2001 was a season in waiting, a year that initially promised so much yet ultimately delivered so little. It wasn't a Championship won by brilliant individual race performances, although there were plenty of those throughout the field. Instead, it was Michael Schumacher's relentless consistency that eventually proved too much for his rivals. Richard Barnes reviews the events of the season

2001 was a F1 season in waiting, a year that initially promised so much yet ultimately delivered so little. Going into the year, there was every reason to expect that 2001 would provide a thrilling continuation of the epic Schumacher-Hakkinen rivalry of the previous three seasons. When Hakkinen's challenge failed to materialise and teammate David Coulthard emerged as the main Championship protagonist, the F1 world watched with suspended disbelief. Surely Coulthard didn't have the tools to stretch Schumacher over the course of a seventeen-race season? The answer to that became obvious by mid-season, as Coulthard's dwindling chances became increasingly more mathematical than realistic. It wasn't a Championship won by brilliant individual race performances, although there were plenty of those throughout the field. Instead, it was Schumacher's relentless consistency that eventually proved too much for his rivals.

Professional golfers have a saying 'To win, you have to be on the dance floor'. It alludes to the fact that, in the pressure-cooker final nine holes of a major golf tournament, a lot of potential winners will blow themselves out of contention by going for broke and finding water or knee-high rough instead. The golfer who can maintain a cool head will often end up winning by default, not by shooting a brilliant score but by avoiding over-ambitious mistakes. But - the golfer has to get himself 'on the dance floor' (within a few shots of the lead going into the final nine holes) and he has to have the maturity, patience and faith to avoid pushing beyond the limits of sanity.

During 2001, Michael Schumacher got himself on the dance floor. No surprise there, he's been doing that since early 1994. Rain or shine, hot or cold, slow or fast circuit, it makes no difference to the German - come Sunday afternoon, he'll always be in the frame. Not even Prost, the record-holder whom Schumacher supplanted at the top of the all-time GP wins list, could boast such consistency. Prost was often iffy in qualifying, hesitant in carving through backmarkers, and very nervous in the wet. Schumacher shows no such weakness in any area of his driving.

For all that, 2001 proved that the German is eminently beatable, even in the ultra-fast and reliable Ferrari F2001. Coulthard did it in Brazil and Austria, Hakkinen at Silverstone and Indianapolis, brother Ralf in Canada and Germany, and Williams teammate Juan Pablo Montoya at Monza. Equally, Schumacher inherited victories simply by being on the dance floor. Some came as early as the race start, for example David Coulthard's stall at Monaco or the Williams pair's self-destruction on the grid at Spa. Other victories were literally last-gasp efforts, like Hakkinen's devastating clutch failure in Spain. Even when he was leading, Schumacher often looked vulnerable, only to triumph when the challenge of others faded. At the Nurburgring, a novice mistake by Ralf ended a potentially epic duel, and Juan Pablo Montoya's promising challenge in France was scuppered by Ralf's refusal to yield to his faster teammate, even before the Colombian's engine expired.

Naturally, no driver wins 53 GPs by merely hanging about waiting for the opposition to self-implode, and the 2001 season gave glimpses of Schumacher at his dominant best. He bookended the season with fine one-horse race wins in Australia and Japan, but his best moment by far was at Sepang. The Malaysian track must surely be Schumacher's favourite. In the three years since GP racing started in Malaysia, no driver has come close to challenging Schumacher on the unique and demanding Sepang layout. He may have only finished second in 1999, but there's no doubt that he could have lapped the field if team circumstances hadn't dictated that he yield to, and protect, teammate Eddie Irvine. In 2000, he recorded a flawless pole-to-finish win. As if those two performances weren't enough, he added a third in 2001, and one fraught with setbacks. An early spin on oil and a botched pitstop for fresh tyres demanded the very best from the 'Regenmeister', and he delivered with a jaw-dropping wet-weather display that had cynics wondering if the FIA hadn't allowed Ferrari to reintroduce traction control several races earlier than the opposition.

