In addition, with Ligier announcing a lucrative new deal with Talbot for 1981, who but the most optimistic of gamblers would have chosen Ferrari over Ligier at this moment in time?
Yet just 48 hours later Didier had made up his mind to do just that.
The moment Jody Scheckter announced his retirement from the sport, the media went into overdrive. Who would take his place at Ferrari? As ever, there was no shortage of candidates, especially among the new wave of Italian racers: Patrese, Giacomelli, Baldi ... ? All the while, the man of Friulian heritage, a fluent Italian speaker, kept his counsel.
Any hopes of either Ligier man competing for the world title had similarly deflated with their flat tyres. After his win at Brands, Alan Jones led the race with 37 points, six ahead of Nelson Piquet. Didier’s total of 23 points put him fourth. The tough Aussie was starting to edge away. In contrast to their French rivals, Frank Williams’ team did not make basic errors. Those 18 points lost from what would have been certain wins in Monaco and Britain had cost the young Frenchman dear. 1980 was slipping away, fast.
Fifteen
The French lieutenant’s Ferrari
Further turmoil arrived that summer when Didier decided to end his 14-year relationship with Agnes. Although there had been ‘blazing rows’ during the Tyrrell years, to most outsiders the couple had seemed happy enough. However, Didier was moving in different circles. Anxious not to hurt the woman who had shared all the highs and lows of the past decade, Didier broke the news as gently as possible. Understandably, Agnes was inconsolable. Over the years, this waiflike young woman had become part of the Pironi-Dolhem family, and especially close to Imelda who comforted the young woman as best she could through some very difficult days.
A bachelor boy – one sitting at the very summit of the world’s most glamorous sport – if Didier enjoyed his new freedom in the months that followed the break-up, he could hardly be blamed. F1’s ‘pretty boy’ had the looks and appeal of a pop star. During that summer, amongst others, he had a brief dalliance with Michelle Thieme, the daughter of Lotus sponsor David Thieme of Essex fame. Shortly after, he would be seen around town in company with a stunningly attractive young woman of flawless complexion and natural elegance, whom he had met the previous year through mutual friends in St Tropez. It had been love at first sight. Didier and Catherine Bleynie became an inseparable item. ‘The apartment at Neuilly already bears marks of her presence,’ notes Imelda in her memoir. Young, blonde and seemingly perfectly suited to one another, the Formula 1 paddock lit up the very moment the golden couple arrived.
On the racetrack, the relentless professionalism of the Williams team allied to the grit and determination of Alan Jones was proving an irresistible combination. The Aussie marched towards a first F1 world crown. Didier’s season would become, in his own words, one of ‘missed opportunities’. Frustratingly, with a little more in the way of organisation, the Frenchman knew he could have easily been a genuine world championship contender in 1980. Fate dictated otherwise.
Thoughts of world championships were banished completely, however, on the first day of August. At noon that day Didier answered a call from a journalist who questioned him about his great buddy Patrick Depailler – a not untypical scenario and thus Didier was happy to speak about his fondness for Patrick, his reactions to the hang-gliding crash of the previous year and his thoughts on his friend’s return to F1 with Alfa. ‘Your friend has been killed in a test at Hockenheim,’ blurted the journalist and with that bombshell put the receiver down. Didier was stunned. Such was the shock, he turned to tranquillisers. Patrick was a true friend, one who had gladly helped the young man navigate his way through the often-choppy F1 waters of Tyrrell. Heartbroken, Didier immediately liaised with the unfortunate driver’s wife. Having made arrangements for repatriation of the body, he then flew to Clermont Ferrand to pick up the grieving widow en route for the sombre onward journey to Hockenheim.
Although it would become fashionable in some circles to label Didier as ‘cold’ and ‘unemotional’, his actions in the aftermath of the Depailler tragedy proved he was anything but.
So just who was Didier Pironi?
Racer, playboy, philosopher, even by 1980 the Pironi legend was already growing apace. Grand Prix International had posed such a question in its Belgian GP edition: Who is Didier Pironi, a demon or an angel? The magazine was not alone in its musings. Others too had noticed incongruities aplenty. On the one hand there was the softly spoken, impeccably mannered Parisian, a young man of education and sophistication, a polyglot who studied astronomy and in his spare time cultivated his beloved orchids. On the other, there was the individual who once inside the cockpit of his car, would become uncompromising, confrontational, almost warlike in bearing. Jekyll and Hyde. A total transformation.
