Pironi

by David Sedgwick

  Three races into the season, however, the midnight-blue cars were still searching for sponsorship. Talks with drinks company Martini had not progressed. Lack of funds meant lack of testing. Ken was running his team on a shoestring. The team would thus fight the majority of their battles in midfield, fighting against perennial also-rans such as Arrows and Fittipaldi, nowhere near what Didier had envisaged.

  By the time the teams arrived in Monaco for round seven however, Didier had taken his first legitimate podium after a third-place finish in Zolder. On their day, Tyrrell had a squeak of a chance of finishing in the top three, even if victory was out of the question. The 009 might have been an improvement on the 008, but any improvements were offset by the advances made by their rivals.

  Fresh from his third place in Belgium, and with a fine pedigree around the famous streets of the Principality including that famous F3 win in ’77, Didier arrived in a hopeful mood. Monaco was a playground, one in which this sophisticated young man felt entirely at home.

  On Friday’s ‘rest’ day, the pilot invited some of the Tyrrell crew for a ride on his powerboat moored in the harbour. These powerful ‘Formula 1s of the sea’ had always held a fascination. There was something in the brute power of these craft and their unpredictable handling characteristics that appealed to the risk-taker in Didier. Taming one of these monsters was a challenge to be relished. Didier led a small group of Tyrrell mechanics along with Jarier down to the harbour where his Lamborghini-powered ‘cigarette’ awaited. Tyrrell mechanic Steve Leyshon takes up the story:

  ‘And what a boat! I was used to skiing behind Fletcher Arrow or Shakespeare speedboats, not a 20-odd foot cigarette with Lamborghini engines! We left the harbour in the appropriate manner – slowly, then when we hit the open water it was a different matter. The water was generally very calm – mill pond if you like. So, in order to create some excitement, Didier carried out some very large turns at speed – we didn't go slow after we left the safety of the harbour. Having created a “non” calm environment he proceeded to cut across the waves he generated. This enabled him to demonstrate (a) his boat control – which was as you would expect considerable – and (b) the lack of suspension on his toy!! Didier allowed all of us to have a turn at driving. That to us meant he was either very generous or brave – the jury’s still out on that one!’

  The one abiding memory shared by associates and colleagues alike of Didier is indeed his generosity of spirit. The young Frenchman liked nothing more than entertaining friends on land, sea or air, whether in boat, plane or car. It was not just white-knuckle rides in the bay of St Tropez; Didier always took care of the mechanics. Forty years after it was presented, one ex-Tyrrell man still has the bottle of aftershave the young driver gave him in recognition for his hard work: ‘Best of all, after all these years it still smells nice too!’

  The party eventually made it back to the harbour: ‘Jarier brought the boat home with Didier sitting right at the front of the boat with his legs either side hanging over the edge! And Jarier wasn’t in the habit of driving anything slowly!’ Shaken and not a little stirred, Steve Leyshon and the Tyrrell crew went straight back to the race transporter to prepare the cars for Friday’s practice. ‘It does not get any better than that, a weekend to remember!’

  When Didier qualified in seventh place, the weekend started to look even brighter. The Tyrrell driver was less than a second away from Jody Scheckter’s pole-winning Ferrari. If he could make a good start in Sunday’s race, anything was possible, perhaps even victory.

  The Tyrrell pilot certainly had the bit between his teeth this May weekend. While the Ferraris of Villeneuve and Scheckter ran away at the head of the field, Didier found himself handily placed behind the previously dominant Ligiers, who were undeniably being held up by Lauda’s obstinate Brabham-Alfa in third position. Anxious to chase after the Ferraris, and suffering from the kind of frustration unique to Monte Carlo, Didier would encounter both the Gitanes-sponsored cars within a few laps, Laffite obliged to pit while Depailler dropped right out of contention following separate brushes with the Tyrrell. ‘Didier behaved very badly,’ growled Jacques later. ‘He’s a very silly boy.’ Frustration increasing by the lap, Didier had nudged both Ligier cars with the result that the race of both blue and white cars had been compromised. Patience is a virtue in life and, very often in motorsport, especially at Monte Carlo. Unperturbed, the Tyrrell driver pressed on. Besides, the 009 was working well on the street circuit, handling the bumps, slow corners and short straights better than at any race in the season so far. Didier sensed a result.

