Alonso makes it three in a row!

Fiery Fernando held up three fingers to the on-board camera,signifying his third straight victory, and then gave a thumbs up to a jubliant Michael Schumacher, a man who had more than shown his mettle in a race that was filled with as much ups and downs as does the slippy, hilly Imola track itself. In the end, it was a Renault, a Ferrari and a BAR Honda on the podium.

Starting the race at P2, Alonso stepped up to the lead after the unlucky race leader Kimi Raikonnen slipped out during lap eight owing to a mechanical failure. From there on, there was no stopping Alonso as he sped to the podium. Fending off a Scuderia scare during the last twelve laps from the German great Michael Schumacher, Alonso proved once again that he is not just a pretending contender to the top slot, but the crown prince to the Formula One fiefdom.

The race might have belonged to Alonso, but my applauds would go to another man. A man whohas done more than merely stamp his name on the Formula One hall of fame. Starting from 13th position after a poor second qualifying, very few people expected the German ace to stand on the podium. But an inspired Schumacher with ace strategist Ross Brawn made it possible for the Scuderia's to ensure that their Tifosi did not go home empty handed at the most important racing juncture for the Ferrari's. Between lap 30 and lap 40, Michael Schumacher gained at a rate of almost two seconds a lap, reducing the 21 second gap between him and Jensen Button, the BAR driver who eventually finished third, and then going on to take race leader Alonso to a nail-biting finish, one where the first two cars were just 0.215 seconds apart at the end.

Almost thirty thousand Tifosi thronged the Enzo e Dino Circuit at Imola, a circuit that is just an hour away from Maranello and Mugello, the locations of the Ferrari factory and testing circuit. And the chequered flag interlaced with the prancing horse flew higher and higher and the roar of the Tifosi grew louder and louder with each lap that Michael Schumacher gained on. And a superb second pitstop made it possible for the German to quicken up and catch the tail lights of Alonso the race leader, a man whose car was almost 40 seconds ahead of his own during the first round of pit-stops. From there on, Alonso made sure that Schumacher's quest for a sixth victory at Imola would be kept at bay for twelve more months. In a superb show, Alonso managed to keep the seven-time world champion at bay, even giving the veteran a few defensive lessons at times.Fernando's driving was so sublime that it managed to bring a smile on the nervous face of Flavio Briatore, the Renault team principal, inspite of the fact that the red dot on Alonso's rear-view mirror kept coming closer and closer with each passing lap.

Among the others, Alexander Wurz salvaged some pride, coming fourth for McLaren. Takuma Sato completed a good weekend for BAR Honda, grabing five points. A revitalised Villeneuve backed up by clevar thinking from the Sauber pit came in sixth, ahead of the tottering Toyota's of Trulli and Schumacher Jnr. Massa found himself in an awkward position, getting caught in traffic and coming in far behind his usually flummoxed partner Villeneuve. The Williams' drivers Heidfeld and Webber were caught in a fight of their own, Heidfeld managing to catch up with his team mate Webber and pass him. Liuzzi, the fresh driver from the Red-Bull stables blew off team mate David Coulthard. Coulthard had to settle for thirteenth place after a determined Massa shouldered him for twelveth position.

As for the Jordan's, Narain Karthikeyan proved once again that he was the most impressive rookie of the lot, setting the twelveth fastest lap and giving David Coulthard a scare. Narain eventually came in 14th. Tiego Monteiro ruefully followed his team mate to the finish, coming in fifteenth. As for the new look Minardi's, they couldnt salvage anything for a race, their new look PS05 failing to impress even their own drivers.

Overall, a great start to the European leg of the season and one of the most competitive races that i have seen in a long long time. With the coming of age of Alonso and the rejuvenation Ferrari, one can expect the competition to grow harder in the coming races.

Forecast for Catalunya :: Maranello thunders followed by heavy Scuderia style blood-rains that would leave the Tifosi intoxicated and the rest incarcerated!

Pearl

When i wrote this short story, i did not know whether to publish it or not. I was not very sure about it as i felt that this particular story was effusively sentimental. I sent it to a few friends who bear with my short stories and encourage me with their comments. And only since they felt that the story was good and should be published, i am publishing it. Thanks sangee,avi,pram,zillia & nanu.
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I walked down the rocky path. The sun was going down behind a haze of orange-pink puff of clouds. The sodium-vapor lamps were already lit, though it still was not all that dark. It was as if we in America lived in a time of peace and prosperity when every other country on earth was having a shortage for anything and everything.Europe was mired in a war that transformed the picturesque Paris and a dozen other great cities into piles of concrete trailer-park trash. Russia, which looms large over the European Continent appears to be nothing more than a starved scare-crow, one which is likely to be torched by one Mr.Hitler and his minions. Asian countries are nothing but a reflection of their European owners. Africa, at the moment, seemed to have been blackened off the map of the world by Rommel and his troops. We in America were sitting safe and sound and concentrating on our own industrialization drive.

