Didier had already met and been somewhat in awe of Tico Martini, the eponymous racing car builder based at the Magny-Cours circuit. So when it came time to choosing between an Alpine or a Martini chassis for the season ahead, he had no hesitation in opting for a Martini MK11, because ‘Tico’s cars win all the races’. Faultless logic.
Having just celebrated his 21st birthday, Didier could now call himself a professional racing driver. For the 1973 season, he would be allocated a seat at Ecurie Elf, in one of the company’s two factory outfits. The baby of the team, Didier became the third driver in a line-up also comprising Maxime Bochet, an experienced older hand, and Yannick Auxéméry, who was dropping back a category after an unsatisfactory crack at F3. Tambay, meanwhile, would be lining up for a second season under the Elf banner.
More competition would come in the shape of rival petroleum company Shell and their own laureate of 1972, the little Grenoblois, Rene Arnoux. Although Formula Renault attracted plenty of plucky privateers, the petrol conglomerates sliced up the sharp end of the grid during these years. Along with Shell and Elf, BP and Motul also fielded strong teams.
A long season lay ahead, with 20 races at circuits the length and breadth of France including overseas visits to Britain, Spain, Belgium, Germany and Italy. Races came thick and fast. For example, on 1 May, the Magny-Cours circuit in central France played host to the series, followed a week later with a 700-kilometre trek southwards to the Pau circuit, stamina and resolve tested to breaking point thereafter with a trip to the UK to race on the 13th of the month, followed immediately by a return to mid-France for a race at La Châtre on 20 May. Four races in four weekends and 3,000 kilometres clocked up!
Consisting of large fields of young and relatively inexperienced racers, Formula Renault was a fast and very furious category of racing.
While Arnoux and Tambay hit the ground running, Didier’s career began on a more circumspect note. Not until the series crossed the English Channel, arriving at a wet and windy Snetterton for the sixth round of the championship, did the young man finally manage to show his talent with a steady fourth-place finish. It was progress, but hardly the blaze of glory the Pilot-Elf champion had envisaged. However, the factory team was underperforming. Team manager Roland Trollé duly came under increasing pressure from Elf top brass, who naturally expected to see their investment in the team rewarded with success.
The anticipated glory, however, was not forthcoming. Even the team’s senior drivers struggled. Irony of ironies, it appears that the synthetic oil supplied by team sponsors Elf was having a detrimental effect on engine performance! High operating temperatures was just one of several problems plaguing the team. Mechanical breakdown became a depressingly common feature of the season for Didier and his team-mates.
However, the problems did not end there. Although very much the junior member of the squad, Trollé’s conservative approach to the business of team management frustrated Didier. In particular, the rookie voiced concerns regarding how Elf’s generous budget was being handled. In between F3 commitments of his own, cousin José also involved himself in some frank discussions on this topic.
‘Didier was very young and very impulsive,’ recalled Bochet, the team’s lead driver. True enough; the Parisian was indeed a young man in a hurry. It was this mix of inexperience and impetuosity allied with mechanical fragility that was proving his undoing. Halfway into the season, the laureate had accumulated a paltry 16 points and was still waiting to climb the steps to his first podium.
Despite plenty of setbacks, Didier’s spirit never wavered, a quality that impressed Elf as well as Bochet: ‘He never gave up; he remained positive, showing intelligence, foresight and courage.’ Another member of the team recalled a ‘super-motivated’ young man.
For the two senior drivers the outlook was even gloomier. Although he had scored what transpired to be the team’s sole victory of the year at Pau, Bochet was under pressure; so too Auxéméry, whose best results had been two fourth-placed finishes at Nogaro and Monaco. As summer passed to autumn and results stubbornly refused to materialise, both men found themselves in the ignominious position of being ‘surplus to requirements’. In their wisdom, Elf had chosen to terminate both drivers’ contracts.
