Photo by Supermac1961, extracted from this file. Licensed under CC BY 2.0.
Photo by Supermac1961, extracted and cropped from this file. Licensed under CC BY 2.0.
September 28, 1990
Martin Donnelly from Belfast stepped into his Lotus for what was meant to be just another practice session at the Spanish Grand Prix in Jerez.
But what happened next? That wasn’t just another day. It became one of the most horrifying and unforgettable accidents in the sport’s modern history.
Let’s look back at what really happened, on the track and beyond.
What caused the crash at Jerez?
Jerez is fast. Especially the final sector, with its sweeping corners that demand absolute confidence. He was right on the limit, leaning into a quick right-hander, when something went catastrophically wrong.
There was no warning. No smoke. No loss of control. Just a sudden, violent failure. A suspension component broke at nearly 170 mph. The car veered off track, smashed into the barriers, and disintegrated on impact. The Lotus was torn in half.
And the driver? Still strapped to his seat, he was thrown from the wreck, landing on the tarmac, limp and motionless. At first glance, it looked like he hadn’t made it.
How did he survive?
Honestly, he shouldn’t have.
When medics arrived, he wasn’t breathing. He had swallowed his tongue, both lungs were collapsing, his skull was swelling, and one leg was nearly severed. Some on-site doctors even considered immediate amputation.
Then came Professor Sid Watkins—the man who’d saved lives before and would save more in the years to come. He opened the airway, performed a tracheotomy right there, and used his own belt to stop the bleeding. He did everything he can and gave the young driver a fighting chance.
Still, the outlook was bleak. Airlifted to Seville, he was placed in a coma and flatlined twice. Last rites were read. yet somehow, he woke up, alive, conscious, and aware.
Who was the first to help?
Not a marshal or a medic, but another racer, Pierluigi Martini, he was driving for Minardi back in the day.
As the chaos unfolded, Martini stopped his own car and parked it sideways across the track, shielding the crash site from other incoming cars, no hesitation, just bravery and his instinct and humanity. For that moment, the race stopped. Only survival mattered, everyone was shocked.
Soon after, Professor Watkins and the medical team arrived. What followed wasn not a battle for grid position,it was a fight for a life.
Did he ever race again in Formula 1?
Not in a Grand Prix. It was his last dance in Formula 1 at Jerez 1990.
What about his recovery? Unbelievable, the recovery was astonishing, relearning to walk, regaining mental clarity, even testing a Jordan F1 car in 1993, but the damage to his leg made a full return impossible, a Sunday race was impossible for him anymore.
Still, he never left the sport. Coaching, managing junior drivers, racing in other categories, he stayed close to the paddock. Once you’ve lived F1, it never really lets go.
Why was Brad Pitt so moved by his story?
Brad Pitt came across the story, and it hit hard.
The plot? A veteran driver returning after a devastating crash. Sound familiar?
Pitt was captivated, not just by the footage, but by the resilience behind it. He met the man. Heard every detail. And walked away calling him “a real-life hero.”
“You see that crash,” Pitt said, “and wonder how he survived. Then you meet him and realize the survival was only half the story.”
He later brought him on as a consultant for the film, seeking insight only someone who’d faced the edge could provide.
What did Senna say?
Ayrton Senna, who had shared time with him at Lotus, was visibly shaken.
He didn’t say much to reporters. He didn’t need to. Instead, he got back in his car and set the fastest lap of the session. That was Senna’s way of processing fear, through focus, through speed.
Quietly, he reached out to the family. Offered help. Travel, doctors, whatever they needed.
What did others say about the crash?
Derek Warwick, his Lotus teammate, called it “the most unbelievable escape I’ve ever seen.”
Frank Dernie, then Lotus technical director, was amazed that anyone could survive such a catastrophic impact.
Motorsport media labeled it an “act of God.”
In garages and forums, fans didn’t just speak of the violence. They remembered the comeback, the will to live, the quiet strength. He may not have returned to racing in F1, but he returned to life. And that resonated more.
The echo of that day
It has been over three decades, but for anyone who saw it, the image of his body lying exposed and lifeless on the track has never faded. A moment when the sport’s fragility was laid bare.
But what followed was even more unforgettable: the survival, the resilience, the quiet return to the world.
That crash wasn’t just a tale of destruction—it became a testament to human strength. And that’s why it still matters—to fans, to actors, to drivers who know every lap could be their last.
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