Pironi

by David Sedgwick

  Despite such strength in depth, Larousse was not taking anything for granted. Porsche also had a strong hand to play. Furthermore, their 935/36s were not only fast, but also durable. When Jacky Ickx broke the lap record during first practice on Wednesday evening, the Regie knew they had a fight on their hands, one the whole world wanted to see. Didier posted a lap of 3’35.7, good enough for fifth on the grid. Playing it safe, Jean-Pierre’s practice times were a good few seconds off those of his team-mate.

  Aided by their elongated bodywork and extra boost, Jabouille and Depailler had recorded a whopping 228mph on the Mulsanne straight, 15mph faster than the top Porsche. Renault had the speed. The German camp, however, resisted the temptation to go for out and out top end speed. Le Mans was not all about straights – there were corners too. Finding a compromise between top end and cornering speed, the Ickx/Mass/Pescarolo 936 eventually beat Renault to pole position by a whisker under a second. Of the eight top grid spots, the German and French teams shared four apiece, a two-horse race.

  On a hot, cloudless June afternoon, the field of 55 cars trooped around the Sarthe circuit on their parade lap cheered on by a crowd of 200,000 ecstatic fans. Nerves already frayed, Renault personnel braced themselves. The smart money suggested that while the French team might enjoy some early showboating, the sturdy German cars would be there to pick up the pieces later. Inside the cockpit of Renault number 2, Didier could already feel the heat, both literally and metaphorically. Warm sunshine spilled into the car, raising the ambient temperature as high as 50°C.

  Further down the grid old Formula Renault rivals, Sourd, Matthiot and Debias had teamed up in a specially built Peugeot. Alain Cudini, the man with whom he fought so often in ’75, had failed to qualify. Wrong place, wrong time.

  Porsche v Renault; Germany v France. As the time approached four o’clock, silence fell across an entire nation as people huddled around radios and television sets. Could the might of Germany be defeated? Let battle commence.

  At the lights, Jabouille rocketed into the lead pursued by a trio of Porsches. After a scintillating first lap, Renault number one had a lead of 11 seconds! The aim: to break the backs as well as the hearts of the German raiders. The tall, blonde-haired Jabouille had come within an ace of victory in ’77 and was out today to right that wrong. Overturning all expectations, it was Ickx’s Porsche that encountered trouble first. As early as lap two the Belgian steered his misfiring mount into the pits. Le Mans is a race that is rarely if ever won at the start. The reigning champion was down, but not necessarily out.

  After the leading Renault had pitted to remedy vibrations, Jassaud/Pironi took over at the front, holding the lead for a substantial period, but it could not last. The fastest of the French quartet by some way, Renault 1 had been charging back up the field and was back in contention as dusk fell. Jabouille and Depailler assumed the lead and the race looked all but over.

  With the Ickx/Pescarolo Porsche out of contention following a 45-minute stop to change fifth gear, the German team decided on a tactical switch, sending the Belgian to join the Wollek/Barth pairing currently running in fourth place behind the Renaults. If anyone could break the Regie stranglehold, it was Ickx. The undisputed master of Le Mans – already a four-time winner – gritted his teeth. At 11.30pm, the Porsche took the first Renault. A lengthy stop to attend to a brake caliper lost Renault number two a fistful of time, dropping Didier and Jean-Pierre behind the swift Belgian and behind Bell/Jarier’s sister Renault.

  Saturday turned to Sunday. The rhythm of the night: drive, stop, refuel; drive, stop, refuel, swap, eat, drink, sleep; drive, stop, refuel …

  His stint completed, Didier would arrive in the garage where Jean-Pierre would be waiting to jump into the cockpit as soon as it was vacated, not a moment to lose. As the car roared back into the race, the young man would try to grab a couple of hours’ sleep until his next stint – easier said than done amid the hustle and bustle. As well as sleep, food and drink had to be regulated. ‘He didn’t eat too much, but he drank lots and lots of water,’ recalls Jean-Pierre. ‘Whereas each time I stopped to refuel, I went straight to the kitchen to eat as normal. I had ten meals during the race in total.’ Some of which, confesses Jean-Pierre, ‘were washed down with a glass of red…’

  A warm, humid night out on the Sarthe circuit would see fortunes ebb and flow for the German and French teams. In the small hours, Bell’s A442 became the race’s first permanent casualty. As the night wore on, two of the factory Porsches were also delayed: Pescarolo stopping at 4am with electrical problems, which took half a dozen laps to remedy, while the team’s third-string car followed into the garage a few hours later.