Christian Courtel was a new motorsport journalist back in 1972 whose career just happened to be coinciding with that of an aspiring racer fresh from his Pilot-Elf triumph. ‘I was immediately seduced by his approach. He was then 22 years old, and despite a youthful face, one discerned a certain maturity in his eyes and speech.’ Courtel observed the young man’s progress through Formula Renault with interest. What impressed him most during these formative years was the young racer’s pragmatism, especially in that often fraught 1973 rookie season: ‘While his team-mates remained stuck in difficulties, Didier, more methodical, knew how to respond more effectively despite his lack of experience. Never once panicking, he developed a rigorous and constructive approach to problems.’
Didier thus became the team’s sole representative. Far from being daunted, the youngster relished this new-found responsibility. Closing ranks around their remaining driver, the team could now lavish their full attention on the rookie. Almost immediately, his results improved. Not for the first time in his career, once out of the shadow of a team-mate, Didier experienced an upturn in fortunes.
Although it was far too late to challenge championship pacesetters Arnoux and Tambay, the Elf pilot finished the season with a flourish. The long-awaited first podium finally arrived thanks to a fine second place behind Alain Couderc in Nivelles.
By the time the circus arrived on the outskirts of Madrid for the final race of an exhilarating season, Didier’s confidence was sky high. Qualifying his MK11 on the front row of the grid, the youngster gatecrashed what had become a thrilling three-way fight for the title between Arnoux, Tambay and Couderc. Forty-five minutes later, he was rewarded with yet another podium finish. Just as he had done at the Pilot-Elf finals, Didier had reserved his best performances for when it really mattered: at the business end of proceedings. After a tentative start to his season, one in which both his team-mates had been sacked, he had ended the season on an upward curve. His final haul of 75 points resulted in a solid if unspectacular sixth place in the overall standings.
1973 had been a tumultuous season. Without that late run of form, which had yielded three podium finishes in the last four races of the season, who knows in which direction the young man’s future might have gone. Of the many lessons learnt, one stood out above all: a driver is only as good as his team. The rookie had a lot of thinking to do.
It was during this apprenticeship year that Didier had first made the acquaintance of a pretty 18-year-old who moved in much the same circles. While he busied himself with engines, tyres and whatnot, she might be engaged in a spot of promotional work, photography and the like. They hit it off immediately. Petite and vivacious, Catherine Goux was just the type of girl that Didier appreciated. When the pair met up on circuit or at the house of a mutual friend, the chemistry was obvious. The classic slow burner, a decade would elapse before the pair would finally come together.
Romance aside, of more concern at this stage of his career loomed the question of 1974. Didier was acutely aware that his debut season had somewhat underwhelmed – himself much more than the motor racing press or Elf. Could he afford another season of unfulfilment? Short answer: no. Motor racing talent abounded in France. To avoid the very real risk of becoming yet another lost prospect, Didier needed to think out of the box.
Which is precisely what he did. After a great deal of agonising, a thought occurred: What if I could run my own team? What if I could control the budget, make my own decisions? Always supremely confident in his abilities, taking control over his own destiny seemed an obvious solution.
Yet as ideas go, it seemed outlandish – even ridiculous. After all, at 22 years of age and with just a single lacklustre season of competitive racing under his belt, Didier was hardly in a position
to make any sort of demands. Nevertheless, his mind was made up. If he wished to progress to Formula Renault Europe, the next stage up the racing ladder – which he did – his next move would be crucial. The power laid in the hands of Elf. Would the petroleum giant entertain him?
Enthused with the idea of going it alone, the would-be team boss sat down in the lounge at Boissy where he started to draw up plans with customary precision. Didier would need to convince Elf top brass to entrust him – a relative novice – with a whole year’s budget. Considerable effort went into the business plan. Finally, it was time to test the water. Didier telephoned the company’s head office in Rue Jean Nicot in central Paris to set up a meeting.
