When Lewis Hamilton roars off in pursuit of his world title in Brazil on Sunday, he will carry as his passenger the extraordinary proposition that he personifies a new breed of British winner.
The demeanour of that potential champion is heralded as arrogant, the philosophy is victory at any cost, the manner of that winning is ugly and we should expect this to be the in-yer-face of our sport from now on.
But do we really want to win to the detriment of the unique esteem in which we are held around the world, our standing as competitors with honour to which no other nation can aspire so highly?
The year is 1958, the place Porto, the occasion the Portuguese Grand Prix.
One of two English gentlemen will become the first to bring home the world championship.
Mike Hawthorn spins off the track, restarts his car by pushing it and is therefore disqualified.
Moss gets eight for winning that race but goes on to lose his best chance of winning the title to his countryman. . . by a single point, without so much as a whisper of regret.
Would that one of the noblest acts of sportsmanship of all time could be repeated on Sunday.
In reality, there is a legacy for young Hamilton to drive for at Interlagos which matters just as much as the title, if not more.
It glitters through a litany of British champions, each different from the other but all holding one priceless quality in common — class.
Hawthorn was succeeded by Graham Hill, who attributed his success not so much to his swashbuckling nature as to ‘the self discipline taught me by my early sporting years as a rower’, a quality evident in his son when the boy Damon also won the championship.
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