  In the cockpit of the plexiglass Renault, Didier was already suffering from the heat that had turned the A442 into an oven. Jassaud remembers well conditions inside the ‘bubble’. ‘When I got in the car after he stopped, it was like sitting in a bathtub, he sweated so much!’ On one changeover the driver could barely move. Painful muscle spasms shot through his entire body, the ever-faithful Agnes on hand to massage the hero’s aches. Diagnosing infection possibly due to an open wound or insect bite, doctors prescribed a tetanus jab. It was turning into a painful night for the 26-year-old.

  A bright sun rising over the Sarthe region of north-west France, by daybreak Depailler and Jabouille had a comfortable lead over Ickx and Wollek with Didier and Jean-Pierre next up. Barring accidents, Renault number 2 was on for a podium finish as a minimum. Didier was lapping around 3’35 while Jean-Pierre was averaging 3’38, a little quicker than their plan. Steady was the word.

  At around 9am the leading Porsche ran into gearbox trouble necessitating another lengthy pit stop. The Regie were now running 1-2. Behind them, a couple more Porsches.

  An hour later, when Depailler parked the A443 at the end of the Mulsanne, the groans of despair could be heard all the way from Paris, where Renault had their headquarters at the Quai Pont du Jour next to the Seine. Piston failure … Pironi and Jassaud had the lead! The duo now had a very healthy advantage over the Ickx/Wollek Porsche, but six hours still remained to the flag. Anything could happen. A broken gearbox could be replaced but not without a substantial loss of time; a broken piston, on the other hand, would spell disaster. In the Renault garage, Gerard Larousse’s complexion had been healthier. When he became aware of the perilous state of Didier’s health – the team’s only hope of victory – Larousse became paler still.

  The harsh midday sun had rendered the cockpit of the A442 a Turkish bath. Despite drinking what seemed like gallons of water between stints, Didier was fast becoming dehydrated.

  When Jassaud handed over the car with just four hours remaining, a further headache presented itself. During what would turn out to be his final stint, the veteran had been disconcerted to hear a crunching sound every time he changed gear. ‘I found the gearbox cracking, so I asked Larousse to call Didier to see if he also had gearbox problems,’ recalls Jean-Pierre. ‘Negative’ came the reply. Renault had a dilemma: to allow Jassaud to drive the final stint, risking the continuation of the gearbox issue, or to stick with Didier in spite of his obvious discomfort. Approaching two o’clock, Didier would soon be in for the final handover. Larousse got on the radio:

  ‘Didier, do you hear me?’ A beat.

  ‘Yes, Gerard, I hear you.’ The voice sounded frail. Little wonder. The cockpit was roasting hot. Didier had lost somewhere in the region of eight kilograms, added to which painful cramps shot up and down his legs and arms. The pilot was on the point of exhaustion, a medical condition that on top of severe fatigue, can also entail loss of concentration, nausea and muscular pain. In a few minutes, however, he would coast into the Renault pit for the final time, handing over to Jean-Pierre to complete the final two hours.

  ‘Can you continue? Didier, you must finish the race!’

  Didier’s heart sank. Two more hours! Impossible! Larousse’s voice came over the intercom once more.

  ‘Do you understand? You must go until the en
d. Didier, do you understand?’

  The words sliced right through him. ‘Yes, Gerard. I understand…’ Didier’s voice trailed off.

  Under Le Mans regulations, a driver is permitted to drive a maximum of four hours within any six, not exceeding 14 hours out of the total 24. In the sauna, the young driver steeled himself. He had to hang on. He had to. For Larousse, for Renault, for France, but more importantly for himself. It would be the hardest two hours of his life. Flicking the turbo boost down, it was time for mind over matter.

  At four o’clock, Didier duly took the chequered flag, almost coming to an immediate halt as crowds swamped the car. Only upon opening the bubble did the seriousness of the driver’s condition become apparent. Didier had not the strength to extract himself from the cockpit. Amid the euphoria, two police officers helped lift the hero out of the car. When the young man promptly collapsed on to the stinging hot tarmac, panic ensued. Fortunately, medical help was at hand and Didier soon found himself under medical supervision. Through his exertions, the driver had lost just under ten kilos in weight, Jassaud only three kilos – the average for this gruelling marathon.

