

Gary Waddock must sharpen up pretty quick, as success in life is determined by behaviour and not luck……