1988 F1 Season !!better!! Instant

After the race, Senna didn't speak to the press. He sat in the garage, still in his firesuit, staring at the wrecked MP4/4. Prost walked by, sipping water. "Unlucky, Ayrton," he said softly. It was not a comfort. It was a reminder.

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. 1988 f1 season

The race was a downpour. Senna danced on the knife-edge, spraying rooster tails of water, lapping everyone up to third place. He was a ghost in the rain. Then, with ten laps to go, he caught the back of the Williams of Nigel Mansell. Mansell, fighting for his career, didn't yield. Senna tried a daring move around the outside of the swimming pool chicane. The rear tires kissed the wet white line. The McLaren pirouetted into the barrier. After the race, Senna didn't speak to the press

"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." "Unlucky, Ayrton," he said softly

On lap 28, approaching the same chicane, Senna did not brake. He dove down the inside, a lunge from half a car length back. Prost, seeing the move, did something uncharacteristic: he flinched. He turned in late. Senna slid past, his right front wheel barely missing Prost's left rear. It was the overtake of the decade.

Senna sat in the gravel, engine dead. Then, impossibly, marshals appeared. They pushed him. The engine caught. He rejoined the track dead last, 20 seconds behind.