The Race That Started It All

The morning of 13 May 1950 dawned cool and grey over Silverstone, the old wartime airfield that had been hastily converted into a racing circuit by using straw bales and rope to mark out a course on its perimeter roads. Britain was still finding its feet after the Second World War — rationing remained in place, the National Health Service was just two years old, prefab houses dotted the landscape — yet over 100,000 people had poured into Northamptonshire to witness something entirely new: the first round of the FIA World Championship for Drivers.

The field was dominated by Alfa Romeo's scarlet 158s, pre-war designs that had been hidden in a cheese factory in northern Italy during the German occupation and now emerged, refined and re-engined, as the most potent single-seaters on earth. Giuseppe 'Nino' Farina, Luigi Fagioli and Juan Manuel Fangio — three of the fastest drivers alive — were all entered for the Milanese team, along with British privateer Reg Parnell in a fourth Alfa Romeo. The competition came primarily from ERA and Maserati, machinery that was several steps behind Alfa Romeo's thoroughbred technology.

When the starter dropped the flag at two in the afternoon, Farina led immediately and barely looked back. His style was distinctive and instantly arresting to the watching crowd: arms outstretched almost horizontally on the wheel, back rigid against the seat, a studied cool elegance that belied the machine he was controlling across Silverstone's fast, flat sweeps. Fangio, widely considered the class of the field, was eliminated early when his Alfa Romeo developed a problem, leaving Farina to demonstrate his mastery of the circuit with a consummate, unhurried winning drive.

The occasion was graced by King George VI and Queen Elizabeth, who arrived to tremendous cheering from the stands. Their presence underlined the magnitude of what was being witnessed — not just a motor race, but the birth of the world's premier single-seater championship, a series that within a generation would become the most watched annual sporting event on the planet.

Nino Farina crossed the line first to claim the inaugural nine championship points, his Alfa Romeo 158 unchallenged at the front from early in the race. Teammate Luigi Fagioli took second after a steady drive, while British privateer Reg Parnell claimed a remarkable third in his own Alfa Romeo entry — the home crowd's warmest cheer of the afternoon going to one of their own on the podium. Fagioli and Farina were separated by under a minute; Parnell a further forty seconds behind.

Juan Manuel Fangio, who many had expected to challenge Farina for victory, was forced to retire with a mechanical failure, as was his fellow Alfa Romeo works driver. The Ferraris and Maseratis of the opposition found themselves thoroughly outclassed, with Emmanuel de Graffenried the leading non-Alfa entry in fourth.

With nine points to Farina and six to Fagioli, the opening race of the World Championship had established Alfa Romeo's overwhelming superiority. The title was very much alive among their own drivers — Farina, Fagioli and Fangio would spend the season trading wins — but any suggestion that an outside team could break the Italian manufacturer's dominance seemed fanciful after Silverstone.

Farina would go on to win the 1950 championship by 3 points over Fagioli, with Fangio third. The three-way internal Alfa Romeo battle was the real drama of the season, with the team diplomatically rotating victories and the drivers sometimes cooperating and sometimes competing against each other.

Britain in May 1950 remained in the grip of post-war austerity. Food rationing, introduced in 1940, would continue for another four years. The Marshall Plan was rebuilding western Europe and the Cold War was hardening: just three weeks after this race, North Korean forces would invade the South, dragging the world back toward large-scale conflict. Against this backdrop, 100,000 Britons found joy in speed and spectacle on a flat Northamptonshire airfield, cheering as a Royal visit gave the new championship a stamp of legitimacy that money couldn't have bought.

For many in the crowd, the cars on track — deafeningly loud, vivid red, throwing up puffs of dust on the perimeter road surface — were the first motorsport event they had ever attended. The sport was new to them and they were new to the sport. The World Championship was a genuinely popular invention in a country hungry for entertainment after a decade of privation.

Cool and overcast, with temperatures in the mid-teens Celsius. Dry throughout the race, though the morning had brought some mist typical of an English spring. The Silverstone surface was firm and fast across its long, flat sweepers. No wind of consequence, the conditions benign and well-suited to the fast Alfa Romeos.