  ‘If I had known he was so tired, I would have finished the last turn,’ recalls Jassaud, who had achieved a lifetime’s ambition to win Le Mans.

  Summoning what little strength he had left, Didier was cleared to join his co-driver on the victory podium. Even spraying the champagne took some effort. It mattered not. With this victory, the Tyrrell driver had announced himself on the world stage. Footage of the celebration reveals a podium awash with emotion; 41-year-old Jassaud grinning, having just attained a lifetime’s ambition; Larousse, the most relieved man in the whole of France; and the young hero of the hour, exhausted, stripped to the waist, with nothing left to give. Minutes after the ceremony, Didier passed out again. Hospitalisation would follow.

  A few days later, Eric Lucas dropped by the castle to find a beaming Didier surveying a new Renault R30 in grey – a gift from a very grateful manufacturer. The pair took the notoriously thirsty car out for a spin around the streets of Boissy, always an adventure with Didier in the driving seat! Indeed, just weeks after that historic day at Le Mans, France’s latest sporting superstar would push the limit just that little bit too far. Didier was caught speeding. Rather than imposing the statutory driving ban required under law, magistrates opted for leniency. The hero of France escaped with a fine.

  The fairy tale of Le Mans culminated with a suitably glitzy finale. Sat in the cockpit of their victorious A442, accompanied by an entire media corps, a waving and smiling Didier and Jean-Pierre were towed down the Champs Elysees in the ultimate display of French power. The streets of the capital buzzed with national pride. Waiting for the victors at the Renault museum, a raft of dignitaries, among them Valéry Giscard d’Estaing, president of La Republic. Didier’s legend was assured.

  As for the iconic A442, a supercar with fuel consumption figures to rival those of jumbo jets – 5.5mpg! – like all great race horses, dignified retirement beckoned with an occasional outing for former pilots to reminisce and fans to marvel. For one ex-pilot, the memories of those last, fraught hours driving a car he felt certain would break at any moment came flooding back when he found himself inside the famous ‘bubble’ once more:

  ‘Years later, with this same 442, I drove it on the Goodwood circuit and found the same gearbox problem!’ Nearly 40 years on, Jean-Pierre Jassaud smiles, an octogenarian still able to recall every twist and turn of that unforgettable day.

  With Le Mans at last won, the Regie immediately cancelled their entire sports car programme. All the company’s resources could now be deployed in their quest to conquer F1. François Guiter’s thoughts turned to ’79. Didier would be the ideal driver to join Jabouille in Renault’s expanding Formula 1 team. There was just one problem: the apple of Renault-Elf’s eye had a two-year contract with Tyrrell.

  Thirteen

  School of hard knocks

  Naturally, in the aftermath of La Victoire, Renault and Elf were very keen to consolidate their relationship with Didier. Thanks to his heroics on that historic day in the Sarthe, the profile and appeal of the young driver had risen considerably. So too had the international profiles of manufacturer and oil company; win-win. Suddenly, he was all over the papers and magazines, and the boyish features became recognisable through France and beyond. After his maiden year with Tyrrell, beset by frustrations on both professional and private levels, François Guiter reckoned the time was ripe to elevate the young driver to the works Renault F1 team, an idea welcomed by Didier. For the 1979 season, the Regie were planning to throw everything they had behind their revolutionary 1.5-litre turbocharged car, one currently making steady progress in the right direction up the F1 grid.

  After initially agreeing to ‘sell’ his driver’s contract, Ken Tyrrell reconsidered. Although results had not been forthcoming, the wise old owl sensed that in the young Frenchman, he had a talent on his hands. The second Renault seat eventually went to that man Arnoux. After a bruising introductory season to F1, and with his career hanging in the balance, it was a lifeline that when offered, brought tears to little Rene’s eyes. Didier was gutted.

  Over at Tyrrell the promise of a ground-effect car in the mould of the all-conquering Lotus 79 helped to cheer his spirits a little, even if the wisdom of copying a car that had now clearly been superseded seemed questionable. For better or worse, Didier was set for a second year with uncle Ken. In its current guise, the team from Ockham were a shadow of their former selves however, and their young Frenchman knew it. Renault meanwhile were a team on the move. Bitter pill as it had been to swallow, Didier shook off the disappointment to focus his efforts on the season ahead, one in which in terms of results he knew had to surpass those of his rookie year.