I reached my favorite wooden bench, which i identified by the tall coconut tree which stood behind it. It was a tough spot to get to, especially if you were forty plus and had not exercised any other muscle in your body except those in your fingers (for typewriting) in the last fifteen years. I came here not because i was fond of climbing rocks, but because it gave me a breath-taking view of the bluish-green sea that lay stretched-out in front of me and the nice breeze that blew and made the tender coconut trees sway slightly.

I stretched out and set down the books on one side and unpacked the ration of bread that i had obtained from the military canteen. It had been a long day. I work as an accountant with the American army. And the evenings, i spent in this wooden bench, reading my favorite auhtors - Milton and Homer. I was looking forward to another evening with two of English literature's greatest doyens. I was half way through the third volume of Paradise regained. Somehow i could enjoy this particular epic better in this location because the calm seas and the swaying coconuts made me think i was in paradise.

At first, i did not notice the small boy in grey formless overalls come and sit next to me. When he jumped on to the wooden bench, i gave him a sideways look and a quick smile and returned back to my tome. I did not know the racial classifications in this part of the world. So going by his appearance, i thought he must be a red-indian. And these were poor people, people who had not had the strength to defend their lands when the Americans decided to use the strategic advantage of these small islands. Japan, i was told, is pretty close to these islands. So perhaps these people were descendents of the Japanese. I opened Milton and read on.

The boy looked sheepish and started staring at the bread packet that was lying opened on my side. After a few minutes i saw the boy staring at it and motioned him to help himself. He stuck out a tiny hand and grabbed a large piece of bread. I returned back to my book. When i looked back at the boy after a couple of minutes, the large bread had dissapeared and small pieces of bread were clinging to the boy's chin. He continued to stare at the bread. I was amused at the look on the boy's face and ashamed at his hunger. A hunger that had been brought upon them by my ruthless countrymen on these unsuspecting fisher-folk. I signalled him to take the entire ration with him. The boy's eyes did not leave my face as his eyes began bulging out and his thin straight lips stretched into a wide smile. He lifted the bread along with the wrapper and folded it carefully and lifted it as if it were the crown jewels. All this while, the boy's eyes did not leave my face. His eyes were so expressive. By this time, i had laid Milton to rest and was admiring the young chap in front of me.

He walked a little down the path. I watched his tiny feet make dents in the sand. He stopped abruptly, turned his head backwards toward me and started smiling and shaking his head as if asking me to follow him. I stood up, collected my belongings, and followed him.The boy walked furiously for the next hour and a half. I did not know where i was going, nor did i know the way back. All i knew was that we were climbing upwards. This i knew because i started feeling cold and attributed it to the altitude. Neverthless i decided to follow him for reasons that i have not fathomed till date.

The boy reached the entrance of a small cave and dissapeared inside it. Unsure of whether to follow him or not, i entered the cave. I could hear some faint whimpering. I searched for the boy, my eyes now aquainted with the darkness that had loomed. I spotted the boy with the aid of the shiny silver foil in which his bread was wrapped. I put a hand on his small shoulder and he guided me somewhere into the cave.

My shoes touched something soft and i stepped back out of instinct. The whimpering was coming from right below me. I could not see anything and i was afraid to put my hand down and feel whatever it was. I searched inside my pocket and tookout a matchbox. It took me sometime to light the match stick as my hands were trembling and my drenched fingers could not clasp the thin match stick. Finally, i lit one.

I was taken aback. The whimpering creature was an extrodinarily tired looking red-indian woman, and a pregnant one at that. I staggered back for a moment and the match went off from wind that was blowing out of some opening in the cave. When i lit the matchstick again, the woman's eyes met mine. I could see the pain in her eyes. The small boy was trying to move a small rock underneath her head to use it as a pillow.

I searched my pocket again and found my lighter, which i must have found at the first instance. I quickly took off my coat and poured the little gasoline from the lighter on it. I then grabbed a stick that was lying nearby and tied my coat on it. Lighting it, i struck it in one of the cracks on the lime-stone wall. The pressure was showing in the woman's eyes. Her eyes. It struck me that this small boy must be her first-born. The hazel colored expressive eyes were like finger-print. I knelt down and touched the woman's forehead. It was burning. For a moment i wondered if i could lift her and take her to the army camp. But i dismissed the idea since i knew that the baby was almost on its way.

After an hour of intensive labor, the baby came. It was stark white. I was taken aback and quickly concluded that it must have been the expedition of one of those boys from the hill-camp regiment. I cleaned the baby with the litte water that was there in my leather bottle. The woman had passed out and her voice had died down. And so had my fire. But i was afraid. The baby had not made a single cry. I tried to breathe into its mouth, but i felt the coldness. I concluded that it must be dead. Even viewing a woman in labor is tiresome beyond words. I felt my body reaching for the ground in an awkward fall.