‘Didier Pironi is a man of contrast, paradoxes even,’ wrote Johnny Rives for Sport-Auto in June that year. The writer marvelled at how a man with ‘weightlifter deltoids’ could at the same time display such a ‘boyish smile’; how an adult with such a ‘serious’ nature could also delight in ‘childish pranks’; how a driver who demonstrated such ‘strength’ on a dry track could so effortlessly switch and become ‘subtle and elegant’ on a wet track. Pironi: a mystery, an enigma.
Never more so was the enigmatic nature of his character on show than at Hockenheim in late summer.
Procar was the intriguing title given to an unprecedented motor racing challenge that bloomed for a couple of glorious years between 1979 and 1980. In this series, held at European circuits, top sports car and Formula 1 drivers would compete in identical 3.5-litre BMW M1 saloon cars, in what amounted to a Grand Prix entrée. A generous prize fund ensured the attention of the F1 boys. The format dictated that the top five qualifiers from Friday’s practice would automatically line up in Sunday’s Procar race. These shortish sprints were always eagerly contested. As in F1, points were awarded and a ‘Procar champion’ declared at season’s end. Although billed as a bit if fun, races were anything but. The wheel-to-wheel racing that invariably characterised the series made it hugely popular among fans and drivers alike.
As one of the fastest Friday qualifiers at the German Grand Prix weekend, Didier had earned himself a place in Saturday’s Hockenheim support race. Then the fun began.
Reflecting on this weird and wonderful format some years later, Alan Henry would call the 1980 Hockenheim Procar race, in which Didier was to play such a central role, his most ‘vivid’ memory of the entire series. With good reason.
After qualifying, Didier had his M1 up at the sharp end of the grid. A lone Frenchman surrounded by a glut of local heroes – Schurti, Stuck, Danner and Heyer amongst others, it seemed as if he was up against the whole of Germany on this day. It was the Swiss driver Marc Surer though who took the fight to Didier initially. But the Ligier man was in no mood for compromise. Whenever the Swiss showed intent, he found the door firmly slammed in his face. Forced to brake harder than he liked on more than one occasion, Surer slipped back to be replaced by a trio of German sports-car drivers each determined to put the surly Frenchman in his place. Cheered on by a lively crowd, Stuck, Heyer and Schurti shadowed the leading M1, but Didier grimly repelled their attacks, causing Stuck to take an excursion in the Hockenheim mud. Agitated, the crowd showed their displeasure. So too did Stuck.
At the end of the race, steam pouring out of his ears, the former Brabham driver sought out his French nemesis. Didier had scrambled home a second in front of Schurti with a recovering Stuck in third. ‘Muscular’ was the term most commonly used to describe his performance and even that might arguably have been tinged with understatement. True enough, he had certainly taken no prisoners out there. Stuck was incensed. The German caught up with a nonchalant Frenchman.
Back to Henry and his most ‘vivid’ memory:
‘Stuck uncoiled his six-foot frame from the confined cockpit of his M1 to unleash a furiously vocal critique of Pironi's driving straight to the Frenchman's face,’ recalled the
writer. ‘“Hanschen” was visibly quivering with rage, but Pironi just faced him down with that impassive stare which he’d made his hallmark.’ Henry was one of several F1 journalists to witness the icy control of the victor, the more impressive given the highly provocative manner of Stuck’s address: ‘Didier, quite frankly, couldn’t have cared less.’21 Here was that same imperturbable boy who had not even flinched under his mother’s thrashings all those years ago. They did not come any cooler than Pironi.
More drama followed on Sunday in the Grand Prix proper. Not for the first time, early doors and Jacques’ car looked demonstrably the quicker of the two Ligiers. Were the team-mates driving equitable cars? It did not look that way. As the leaders pressed ahead, Didier appeared to be holding his team-mate up. After just a handful of laps, Laffite slid past into fourth place, waving an angry fist out of his cockpit as he completed the manoeuvre. Though he would ultimately take his first and only win of the year, happy Jacques he most certainly was not:
‘Pironi kept me behind illegally for more than a lap, even though he was slower, and it made me lose contact with those who were ahead. He is an immature boy.’
Nevertheless, Guy Ligier promptly offered contracts to both men for 1981. To ensure Didier’s signature, Le Patron offered a substantially improved financial package. Didier hesitated. In his mind, he had already committed himself to Ferrari. Still, he was intrigued to see how far Guy would go to retain his services. Not far enough. When the boss announced on that same Sunday evening that the team would be focusing all their efforts (and resources) on Jacques for the remainder of the season, misgivings he had since the beginning of the season crystallised.
The last third of 1980 saw Ligier lurch from one crisis to another. With their Gallic flair and buccaneering spirit epitomised by the iconic gypsy motif of their Gitanes sponsors, Guy’s squad had always been a vibrant addition to the F1 paddock. However, in F1, it is pragmatism, not romanticism, that wins prizes. From their positions at the head of the field, the blues started to slip backwards à la ’79. A season of two halves.