François Guiter, Elf’s head of competition, was already a somewhat legendary figure in France and beyond. It is no exaggeration to claim that this gentle giant of a man had single-handedly created the conditions under which French motorsport had become a world leader, in F1, sports cars, rallying and many other junior formulae besides. Through his efforts, Elf had formed a very fruitful partnership with Ken Tyrrell’s Formula 1 team and its triple-world champion driver, Jackie Stewart. He had also been instrumental in setting up the Pilot-Elf competition, one of whose star graduates happened to be sitting opposite him in his office this very day.
‘So, Pironi, how can I assist you today?’ Guiter had a way of making eye contact that intimidated some, encouraged others. Shifting his bulk, the ‘Godfather’ sat back in his executive leather chair.
Always the coolest of customers, the youngster presented his file, the fruit of several weeks’ labour. Guiter was impressed. The young man had done his homework.
Something about this freckle-faced lad appealed to the ex-soldier who, when away from the office, liked nothing more than to dive into the dark, subterranean world of underground caves. A friend of the celebrated diver Jacques Cousteau, Guiter had learned to trust his instincts.
Didier explained his plan: he would find a suitable location in Magny-Cours near Tico Martini’s workshop to serve as HQ, source a team of mechanics, negotiate with engine suppliers, prepare his own cars and manage all aspects of the budget and administration. In short, he would, with Elf’s backing, create a successful Formula Renault enterprise.
Bemused, Guiter listened. The young man outlined his plan with a clarity and composure that belied his years. The motor racing mogul could not help but be impressed.
Guiter considered; at stake, a motor racing career.
‘OK, baby Pironi, I am willing to trust you with the budget for 1974, on one condition…’
Didier could hardly believe his ears.
‘You must win the title for us.’
‘Monsieur Guiter, I promise I will win the title!’ The two men shook hands. Didier left the office in a daze.
He had just secured a budget of some 300,000 francs!6 It would be a mistake, however, to think of this largesse as anything other than an investment. Elf’s sponsorship of French motor racing and its drivers amounted entirely to a commercial proposition.
A little under 12 months ago he had rocked up at Paul Ricard to try his luck at Pilot-Elf, a blonde aristocrat who some had assumed (wrongly) would soon return to the Parisian suburbs once he’d had his fill of motor racing thrills ’n’ spills. Underestimate Pironi at your peril. The young man had just taken a gigantic step forward on the road to his chosen goal.
There was no time to lose. Didier immediately set off for Magny-Cours, a small town of some 1,500 inhabitants, many of whose fortunes were inextricably linked to that of the nearby Nevers race circuit. At his side, Agnes, a young lady of elfin-like appearance he had met while on a Christmas skiing holiday in Les Gets some years earlier, and whom Didier at this time referred to as ‘my fiancée’. A former butcher’s shop located on the corner of the town’s main square caught the couple’s eye. Badly in need of refurbishment and some TLC, this grand old building seemed the perfect location from which to launch an adventure.
New town, new venture, new life. Exciting times laid ahead.
First things first: the building needed to be adapted to the requirements of a budding racing team. Using his skills gained in studying public building works, Didier hired and personally supervised a team of craftsmen to undertake the work. Agnes, meanwhile, got out the broom and dedicated herself to decorating the new house, the crowning glory of which would be a tasteful lounge featuring a Formula Renault steering-wheel-themed chandelier.
Fifty metres further down La Rue du Pré Morand, the team requisitioned a garage, which also received a major makeover. Benches, tools and drills installed, Team Pironi had acquired a base. Work often continued well into the evening.
In the midst of all this activity, Didier started to gather a trusted team of mechanics who had previously worked for José and who readily agreed to join the enterprise. A deal was soon thrashed out with the Bozian brothers to prepare engines. If all this was not enough, the baby-faced boss spent oodles of time over at Tico’s workshops, a short walk from the main square through the town’s narrow, winding streets. Didier could not wait to get his hands on his mentor’s latest creation, the MK14, the only chassis to have in Formula Renault. With the arrival later in the year of future Renault F1 chief mechanic, Daniel Champion, another piece of the jigsaw would fall into place. Champion had worked previously with Patrick Tambay and Jean-Pierre Jabouille. The ex-house electrician from Normandy certainly knew his way around a Formula Renault car.
