Like father, like son? An interview with Mick Schumacher

He recalls, too, the Montana restaurant across the bridge, where “Oma Rossella” – chef and (grand) mother figure to generations of Ferrari drivers – served him pasta. Back then, testing was, of course, effectively unrestricted, so Fiorano was his father’s second home, yet today Mick is driving the circuit for the first time, in a road car as part of the Tributo’s launch programme.

“Testing is prohibited, so it [usually] makes little sense to lap in a road car when I could be in the simulator, which is more productive,” says Mick.

That said, he is clearly enjoying the Tributo, saying it feels more like a heavy race car than a road car, adding that he finds the shift lights on the steering wheel helpful and the seamless power delivery out of the twisty bits equally enjoyable.

“I’ve accelerated out of most corners in third gear; usually they are second-gear corners,” he enthuses. “I’m impressed with how the motor pulls from low revs, and the speed the car carries through corners.

“I’m able to lean on the front wheels and pour on power, which would usually result in understeer. Normally you’d have to wait until the car is pointing straight ahead before flooring it, but with this one I’m able to carry speed into the corner, turn in and accelerate.

“I have the ESP and traction control off… and play with Race and Sport modes.”

Mick confesses to having dreamed of driving a Ferrari as a youngster, and not any Maranello product but a 458 Italia – developed with input from his father: “I sense my father’s DNA in every Ferrari, and that makes me extremely proud.”

Is that why Mick accepted Ferrari’s offer rather than join the Silver Arrows, with which his father ended his second F1 career?

“It’s to do with history,” he says slowly. “I feel drawn to here, I grew up here and with the exception of one season – Van Amersfoort in Formula 4 – I’ve driven for Italian teams. In karting I drove for Tony Kart, and with Prema I’m with an Italian team.

“The passion [Italians] have for motorsport is wonderful, and it is equally discernible at Ferrari. It’s special to be in Maranello.”

He admits to being in Maranello “as often as possible, learning tricks and tips that help me in Formula 2, which is close to Formula 1”, and believes membership of the FDA makes him a better race driver: “It can’t be described or expressed in numbers, but it’s like being part of a big family – the Ferrari family.”

Equally, he feels a strong affinity to the last German world champion, Sebastian Vettel, whom he considers a mentor. “Just as my father was mentor to Sebastian, so Sebastian is my mentor,” Mick says. “Someone I feel connected to; with whom I regularly talk motorsport. I respect him enormously, and of course he has more than a few years’ experience on me.”

Talking of which, does Mick realise how revered the name Schumacher is in F1, and, in particular, in Germany? Does he not feel enormous pressure? “No, I mean… I’m Mick. And I love this sport. That to me is the most important thing.”

His father’s love for things automotive is legendary, so how does Mick, a Generation Z-er, view cars, which are fast losing favour among his peers? “It’s difficult to explain,” he admits. “Obviously they take you from A to B, but depending upon which car you’re in, you get different sensations when driving from A to B.

“It makes a difference, whether I’m driving a Fiat or a Ferrari. Obviously I’d rather drive a Ferrari, doing 300km/h, but that’s not permitted. That is a passion, and one reacts according to the car one is driving.”

Having referenced the Ferrari 458, it is blatantly obvious that Mick is a true-red petrolhead, but could he be tempted to try electric vehicles? “Not on the race track,” he says flatly. So his approach to racing is very much of the old school, technically?

“Yes!” he says to that. “I love taking my kart to the track, tuning it. Carburettor off, carburettor on, swapping needles for optimum performance. With naturally aspirated engines, you are much closer to it and able to visualise how to make it faster. Turbos are more complicated, because you have boost pressures and bits and bobs that need computers rather than using your hands.”

Like his father, who simply loved lapping, whether during racing or testing, Mick is fascinated by finding the limit, and admits to occasionally going beyond that fine line.

“In order to drive fast, you constantly need to be on the limit, and sometimes even over it,” he says seriously. “To be right on that point, for the entire lap, then do it over and over again. You know when you’ve given your all, and it’s addictive.”

In closing, did the son of Michael Schumacher have a Plan B, one to remove him totally from motorsport? Or was his career preordained?

“Funny you should ask,” Mick grins. “I discussed this with a friend, and we decided to each choose a make-believe job that did not involve engines. I simply could not find one. Everything had to do with engines, and always will. “Plan B? Plan A works fine for me…” Like father, like son.

The legacy of Michael Schumacher

Seven world titles, 91 race victories, 68 pole positions: these are just highlights of the magnificent achievements of Michael Schumacher’s time in Formula 1. Today – despite the here-and-now fashionability of Lewis Hamilton’s achievements – he still stands by many measures as being the greatest racing driver of all time.

Beyond the statistics, Schumacher could electrify a grand prix even when the odds were against him. The soaking wet 1996 Spanish Grand Prix is widely regarded as his greatest race, so superior was he as he scythed up from sixth after a poor start to ease effortlessly away from everyone at a rate of two to three seconds a lap.

Then there was the 1995 Belgian Grand Prix, where he started 16th and made title rival Damon Hill look decidedly second best as he went on to win, his victory constructed around a delicacy on slicks in the wet that nobody else could live with. Or Spain again, in 1994, when his car jammed in fifth gear early on, yet he still came second. Or Hungary in 1998, when Ross Brawn switched him to a three-stop strategy that in effect required him to drive race-long qualifying laps without a single error. He duly won.