Nigel Mansell's route to his first Formula 1 victory was characterised by the quality that would define his entire career: the absolute refusal to accept failure as a permanent condition. He had come through junior categories without the funding that most of his rivals enjoyed, borrowing money, selling his house, doing whatever was required to keep racing. He had joined Lotus at the wrong time, when the team was in decline. He had endured crashes, setbacks, seasons that produced nothing close to what his ability merited. And then, at the end of 1984, Williams had signed him alongside Keke Rosberg, with Honda turbo engines and a genuine prospect of competing at the front.
Brands Hatch in October 1985 was the stage for everything that had been building through those difficult years. The Williams FW10 was quick; the Honda engine was one of the most powerful in the field; and Mansell, finding his feet at the sharp end of the grid for the first time with proper machinery, was discovering that he could compete with anyone. He qualified on the front row. He led.
The race tested him repeatedly. Strategy decisions, the requirement to manage tyres and fuel in the turbo era, the ever-present possibility that something mechanical would take the win away as it had taken so many near-misses away before — all of it had to be navigated. Mansell navigated it. He kept the lead and came to the final laps ahead, the Brands Hatch crowd — enormous and overwhelmingly British in its allegiance — generating a noise that could be heard from the cockpit.
When he crossed the line, the scenes in the crowd were unlike anything Brands Hatch had produced in years. Mansell, his arms aloft, his car at the edge of the circuit, was receiving the adoration of a sporting nation that had been waiting years for a driver of his quality to break through. It was, he said, the moment he had worked his entire life for.