I didnot know what exactly made me wake up. Was it the distant boom that shook the hill or was it the sound of some young voice crying? I shuffled and saw the baby lying before me, kicking with life and crying out loud. I was delighted and reached for the baby when the second explosion rattled the hill. Then a third came and then they came in such torrid succession that i lost count. I rushed out of the cave with the baby in hand and reached a hole the size of a man. I was standing somewhere in an opening which oversaw the other side of the hill. Beyond these hills lay the vast American army, which for reasons i could hardlly fathom was now in a state of utter chaos. A jet with a large red dot zipped down and released a torpedo which tore the hull of a navy ship. The very ship had been my home for quite sometime now. The baby started to cry again.

I clasped my chest and started praying. I prayed long and hard and i cried as i prayed. I knew not whether i prayed for the infinite mercy God had shown in bringing back the child to life, or for the souls of my comrades who had died by the thousands or for my own stunning survival,the chances for which would have been null had i been in that navy ship.

I christened her Pearl.

Fernando flies higher!

Fiery Fernando zoomed past the chequered flag just as the car radio crackled to life with the voice of a jubliant Briatore, one who was overjoyed that his young pilot had breached the unblemished chequered flag yet again. For Fernando, it was a perfect race from start to finish. The cool Spaniard set the brand new track at Sakhir International Circuit ablaze with a performance that stunned everybody but him and his team. For the Renault's know that they are the team to beat in 2005. And the confidence of the team reflected in the performance of the driver. In my view, i would compare this one performance of his to one of the numerous wins of Michael Schumacher in 2002 and 2004. One where he knew not where the rest of the pack were, except for the backmarkers, bettering his own performance with every succesive lap. Such was the performance of the Spaniard and such a victory infuses even more confidence into a team that has roared to victory in three consecutive races.

A brilliant show from the Toyota's, their drivers Trulli and Ralf coming in second and fourth respectively. The Toyota's, i have heard, have a habit of spending their way to the podium of any motorsport, and that seems to hold true for Formula One as well. It indeed is refreshing to see an Eastern team challenging the likes of Ferrari and BMW in a sport that still is essentially a European one.

A good race for Kimi, a racer whose chances are usually riddled with bullets called luck. Kimi in my opinion is a bright prospect to fill into the big boots of 'Macher the immaculate. If Kimi's race was good, then his fellow driver De La Rosa's drive was better. De La Rosa sure must have made the brows of a couple of team bosses rise. Taking out Button, Barichello and eventually Webber was a treat to watch. And the battle between Webber and Rosa was indeed an epic one. And Webber gave Rosa a tough run, putting his BMW just where the Spaniard so badly wanted to be before finally relenting on lap 55.

Barichello, a driver who had very limited knowledge about the mechanical beast he was controlling, showed that he was indeed a great driver by nursing the F2005, a car that was running on bald wheels to the finish. As for Schumacher, starting the race on the front grid must have been a good feeling, with the F2005 under him, a brand new machine, one touted by Todt as a race beater, one that would break the break-away success of the Renault's. But alas, lap 11 turn 10 must have given Jean Todt a mild heart ache, for it saw Schumacher plunge down the turn, instead of taking it smooth and on the left. A minute later, the seven time champion retired the race for good with a hydraulic problem, one that did not allow him to shift gears smoothly. Incidentally it was the first time in a staggering fifty-eight races that Michael Schumacher has retired with a mechanical failure. Kudos to the Ferrari's for having shown such discipline for such a long time.

Speaking of failures, mechanical mayhem ruled the tracks at Bahrain with as many as seven drivers failing to complete the race owing to such problems. THe bright Indian driver, Narain Karthikeyan, who showed much promise initially, taking out his team mate, a Minardi driver and the once great David Coulthard, all in one and a half laps stalled at the beggining of lap 2. The Red Bull also seems to have hit a temporary road block with one driver failing to start off the grid and the other having a paltry race.

All said and done, we have come to the end of what i would call the pheripheral races or races that were brought in as part of the globalization "drive", a move to convert the masses of Asia to the religion of Formula One. The formula one juggernaut now rolls into the the more familiar tracks of Europe. And Europe is home to some tracks which most drivers on the grid know like the back of their palms. And at Imola, the very heart of the holy land, one should not write off Todt, Schumacher and the rest of the Ferrari juggernaut. For this is the very place that the Ferrari's are most likely to come back and stage an assault on their competitors, even as Fernando Alonso and Renault would be looking to continue their domination and Toyota and McLaren would be planning to gate-crash their party!

Waiting for Imola, commemorating the 11th anniversary of the most loved driver in Formula One history, Ayrton Senna da Silva.