Michael Schumacher faced one of his most difficult weekends at the San Marino Grand Prix. The death of his and brother Ralf's mother just hours before the race put both drivers in the limelight, and tested their bravery and professionalism. Schumacher senior had the added pressure of having to prove his critics wrong, demonstrating he remains the winning racer he's always been. Timothy Collings, who wrote Schumacher's biography, pays tribute to the German

He stood there, a black band strapped to his arm, grief rising from his heart, his face betrayed by the emotions of the afternoon. His mother Elisabeth had died little more than 12 hours earlier, but Michael Schumacher reached deep into his personal reservoir of reserves to rise, like a true champion of sport and humanity, beyond the pain and give her memory, his Ferrari team and the faithful tifosi a victory to cherish.

Yes, it was his 65th win. Yes, it was a race of little more than passable excitement, compared to the three amazing incident-scarred spectacles that had preceded it in Melbourne, Kuala Lumpur and Sao Paulo. And, yes, it was somewhat predictable to see the scarlet Scuderia's team leader and most successful pilot score his fifth personal triumph at the Autodromo Enzo e Dino Ferrari, named after the father and son whose heritage has given both the Imola track and the red cars such passionate symbolic meaning around the world.

But, no, it was not written in Hollywood and directed by Bernard Charles Ecclestone; no, it was, in reality and truth, one of the greatest weekends of drama that this or any sport had produced. More than that, this 2003 San Marino Grand Prix was a kind of watershed, too. It re-introduced some reality on the track where Bridgestone's tyres recovered some of their once-routine supremacy, even if it ushered in a story that few script-writers would dare deliver for fear of rejection on the grounds that it was over-fanciful.

It was the weekend when Michael Schumacher and his brother Ralf, starting from the front row of the grid after flying back to Italy from their dying mother's bedside the previous evening, reminded everyone of the ordinary humanity and mortality that we must all obey. Their behaviour was exemplary and inspiring, triggering, as it did, the remarkable sight of all of Michael's rivals on the track slowing to parade behind him on the slowing down lap after he had won, as if in respect for his towering achievement of mind, heart and spirit in the cockpit of Ferrari's F2002, probably racing for the last time. With the F2003-GA expected to debut in Spain, it was time to say adieu in more ways than one.

No-one would have been surprised, of course, if the two boys from Kerpen had chosen not to race. To drive while mourning the death of the woman who brought you into the world, who had introduced you to karting, cooked the meals you had eaten so hungrily in infancy and then bathed your first scrapes, grazes and wounds from brushes with other machines and the barriers - to do this spoke volumes for their character and the utter professionalism of the modern Grand Prix drivers.

It impressed every human being at Imola and all who tuned in to the latest episode of this unpredictable soap opera that last weekend reached far beyond its usual mechanical and technical limits to touch the feelings of the sports-loving world. As if the legend of Michael Schumacher was not famous enough, this added another layer to the complexities of his enigmatic mix of dazzling driving, fantastic fitness, colossal commitment and vulnerability under pressure. It proved also that those who talk of his loss of desire, his impending move towards retirement and his reticence to dig deep for the competitive energy that has characterised his every race to date are wrong. Way wrong. This man is not for turning away from his chosen life. Not yet.

Ferrari certainly needs him, as much as he probably needs them. It is not the money that matters now for Michael Schumacher. It is the deep reason from within, the fuller sense of satisfaction he can derive only from delivering his destiny by racing, feeling the track through the seat of his pants, the car through his toes and his fingers and the ambient conditions in the air that brushes across his face, hitting his skin and cooling or warming his scalp.

It is the way he knows he is completely alive and still doing the job his talent equipped him to do for life. Michael, for all his humanity, his faults like other men, his fame and his wealth, is driven to race. It is where he can fulfill himself. He is not a philosopher. Nor is he a professor. Nor is he a pragmatist. But he is a racer and, to listen to his words and hear the feelings of those closest to him and around him, he remains as much in love with his life in Formula One and in racing cars as ever he was as a younger man.

In Switzerland, where he has chosen to live and base his life with his wife Corinna and their two children, Michael has decided to build a beautiful house on the northern banks of Lake LeMan, less than an hour from Geneva airport, in an environment of natural beauty, serenity and peace. His two youngsters are growing up in a more privileged and secure world than that which was his at home with Ralf and their parents, Rolf and Elisabeth.

Rolf was a bricklayer, by trade, but his passion was to support Michael's racing career in karts. They spent hours and days at the local track. Rolf helped with the karts (the first was built using an engine taken from a motor mower) and the repairs, and the maintenance of the circuit, while Elisabeth prepared and served hot dogs. It was a simple childhood for the Kerpen boys, but one that prepared them both for the pressures and complexities of later life.

That his parents separated, in 1997, that Elisabeth's later life alone in the family home at Kerpen was incomplete and reported to be troubled by health difficulties, that his father left and later found a life with another woman, these were things that left the boys confused, saddened and upset, but determined to overcome in every way. It is said that Michael and Ralf supported Elisabeth as diligently as they could with financial and emotional efforts and that both understood her decline better than any could guess.

In all likelihood, the chronic stress of seeing her fall into poor health and then serious illness was a burden that only complicated their lives, making it clearer to them both that their working lives, away in speed, were the best escape. Indeed, Michael said in a statement relayed to the media long after last Sunday's race had been won and celebrated by his team that he had done it partly because it was what his mother would have wanted. She was so proud of them both.

That pride in achievement, that willingness to strive and work and resist pain to reach a goal and to remain humble and happier out of the limelight belonged to Elisabeth. It was recognised by, and in, Michael and Ralf. Their Imola achievement was a tribute to their mother and their upbringing and a clear signal, if any was needed, that Michael Schumacher and Ferrari will do all it takes to lift another Championship or two this year.