  The manner in which the Tyrrell proceeded to attach itself to Lauda’s Brabham suggested he might be right. For several laps, Didier menaced the great Austrian. Ahead lay only the two Ferraris, but the gap was increasing. Somehow he had to clear Lauda; then and only then could the chase of the Italian cars begin.

  Such were his thoughts on lap 22 as the Brabham and Tyrrell came hurtling through Casino Square together and down the bumpy Mirabeau section towards the right-hander. Preparing for the corner, Niki edged to the left. A gap! The Tyrrell shot down the inside. Bang! The blue car was launched into the air, smashing into the guardrail with some force before finally coming to rest. The force of the impact threw the poor steward stationed at the corner some distance backwards. Didier wriggled out of the cockpit and slumped down behind the barrier. When F1 cars fly, the landing is very rarely of the smooth variety.

  ‘I saw an opening to pass and Niki was much slower than me. He had slowed dramatically,’ reported a shaken driver. ‘When I arrived in the middle of his Brabham, however, it was so tight I could no longer avoid hitting him.’ The young driver had decided to ‘send one up the inside’, a move that always requires the full co-operation of the guy in front.

  Lauda saw things differently: ‘I was travelling quietly in third position, not forcing it, setting the ideal line for the corner when I saw, almost side by side, on my inside Pironi. I could not do anything and the Frenchman crashed into me. At that moment I no longer understood anything.’

  A ‘racing incident’ then, one in which the young Tyrrell driver took the lion’s share of the blame. Ready to mix it up with the big guns, certainly there was an urgency about Didier that afternoon. F1 wisdom is gained, as in any professional sport, not without some hiccups along the way. Scheckter eventually took the win. Considering Clay Regazzoni’s surprise second place for Williams, the runner-up spot had been there for the taking. A lesson learnt.

  Shortly after this eventful weekend Didier’s old Tyrrell mucker and daredevil par excellence, Patrick Depailler, smashed his legs in a hang-gliding accident in the Massif Central. Patrick was lucky to survive the fall. Given that his Ligier contract specifically forbade participation in dangerous sports, current boss Guy Ligier was not best pleased. Although Jacky Ickx was drafted into the team, a vacancy had just arisen in a front-running team, a French one too …

  Although he had settled in well at Tyrrell after the initial culture shock, Didier was not immune to interest from other teams and plenty of attention was being paid to the young French ace.

  On a personal level, Didier and Ken were getting along fine: ‘Relations between Ken and I are a little like those of a father and son,’ Didier told Auto Hebdo. ‘When I arrived in the team, they dictated to me and did not ask my opinion. I was pretty disappointed. But I now think Ken intended this course of action and he was right.’ Eighteen months on, Didier trusted Tyrrell completely. When his employer vetoed a possible Le Mans return with Porsche, Didier accepted the decision without too much fuss. Ken had heard all about Le Mans and did not want a repeat of ’78. He needed a fully fit driver, one whose focus was entirely on F1. Moreover, with Elf no longer sponsoring the team, there would be no outside pressure to release the driver.

  The year wore on. Disconcertingly, early pacesetters Ligier slipped gradually back into the field as Ferrari and Williams came to the fore. As for Tyrrell, the team remained in mid-pack. Despite th
e arrival of some welcome funds from Italian engineering company Candy, the 009 would continue to suffer from a chronic lack of investment. The second half of Didier’s season would be one of unfulfilled promise punctuated by a catalogue of worrying incidents.

  One of the most serious occurred at Dijon during practice for the French Grand Prix. Going into Courbe de Pouas, the sweeping final corner that leads on to the home straight, heading for a potential place on the front two rows, the Tyrrell flew off the circuit into the catch fencing. The front end of the car was mashed, prompting Motorsport to declare that only by a ‘miracle’ had the driver ‘escaped totally unscathed’. The impact of the crash split the Tyrrell chassis in half! Such accidents spooked the driver no end. Rear suspension failure in the race compounded his insecurities even further. After an off Ken Tyrrell would always be the first person to apologise to the driver, but it was all wearing a little thin. Didier was now expecting to have accidents.

