WITNESS - Burning up the Bird's Nest with Button

Thu, Nov 5 07:55 AM

Enlarge Photo Team Britain's Jenson Button (R) and Andy Priaulx hold up the Nations Cup after winning...

Jenson Button's grin never appeared as maniacal as when he leaned over me to tell David Coulthard how easily he was going to beat him.

The Formula One world champion and I were in a KTMX-BOW racing car on the start line of a circuit laid in Beijing's Bird's Nest stadium for the first heat at the annual Race of Champions on Tuesday.

I was nervous. What had seemed a great idea when it was broached an hour earlier now seemed folly for a man whose sole attempt to join the ranks of racers had ended abruptly with a 49cc moped wedged under a parked car 25 years previously.

Button, though, was in his element. Given that the final race of a long Formula One season had concluded only two days before in Abu Dhabi, he could have been forgiven for resting on his laurels.

Sitting beside him in the low-slung KTM racing car, however, I was keenly aware that even if this was not a grand prix, Button wanted to win. Badly.

He is a world champion racing driver at the pinnacle of his career, I had reasoned earlier as I squeezed myself into a race suit several sizes too small; he is not going to take any chances.

Besides, I might have a chance to have a chat and maybe winkle out a story.

"Must have been quite an end-of-season party on Sunday night?" I ventured.

"Yes, I'm still suffering a bit from that," Button grimaced as he buckled himself into the KTM before pointing out where my legs should go so that I was not bent double like a giraffe in a mini.

"You must be ready for a holiday?" I continued, warming to the task.

"A few days with the girlfriend in Japan, then yeah," he said.

"So what's this about you getting married...?"

A huge grunt from the 240 brake horsepower engine indicated that the time for talking was over and we shot off across the slippery surface of a tunnel under the stadium, the throaty roar of the KTM clattering in a cacophony off the enclosing walls.

MISCHEVIOUS SCHOOLBOY

There was no chance to take in the sights when the steward waved us into the arena to a huge roar from the crowd. Button threw our car on to the tarmac, zig-zagging violently back and forth to warm up his brakes and tyres.

Throughout his career, Button has retained something of the air of the mischievous schoolboy and, despite the shaggy growth of facial hair, it was never more evident than on the start-finish line.

The crowd cheered. He grinned. Young girls squealed "Button!". He gave the thumbs up. Coulthard drew up on the empty track beside us. He started the sledging.

"Ready to race," said the small LCD screen in the driver's cockpit. The two red bars on the trackside turned green and we were off, hurtling into the first corner, me flying back into my seat.

The race lasted exactly two minutes 00.397 seconds. I never actually closed my eyes and eventually realised that despite all the slipping and sliding, we were not going to end up in a crumpled heap in a trackside snowdrift. He was far too good.

I am proud to say my considerable ballast helped Team Britain to a victory over Coulthard's All Stars. Without me, Button and his team mate Andy Priaulx were later to lose the Nations Cup final to Germany's Michael Schumacher and Sebastian Vettel.

For Button it was one of a dozen races over the two days of the event; for me it was a tiny glimpse of the exhilaration and competitive spirit that keeps him, and those like him, racing for years at much greater speeds with much higher risks.

(Editing by Clare Fallon;

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