‘Team Pironi’ was starting to take shape.
Thus began a three-year sojourn in this sleepy part of mid-France. The gang lived, worked and played together. The new tenants wasted little time in shaping this old property to their requirements. Upstairs in the loft overlooking the sleepy square, they installed fitness and gym equipment. If the residents of number 1 La Rue du Pré Morand had not had their fill of motorsport on any given day, the huge Scalextric race track that occupied a part of the lounge would ease the transition from real race track to home.
‘A total madhouse…’ remarked Imelda upon visiting soon after the youngsters had commandeered the premises. ‘Young, passionate, warm and friendly.’ Theirs was a commune redolent with synergy.
1973 had been a chaotic year, but it had not been entirely wasted. Some valuable lessons had been learnt along the way. Drawing upon a maturity and a resolve that must have seemed incongruous for one of such a boyish appearance, right from the start Didier approached the job with utter professionalism. Awash with francs, young, independent, living a dream, less focused individuals might well have squandered a similar opportunity. Not Pironi. Elf, and in particular François Guiter, had shown enormous trust and Didier was determined to repay their faith in him.
When the French government suspended all forms of motorsport due to the OPEC oil crisis late that year, for one dreadful moment the dream looked shaky. Fuel rationing became a serious possibility. For the people who made their living in motorsport, uncertainty was never far away during the winter of 1973/74. Would there even be a Formula Renault championship in 1974? Indeed, Shell decided to close their racing operation down completely. Reigning champion and Shell’s 1972 laureate, Rene Arnoux found himself out of a team and out of work, further vindication of Didier’s decision to choose Elf over their rivals. Thankfully, the situation resolved itself before January’s frosts had thawed.
It was full speed ahead at Team Didier: Pilot-Elf’s 1973 laureate, Richard Dallest, joined the team and when Martini delivered the MK14 ahead of time – the result of endless pestering – the team immediately set about testing their new car. Even before the season’s Paul Ricard curtain raiser scheduled for 7 April, the team had clocked up hundreds of miles of testing. Advantage Didier.
Despite Arnoux’s enforced sabbatical, competition would be stiffer than ever for the season ahead. Driving in the colours of BP, and following his narrow miss in ’73, Alain Couderc could rightly claim to be one of the category’s brightest stars during this era. The talented duo of Marc Sourd and
Dany Snobeck headed up a four-pronged attack for UFP (Union of French Petroleum). The total number of entrants for the competition swelled to over 120, making the fears inspired by the oil crisis of just a few months earlier seem absurd. Didier would certainly not have things all his own way – far from it. The only snag as far the organisers were concerned turned out to be the paucity of entrants from outside La Republic. In an attempt to widen the series’ appeal, the organisers offered a 1,000-franc start bonus per race to competitors racing outside their home country. It would take a brave man to take the French on at their own game.
A classic season of racing lay ahead.
Plenty of heads turned as the impressive Team Pironi transporter rolled up in the Paul Ricard paddock in early April, the logos of Renault and Elf prominently displayed. Dressed in their crisp blue overalls, Alain, Benito and Daniel – the team’s mechanics – certainly looked the business. The same was true of Agnes, who assumed the role of timekeeper in addition to administrative duties. Slick and corporate, this was Didier all over.
What the other drivers must have thought of this show of strength can readily be guessed. When the team unloaded a pair of gleaming MK14s from the trailer, astonishment turned to dismay. It was not long before the green-eyed monster raised its ugly head: Pironi! A rich kid! Spoilt! The arrival of Le Patron in his powerful Mercedes-Benz 450 can hardly have helped matters.
They would come in time to call him ‘the American’, a sobriquet not entirely used as a term of endearment …
Nonetheless, all that pre-season hard work paid off handsomely. Didier swept to victory at Ricard, and repeated the feat a week later at Nogaro. Team-mate Richard Dallest caused a minor sensation when grabbing pole in his maiden outing at Ricard, but thereafter Didier usually had the measure of the man from Marseille.
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