  Misgivings aside, when Ken offered a new contract for 1980 on improved terms in the shape of an enhanced performance bonus, Didier readily accepted. By the time the teams had assembled in Montreal in late September for the penultimate race of the season, agreement had all but been reached – at least verbally. Certainly, Ken Tyrrell was anxious to secure Didier’s services for the forthcoming season. As the months had passed, the woodcutter had warmed to the young Parisian, impressed by not only his speed, but moreover the driver’s calm, methodical approach to racing. After an accident, Didier simply brushed himself down and started all over again. No drama, no hysterics and absolutely no accusations. Ken appreciated that.

  Nevertheless, from inside his room at Montreal’s Regency Hyatt hotel, Didier was considering his options. Tyrrell was not the only team manager eyeing the Frenchman. Colin Chapman, Bernie Ecclestone and Guy Ligier were rumoured to be monitoring developments. Not that the rumours unduly disturbed Ken Tyrrell, who had shaken hands on the agreement with his drive and thus considered the matter closed. So when Ken received a letter over breakfast on the Thursday before the race, the team owner was taken aback. In the letter, Didier expressed his resolve to seek his future elsewhere. As far as he was concerned, the apprenticeship was over. It was time to win races, to challenge for championships, optimistic if not plain fantasy with his current team. As ever, Agnes it was who acted as messenger, going back and forwards between rooms, surreptitiously slipping a series of notes under the door of Ken’s hotel room.

  Qualifying a season-best sixth on the grid, Didier would steer his car into a solid fifth place come race end behind a couple of Williamses and Ferraris, a highly commendable performance given the superiority of those cars. Ken Tyrrell’s anxiety was understandable: in Pironi, he had a young charger, a driver capable of extracting the maximum from his limited equipment. After the race, the two men sat down to discuss the situation. Ken outlined his ambitious plans for the 010, the team’s challenger for the 1980 season. Didier listened. Suitably impressed, the two men shook hands. Back in his hotel room, the driver reflected on the promises made: could the team really make the gigantic step from midfield to front-runners? Ken seemed to think so. Didier was not so sure. Late on Sunday evening, Agnes was once again heading for Ken’s room, where she softly pushed a final note under the boss’s door, one that had been composed a few days earlier but had been kept back. After careful consideration, Didier had decided to resign after all.

  Early on Monday morning before he set off to Montreal airport, Didier received a plaintive, even doleful reply from his employer: ‘It was a shock to receive your letter stating that you did not wish to drive for me in 1980,’ wrote Ken, reminding his driver that agreement had been reached with ‘a handshake’. Hailing from a school that considered a gentleman’s word to be his bond, to Ken, handshakes were much more than symbolic gestures as he made clear further on in his letter: ‘I trust there is some misunderstanding that can be cleared up, but I must warn you that I consider our agreement to be legally binding …’

  It was not the first time in F1 history nor would it be the last whereupon a talent had been incubated by a small fish only to be lured away by a bigger species. At the dawn of a new decade, the F1 pecking order was changing. Newer teams such as Ligier, Renault and Williams were usurping the old order of Tyrrell, McLaren and Lotus. Upon returning from Canada, Didier set up a meeting with Guy Ligier.

  Third position in the season finale at Watkins Glen provided further evidence of the young charge’s progress. Speculation mounted that Didier was about to become part of an ‘Equipe Nationale’ with Guy Ligier’s talented but frustratingly inconsistent team based at Vichy.

  When Didier therefore signed for Ligier on 26 November in Paris, F1’s worst-kept secret was finally out. The relatively modest 100,000-franc retainer suggested the desire for a competitive machine far outweighed any pecuniary interests. The pilot wanted not merely to compete, but to win. In Guy Ligier’s team of swashbucklers, he had his wish. The late 70s/early 80s would see the French team enjoying the most competitive period of their history, regularly challenging for race victories. OK, after a bright start to the 1979 season the team had lost its way somewhat, but general wisdom suggested that if Les Bleues could overcome some organisational issues, then Guy’s boys had the potential to become genuine world championship contenders. There was just the usual issue of hierarchies to sort out. Before his accident, Depailler had refused to extend his contract, citing what he perceived to be Ligier’s preferential treatment towards team-mate Jacques Laffite as his reason. Patrick had no desire to play second fiddle and so had already decided to seek pastures new. Having had similar experiences himself – most notably with Arnoux and ironically Patrick – Didier sought assurances from Ligier and his chief designer Gerard Ducarouge. Parity assured, Didier agreed to sign. Pironi and Ligier; it seemed a perfect match.

