Death of a Sportsman

"I'm a lucky driver," he used to say. "I've never been in the water." With luck riding in the cockpit, Italy's Ezio Selva became a world champion hydroplane driver, a little, effusive man with a light touch on the skidding turns and a heavy foot on the straightaways. A onetime high-diving champion of Italy, Selva seemed ideally suited for the sport he took up in 1948 at the advanced age of 46. Cockily, he used the 400-h.p. Alfa-Romeo engine from the boat that had killed his good friend, Mario Verga, in 1954. "One engine won't kill two men," said Selva.

But in the U.S., Selva had more than his share of bad breaks. Three times he was knocked out of the Orange Bowl's

International Grand Prix in Miami, twice on disqualifications and once when an underwater object ripped a hole in his hurtling hull. Last week when he climbed into his bright red "Moschettiere" (Musketeer) for a fourth try at the event. Selva had good reason to think this time his luck might be good. He knew the course, and his engine was tuned to a blatting, bellowing roar of controlled fury. But win or lose, Selva, 55, had decided to quit the sport after the race. Said he: "I'm too old."

Against standard racing strategy, Selva let himself be beaten to the starting line in the first heat, was trapped back in the pack and could not break loose until the last lap when he nearly caught the winner, George Byers Jr. of Columbus, Ohio. Between heats he explained to newsmen: "I no like to start first--bad luck."

In the second heat, Selva again was beaten to the start by two boats, but the judges immediately disqualified them both for jumping the gun. Out on the water, without knowledge of the judges' decision, Selva knew only that he was behind again. While his 20-year-old son Luciano made movies of the race from the shore, Selva roared after the leaders. The arching rooster tail of water thrown up by his prop hissed behind as Selva whipped past the second boat. And skipping down the straightaway at 100 m.p.h., he shot into the lead right in front of his son's camera.

An instant later, a wave slightly lifted the hydroplane's flat nose. Ponderously, the 364-lb. boat started into a slow-motion backward somersault. Luciano hurled away his camera and screamed: "It's turning over! Father, father!" The red Musketeer landed full on its bow, dashing Selva against the windshield. His son half-jumped, half-fell 30 ft. to the ground from the judges' stand and leaped into the bay. A patrol boat raced to pick up Selva's floating body. The windshield had ripped into Selva's chest, and he was already dead. His first spill into the water was his last.

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