The legal reintroduction at Spain effectively scotched those rumours, and also served to quell a long-standing controversy in Schumacher's career - whether or not he's won races and championships with illegal traction control. Spain, and the rest of the season, indicated that neither Schumacher nor Ferrari needed illegal traction control in order to win. The Schumacher/Ferrari slump, much anticipated and eagerly awaited by cynics, didn't happen. On the contrary, Ferrari and its engine customers Sauber and Prost retained their positions in the F1 pecking order, with no measurable improvement or reduction in speed relative to their competitors.

That didn't stop McLaren chief and Ferrari nemesis Ron Dennis from taking verbal digs at the Scuderia, or anybody else perceived to be hampering David Coulthard's Championship challenge. Arrows rookie Enrique Bernoldi was the primary target for his refusal to let a charging Coulthard past at Monaco. As the season wore on, an increasingly muted Dennis was forced to turn his attention to troubles emanating from within the McLaren camp. The persistent launch control problems, coupled with Mika Hakkinen's loss of form, signalled the start of the slide. By the time Jaguar announced that they had signed ace McLaren designer Adrian Newey, the Woking team was clearly in crisis. Dennis managed to avert the Newey defection, and signed a promising replacement for Hakkinen in young Kimi Raikkonen, but the whole McLaren outfit must be glad to see the back of the 2001 season.

Ron Dennis put a brave face on the team's misfortunes, congratulating McLaren's 'good friends' Williams on their return to the winner's circle. In the context of virtually any other F1 team, the Williams 2001 season would be seen as a huge success. To win four GP in one season, after three winless years, would be cause for celebration. But this is not an average F1 team, this is Williams, where winning has become a way of life. Despite all their placatory statements about 'rebuilding' and 'not being ready for a serious Championship challenge yet', the Williams-BMW leadership have an irrepressible desire to win, and they produced a car capable of winning during 2001, also boasting one of the most talented driver pairings in F1. In that context, the season was ultimately a disappointment for them.

Unreliability was the most obvious factor, although Sir Frank Williams and technical director Patrick Head are never shy to blame driver under-performance. In Ralf Schumacher and Juan Pablo Montoya, Williams may have their match verbally. Early in the season, after Patrick Head had remarked that the modern driver pairings didn't quite match up to the classic Williams partnership of Alan Jones and Carlos Reutemann, Ralf Schumacher pointedly commented that the team's failure to finish races was the result of mechanical failure and not driver error. It's no secret that the two Williams drivers do not like each other, and the team takes this potentially explosive cocktail into a 2002 season that promises much. Montoya seems the better Championship bet of the two, if only because he showed sustained and constant improvement during his rookie year. Ralf Schumacher, by contrast, swings from calm and strategic brilliance one weekend to the role of complaining bemused loser the next.

In that sense, the younger Schumacher is not alone. During his long career, Jean Alesi seemed to revel in his image as F1's resident enigma, a driver who could be blindingly fast one day, and totally off the boil the next. Among the current crop of drivers, there are several worthy heirs to that throne. Take Heinz-Harald Frentzen, who can doddle about aimlessly in midfield before producing a stunningly fast race lap, as he did at Monaco. Or ex-Jordan teammate Jarno Trulli, possibly the fastest driver in F1 over one lap, but disappointingly mediocre over seventy. Or Jos Verstappen, who overtook more cars than anybody else during 2001, yet was outqualified by a journeyman rookie teammate over the course of the season. Or Eddie Irvine, who can manhandle the Jaguar to an unlikely points finish one race, only to spin half a dozen times in the following GP.

Surrounded by such inconsistency and unpredictability, no wonder Michael Schumacher was able to dominate the 2001 season so comprehensively. On paper, the year will go down as the most one-sided in recent memory, with Schumacher setting a single-season points record of 123 and outdistancing his nearest rival by an incredible 58 points. Yet, on a race by race basis, the season provided close competitive and thrilling motor racing. For 2002, the rest of the field do not have to figure out how to beat Schumacher at any one circuit, but rather how to match his peerless season-long consistency. Any one of Montoya, Ralf Schumacher, Coulthard, Raikkonen, or perhaps even Trulli or Button in the improving Benettons, could emerge as the German's main Championship threat. Only one thing is certain - for every GP in 2002, Michael Schumacher will be on the dance floor. That alone makes him the overwhelming favourite for yet another title.