Judgements on greatness are purely subjective and comparisons across eras near impossible given how much our world has changed. But for what it’s worth, Sir Stirling Moss will always be the best as far as I’m concerned.
Why? Those wearing Formula 1 blinkers would rightly point out that his career statistics fall well short of those achieved by his contemporary, ‘El Maestro’ Juan Manuel Fangio, and fellow Britons Jim Clark, Jackie Stewart and Nigel Mansell, never mind the phenomenon that is Lewis Hamilton. But greatness and ever-lasting class aren’t necessarily found in the record books. Moss was and always will be unique.
His death after a long illness at the age of 90 on 12 April – Easter Sunday – came almost 58 years after his racing career ended violently against a grass bank at Goodwood on 23 April 1962 – Easter Monday. Everything before that fateful day is part of motor racing folklore but, unusually for a sportsperson, the full and busy life that Stirling led after further enhanced what made him great, because the man he was transcended the monumental talent behind the wheel.
He carried his quiet charisma, humility and wickedly sharp, schoolboy sense of humour wherever he was invited (which was everywhere). Naturally shy he might have been, but Moss was always the focus of any room he entered, no matter who else was there, because everyone knew: here was the embodiment of sporting greatness. Here was Mr Motor Racing himself.
A sportsman with style
It wasn’t just what and how often Stirling Moss won – 212 victories from 529 races, not including sprints, hillclimbs or speed record attempts, which is one hell of a strike rate – but also his sense of style, grace and unquestioning sense of fair play. Akin to Pelé, George Best and Muhammad Ali, Moss was an artist at his peak, with that laid-back, straight-armed pose and ubiquitous Herbert Johnson helmet creating an unmistakable profile.
Like all the sporting greats, Moss appeared to have more time than others – which is perhaps why he was able to wave to the adoring public even when driving on the limit. “They expect it, boy,” he would say. This was a true gentleman driver in every sense (apart from the one used to politely describe someone who is slow).
As tough as they come
As a professional, Moss was far ahead of his time in terms of attitude and approach. Ever mindful of his own self-worth, he raced to make a living, and that meant racing pretty much every weekend. If he wasn’t driving, he wasn’t earning, which is partly why Moss drove so much – Cooper and Kieft, HWM and BRM, Jaguar and Aston Martin, Maserati and Mercedes-Benz, Lotus and Vanwall, Ferrari and Sunbeam and on and on. But his astonishing versatility was also driven by a sense of adventure and technical curiosity. The 205th of his 212 wins, in September 1961, came in the unique Ferguson P99 at the non-championship Oulton Park Gold Cup – still the only victory for a four-wheel-drive F1 car.
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Story I heard
was that there was a corner at a track that was a bit of a dillema to drivers as to whetether they could take it 'flat' so another racing driver says to "Mr moss what do you do through there?" Moss says "I take it flatters...foot flat to the floor" so chap takes said corner flat and nearly has a big accident so he says to Mr Moss "jesus how do you get away with doing that? Moss says "bloody hell, you didn't actually do that did you?