  Christmas celebrations that year centred around a family gathering chez Didier and Agnes. The family descended on Chantenay. Guy Ligier and Jacques Laffite joined the family to toast the future. The next day Didier set out with his mother and aunt en route to Paris. It was late and a thick winter fog hung over this part of central France. Passing the Magny-Court circuit in all its dark tranquillity, skirting the town of Nevers, the party joined the national road that would lead them all the way up to the southern outskirts of Paris. A two-and-a-half-hour journey lay ahead. Nothing stirred.

  It all happened in a spilt second: the impact and the windscreen shattering into a thousand pieces, then the fear, the shock, the disbelief. There had been no time to react.

  From out of the gloomy darkness, a figure had stepped out on to the highway into Didier’s path, a ghostly spectre unseen, unheard, unknown. The figure had been tossed into the air like a skittle. Miraculously, the party escaped serious injury although Imelda suffered a perforated eye, fractured wrist and broken tooth, pain enough. Profoundly shocked, Didier ran to the victim’s aid. It was too late. The unfortunate man had died on impact.

  Deeply distressed, the party groped and stumbled its way back along the highway through the dank night air. Eventually, the bright, familiar logo of Elf pierced the gloom. Upon reaching the petrol station, Didier cleaned his mother’s bloody face and called Agnes who arrived minutes later. Imelda was taken to the nearest hospital at Nevers where doctors treated her wounds. Later that night an ambulance transferred her to the emergency department of the Hôtel Dieu, Paris where she underwent surgery to preserve her sight. The victim it transpired was a homeless vagrant who, under the influence of alcohol, had stepped out into the road oblivious to the danger.

  1979 had ended on a ghastly note. Wherever he went, whatever he did, danger and drama were never far away. If there are such things as jinxes and curses, could such an affliction have been shadowing a young man who, up until this point, had lived such a charmed existence?

  Fourteen

  Royal hussar

  Oil and water, the sometimes tentative and at times fractious relationship between Didier and a team
owner in Guy Ligier whose operating temperature was either volcanic or iceberg cool – with little in between – would come to define an entire season. Small, squat and pugnacious, ex-international rugby player Ligier had a well-earned reputation for outbursts quite unsurpassed in the F1 pit lane. Fiery tantrums were the norm chez Ligier. How then would Le Patron get along with a driver renowned for uber cool detachment? A clash of temperaments. Could these opposites attract?

  As in ’79, Ligier hit the ground running at the start of 1980. Following extensive wind tunnel testing at Saint Cyr – a luxury that had been restricted at Tyrrell – the JS11/15 had benefitted from improved road-holding and aerodynamics. Resplendent in the iconic livery of the Gitanes cigarette brand, if the blue and white machine replete with red trim went as well as it looked, 1980 could be a season to remember. Optimism abounded at Vichy.

  The team thus arrived in Buenos Aires for the opening race of the season quietly confident. Yet as with so many races in 1980, the Argentine Grand Prix promised much, but would ultimately deliver little. Nonetheless, on Saturday evening the mood in the garage was upbeat. On his debut for the team, Didier had qualified in third, one place behind team leader Laffite. Only the Williams of Alan Jones was faster. So, was the Ligier a better car than the Tyrrell? ‘Better brakes, better steering, better handling, better traction…’ Oui!

  The blue and white cavaliers made a good start to the race, and for a brief moment, Didier was looking to relieve his team-mate of second place. Just as he was harrying Jacques, the Ford engine started to misbehave. His race was effectively over before a single lap had been run. Sadly, it would not be an isolated incident, rather a portent of things to come. Laffite meanwhile hung in there fighting for positon with Piquet’s Brabham and the second Williams car of Reutemann. Clearly, the JS11/15 had bags of speed. However, did it have stamina? The million-dollar question. Laffite’s race would also end in retirement. Jones took the win with something to spare.