Max Mosley’s autobiography has been much anticipated: by the motor racing world, by the writers and readers of tabloid newspapers, by social historians, and by lawyers, whom one imagines perusing it with nods, frowns and the occasional wince.
Mosley is a barrister of Gray’s Inn, and it was as a lawyer that, with his friend Bernie Ecclestone, he came to dominate motor racing. Their association began in 1964, when Mosley was a pupil in Lord Hailsham’s chambers and Ecclestone was the country’s top used-car dealer, said to be able to value an entire showroom at a glance.
Ten years later, when they had both made the transition from driving to manufacturing — Mosley with March, Ecclestone with Brabham — they founded the Formula One Constructors’ Association, which, with Ecclestone as its CEO and Mosley as its lawyer, went on to outmanoeuvre the Fédération Internationale de l’Automobile (FIA, equivalent to Fifa) for the television rights to the sport.
Mosley and Ecclestone made a double-act worthy of Ealing Studios — the raffish toff and the crafty geezer.
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