This is probably going to be my shortest argument for any driver on these pages. That is not because he is any less deserving of the award, just that more than anyone else Keke Rosberg can be summed up in one small story.
1985 British Grand Prix Final Qualifying. A cigarette hits the floor behind the Williams garage and is extinguished by a racing boot. It’s owner turns back towards his car and says, “Lets do it!”
What he was about to do was lap Silverstone at an average speed of 160 miles an hour. It would have to wait almost 20 years - for the arrival of Juan-Pablo Montoya – before anybody would come close to beating that.
The original Flying Finn (Who was actually born in Sweden) scored but a single victory en route to the 1982 driver’s title. However when the season was out it was Keke and his little normally aspirated Cosworth that had beaten the almighty turbos!
As a symbol of 1980’s style, he must be held right up there with Burt Reynolds and Magnum PI as carrying the finest facial follicles of the Thatcher era.
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