  Now living in an elegant first-floor apartment in Neuilly, Didier and Agnes faced a new life that would only intensify under increased media exposure. France’s new hero was a man in demand. Always attractive to women, entry to the Grand Prix circuit only seemed to compound that allure further. One member of the Argentinian paddock club could not hide her admiration: ‘Didier was an amazing guy, simply amazing.’ The lady in question, still vivacious in her late 50s, declined to elaborate further. As part of the glamorous jet-set world that is Formula 1, temptation lay everywhere, not least on aeroplanes … With the delicate Agnes now acting almost as a secretary-cum-PA to her man, perhaps inevitably, relations between the couple cooled. Twelve years after they had first met, the sheen was fading on what had begun as an adolescent holiday romance. Didier was embarking on what one friend would describe as his ‘playboy’ years. Rich, famous, handsome and in demand, the world was his oyster.

  Back on the racetrack, 1979 looked wide open. Indeed, it would prove to be an unusually competitive season in F1 terms with Ligier, Ferrari and Williams all enjoying various periods of dominance during the year. As for Tyrrell, the team pressed ahead with the Maurice Phillipe-designed 009, a dead ringer for the all-conquering Lotus 79. The addition of the quick but inconsistent Jean-Pierre Jarier to the team helped impart the secrets of ground effect he had picked up in a short stint with Lotus at the back end of ’78. Sleek and prepared to Tyrrell’s usual high standards, the car certainly looked the part. Moreover, it might well have developed into a consistent front-runner had not the team lost its main financial backer, Citibank, at the end of ’78. Going into the new season, Ken’s team found themselves bereft of major sponsorship.

  When the team rolled up in Argentina for the opening race of the season, stripped of sponsorship insignia, the new car looked strangely naked when viewed next to its competitors. Compromise, watchword for a season. The team from Surrey were headed into a season in which budgetary concerns could only restrict potential.

  The season started, however, on a promising note. On a hot Buenos Aires afternoon, an 80,000 crowd watched Jarier cling grimly to Depailler’s leading Ligier in the early stages of the race. Didier’s race had ended within yard
s of the start when he was caught up in somebody else’s accident. After a single kamikaze lap in second place, it soon became apparent that Tyrrell number 4 was holding up a raft of faster cars, a cork in a bottle. Once Watson and Laffite had squeezed past, the floodgates opened. J-P was going backwards, fast. Once again, the team had flattered to deceive.

  Of more concern to Didier were the frequent accidents he began to experience, some technical, others brought about by a young driver forcing too hard, desperate to compensate for his machine’s deficiencies. During practice at South Africa, the young pilot had, in the words of Motorsport, a ‘monumental’ accident while travelling at 150mph. The impact destroyed the front end of the car. Didier escaped with minor bruising and a ‘good migraine’. It would not be the first nor the last time the Tyrrell man would emerge from a potentially serious incident with nothing more worrying than superficial injuries.

  Despite such scares, Didier remained upbeat. ‘The car is on the pace and both cars are evolving the same way,’ he told Auto Hebdo early in the season, fears that he would play second fiddle behind Jarier seemingly allayed. ‘The 009 has great potential, and planned changes which will be effective after Monaco will make it quite competitive and will help to secure a sponsor.’ The 009 had, it seemed, potential, but without funds to develop the car, realising that potential would prove to be virtually impossible.

  Having qualified a career best of P7 in Brazil, Didier steered his car to a superb fourth place behind the rampant Ligiers. When the Lotus of third-placed man Carlos Reutemann was adjudged to have had a push start, he found himself stood on his first F1 podium, gulping water while one of the Coca-Cola promotional girls attached herself to his waist from whence she seemed reluctant to let go. Later, the Argentinian was reinstated to third. Notwithstanding, fourth place seemed to suggest that the team were headed in the right direction. And anyway, Didier had had his first taste of champagne à la F1. He liked it, too. Stood there with Depailler and Laffite, one of three French musketeers glugging champagne on a sultry Rio afternoon, he had looked at home, as if standing on the F1 podium was his natural habitat.