Morning:
8°c
Although these are hardly the very last words an English sportswriter ever expected to write (not with "Weren't Lawro and Lineker hilarious on Match of the Day?" in the field, at least), there's no denying a surreal quality to typing the sentence: Jenson Button is the Grand Prix drivers' world champion.
You may have watched every second of an admirably chaotic Formula 1 season, seen Jenson on top of the podium after six of the first seven races, and charted his fretful husbandry of a huge points lead since he and his Brawn lost form in early summer. Yet, however familiar the figures, the fact still takes some swallowing because for eight years this likeable young chap from Frome in Somerset was the premier sporting duffer even we could offer the world.
Taking a single chequered flag in all that time, Button became such a synonym for underachievement that coppers pulling over octogenarians for doing 23mph on dual carriageways would greet the old timers with "And who do you think you are, then? Jenson Button?"
No one is laughing at him now. Precisely how he secured his title in Sao Paulo is beyond my analytic grasp, because this Brazilian GP was as easy to follow as rugby union's offside law. But secure it he did with a bold, dashing and scintillating drive, not to mention some help from the compatriot he succeeds as champion.
By the time Lewis Hamilton nudged the left rear of Rubens Barrichello, Button's team-mate and only credible title rival, causing the puncture that would later end any lingering suspense, far too much had happened to be chronicled in so short a space.
Qualifying had been a riot of aquaplaning merriment and even without a drop of rain yesterday the slapstick continued when the lights went green. Within the first lap, there were not only two collisions but a pit-lane fire briefly engulfing Kimi Raikkonen's Ferrari, after McLaren's Heikki Kovalainen drove off with the fuel hose still attached. Gratifyingly for Button, who took advantage to surge from 14th place on the grid up to ninth, it was mayhem.
The one regret was that Steve Bruce wasn't a senior marshall. Had he been, the safety car which then made a brief appearance would have been awarded the race. Instead, the vehicle assisted Button by enabling the field to bunch up behind Barrichello, leading after a fine start from pole but with Mark Webber chasing him hard in his Red Bull.When racing resumed, Button drove with a fearless assurance barely seen since his last win in Turkey, making audacious overtaking manoeuvres whenever possible, and even leading for a few moments while others pitted ahead of him.
Meanwhile, local hero Barrichello was slipping backwards and by about halfway it was obvious that Button needed only to avoid trouble to render the final race in Abu Dhabi as irrelevant as England vs Belarus.
There were no melodramatics. If last year's title clincher on this track, when Hamilton overtook Timo Glock with seconds remaining, was F1's most thrilling finale, the closing laps yesterday were bereft of heart-stopping tension. When Barrichello had to pit again to have the punctured tyre replaced, it was as good as over with eight laps remaining. Soon enough Button was giving an horrendous rendition of Queen's We Are The Champions as he crossed the line with both arms held ecstatically aloft. Please don't try that yourselves, by the way. I was stopped for "erratic driving" in Notting Hill the other night by a couple of charming young officers and I'd had at least one hand on the wheel at all times.
As Jenson exited his Brawn and hugged all in sight, the BBC's Martin Brundle assured us he was the worthiest of champions. This was stretching it. He won primarily because for the first half of the season, that contentious double diffuser gave him a massive edge. But he did drive wonderfully yesterday when the pressure was at its height.
The day ended on a bum note when the band marked this victory for British pluck and perseverance (and technology) by playing Advance Australia Fair - those Aussies never give us an inch - for race-winner Webber. But that will no more plague the sweet dreams of Button than the knowledge that his was far the most impressive world championship-winning season F1 has known.
Ultimately what counts is that next to the year 2009 in the sporting history books, it will read: world drivers' champion, Jenson Button.
And in a hundred years, if not 50, no one coming upon those words in print will find them the least bit odd.
