SID WATKINS (1928-2012)

Sid Watkins (Facebook photo)

SID WATKINS

"I make a lot of jokes about the fact that as a neurosurgeon I should hardly be required at a motor race because the drivers don't have any brains, otherwise they wouldn't race!"

Professor Sidney Watkins is a neurosurgeon at the London Hospital where he is head of the academic unit which deals with the whole spectrum of brain disorders and injuries. He is also President of the FISA Medical Commission, Formula 1 Medical Inspector and, unofficially, the "family doctor" for everyone in the Grand Prix circus, treating any aches and pains that may crop up on a race weekend. He has been to every event since the Swedish Grand Prix of 1978, on call to perform his most important function: attending drivers who have been injured.

"To be serious, most of the drivers are very accomplished people in terms of perceptual skill.  And I admire their capability to control the machines as they do.  They have highly tuned sensory skills, and obviously highly tuned motor ones too, to be able to drive the machines.  But from the point of view of a neurologist, they've got excellent computers up there, for doing what they're doing.  And I like most of their personalities." 

"One of the interesting aspects of my presence at the races is that the drivers who know me, like to see the father figure arriving and to know that I'm around.  And that I think has helped a lot, because in the circumstances of a big accident it's sometimes hard for the driver to know who's actually trying to help him. Often the drivers don't really know who is trying to do what to them, and they're anxious that they don't get injured further than they already are. So, there's a fair amount of anxiety and tension around the situation at that stage, and my presence seems to help control it.

"The racing is getting safer, but there's always a possibility, that something terrible will happen. It's always upsetting, and that applies to all of them, even the people who have been injured savagely but have not died. I'm always sad and upset when they do get hurt, or worse. I remember when I first met Gilles Villeneuve, he said, 'Prof, I hope I'm never going to need you.' Then, of course, when I got to his accident at Zolder in 1982 his injuries were such that he didn't need me. And that made me very sad."

"I suppose you could develop an argument that there's a conflict of interest for a doctor, dedicated to saving lives, to be in a sport that can take them. But if you believe in free will, as I do, then I think it's up to anybody to do what they need to do in life, and to recognize that there are dangers, and at times there are serious dangers. Besides, there's hardly a sport that isn't dangerous, except perhaps snooker or something like that.  But the physical sports, the contact sports, all have their injuries and their fatalities from time to time.  And with regard to my own personal life, I've got a daughter who is a pilot, and a son who is a Grenadier Guard, both potentially dangerous professions. When they were younger, my two daughters were in horse show jumping and cross country eventing, and I used to get my heart in my mouth fairly frequently then. But I wouldn't stop them doing it."

When he was a boy Sid Watkins spent a lot of time in his father's garage in Liverpool, often driving cars around the property before he was licensed to do so. He became interested in the competition possibilities of cars after the war, though his goal in life had always been to become a medical practicioner. He served for two years as a British army doctor in West Africa, then trained in general and orthopedic surgery to become a neurosurgeon. While working at Oxford the proximity of Silverstone beckoned and his "obsession" with motor sport began. He became a medical officer at club events, then moved to Syracuse University in America, where he also headed the medical team at the nearest circuit, Watkins Glen, for several years. Returning to England in 1970, he joined the medical panel of the RAC where Bernie Ecclestone was impressed with his work. When Ecclestone asked Watkins to coordinate the medical side of Grand Prix racing, the doctor was only too happy to oblige.

At each circuit Professor Watkins first checks that everything in the medical centre is in order, the intervention vehicles and the rescue helicopter are ready to go and the medical personnel are in place. Then, prior to the cars going on to the track, he takes up his station at the end of pit lane, sitting in a high speed intervention vehicle in his flameproof suit, helmet in hand. He remains there throughout practice and qualifying, keeping in touch with developments by radio and ready to spring into action. At the start of the race Watkins speeds into the wake of the storm, following the cars around on the first lap.

    

"You have to make rather quick decisions as to whether or not you need to stop when you see an accident.  I suppose that's the most difficult part of it, really.  But with regard to the confusion of the start, and the chaotic pattern that many of the cars produce as they leave, with bits of this and that flying around, and the speed, I think, as I've done so much of it, I no longer get involved in that aspect of it.  I ignore all that part of it, and I'm looking for the accidents. If there is an accident, I try to make the right decision as quickly as possible, whether to stop or push on.

"The high point for me is at the end, when there hasn't been an accident and nobody's been hurt. And I get back in the hotel room, and have a shot of whisky and a shower, and then I'm always hungry, ready for a decent meal. I do keep away from most of the Grand Prix social life.  I also disassociate myself from any particular relationship with any particular team. And I'm usually to be found hanging around the circuit, rather than in a motor home. Although, over the years, the people at Goodyear have always been so nice to me, given me a sandwich and coffee, and a roof over my head when it's raining.

     "While I don't participate in any of it to any degree, I think it's a very interesting and glamorous scene. I think until you've seen the inside of it, you have no idea actually what goes on in Formula 1 motor racing. It's a meeting of a large number of minds at all sorts of levels in society, even to the giants of industry, and a fair amount of wheeling and dealing goes on in the background.  It's almost as if the sport were riding on the back of the entertainment and a huge business system with a lot of corporate decisions being made."

Professor Watkins is over 60 now and vows he will stay in the Grand Prix circus until he is "superfluous, extraneous, or perhaps a bit geriatric." When that happens Watkins, the enthusiast, will still watch the races on television. But Watkins, the neurosurgeon, prefers to be on the spot and admits that a large part of his fascination is with the specimens he observes there.

"They're all very bright people, and they are very dedicated. I only do this job outside my professional life, and they are utterly immersed in it the whole of their time.  They are extremely singleminded.  And I've always found them absolutely logical to deal with.  We don't get any hysterics, we don't get any nonsense. They're exceptional people.

"Of course, Ecclestone himself is an extraordinary person. I think he has an exceptional brain.  He's highly intelligent.  He has a wonderful memory.  He plays everything absolutely straight.  He often knows ahead of the game what the problems are.  He's almost got a predictive ability about him.  And he's extraordinarily nice to deal with.  If Bernie Ecclestone gives you his word that something will happen, then it does."

from Grand Prix People (1990)