Will Pironi join Ferrari? There was only one question in the motor racing press as summer turned to autumn. Some newspapers such as Italy’s La Stampa sincerely hoped not: Pironi and Villeneuve in the same team, the paper cautioned, would be like ‘two roosters in a hen house…’
But Didier knew better. The Ferrari pre-agreement, signed as long ago as March, had provided him with both security and options. The deteriorating situation at Ligier merely confirmed that decision. Thus, his transfer to Ferrari was officially announced on Monday, 15 September, the day after the Italian Grand Prix, news that disappointed the hopes of any number of young drivers, most notably those of McLaren’s Alain Prost. Enzo Ferrari made the announcement in front of a packed media room. Why had he plumped for the French driver?
‘I am a sensitive person,’ replied the great man from behind his trademark dark glasses, ‘and I trust my emotions. Pironi has impressed me and many people have told me he’s a smart guy.’ Some journalists seemed unconvinced. ‘You tell me I have a fixation on Pironi, I answer you that I am simply objective.’
The grand old man paused.
‘I have to take you into a little confidence. There is also a sentimental reason. Didier is a native of Friuli and I have Friuli in my heart …’ For a brief moment, Ferrari’s voice wavered. ‘Just a few years ago, a team from this region have worked with marble slabs to reconstruct the grave of my son Dino, which vile people have devastated. I will never forget their altruism and generosity.’
When quizzed over the potential difficulties of housing two superstar drivers in his stable, the 82-year-old could not have known just how prophetic his words would turn out to be: ‘Ferrari does not need a second pilot, but only men who can go fast. If they are combative, and their antagonism is damaging for the team, then we will intervene.’
The atmosphere was light. With the signing of the French hussar, the old man believed he had the best two drivers in the world.
‘No, they have not found anything in my head,’ joked Villeneuve when attention turned to the drivers. Ferrari’s current superstar driver had just returned from a hospital visit for a head scan after a testing shunt in Imola. Everybody laughed. ‘As for Pironi, I think Ferrari has made a wrong choice…’ The Canadian did not elaborate any further.
When it came to his turn, Didier, ‘elegant and smiling’ in the words of La Stampa, delighted and surprised the assembled media by answering their questions in fluent Italian. Who even knew he could do that? Always full of surprises, Pironi: ‘I am naturally happy to have arrived in Maranello, because I know I’m in the best team. Even if Ferrari at this time are not so strong, I am certain that they will return to the top.’ The hacks hung upon his every word. It seemed the new driver had made a very favourable impression upon the journalists. ‘It was an investment,’ he explained when discussing the tricky issue of contracts and money. ‘I did not have a rich engagement, but if I win races the money will come in abundance.’
On hearing the news, Guy Ligier had an epic meltdown. Despite the many difficulties of this rollercoaster season, he desperately wanted Didier on board for ’81. Ligier tried one final pitch. Too little, too late. Monsieur Le Patron had lost his dashing French lieutenant.
‘I wanted to be on an equal footing with Jacques Laffite. That means an equal car, the same money, and more than anything, the same psychological backing.’ Didier was clear about his reasons for leaving the French stable and reacted with uncharacteristic irritation to accusations that he had broken an agreement with his employer: ‘I never verbally agreed to drive for Guy. I simply said I would drive for him if certain conditions were met. They weren’t, so I left.’ 22
The 1980 season was fizzling out. At the penultimate race of the year in Montreal there was nothing Didier could do about Piquet and Jones, who pulled effortlessly away from the Ligier, enacting a thrilling duel for the world championship. Even Giacomelli’s Alfa loomed large in his mirrors. Somehow, Ligier had lost their magic formula. Later, when Jones let the French car through to the lead, he did so in the knowledge that Didier was carrying a time penalty. Its clutch threatening to melt, car number 25 had moved forward a fraction of a second before the green light had signalled the start of the race, hence the penalty. Although Didier crossed the line in first place, a 60-second penalty dropped him to third overall. A bitter disappointment.
His only comment: ‘The least I can say, for a fault so common, the penalty was severe and hardly consistent.’ There, the matter dropped. Being demonstrative never was his style.
Although he was relieved to be leaving L’equipe Francais, Didier genuinely regretted the way his Ligier career had ended. Ultimately, his status as second driver had compromised his season. On that basis alone he had to move on: ‘Jacques has too much power, everything revolves around him.’ Depailler had uttered just such criticisms a little over 12 months earlier.
At the final race of the year at Watkins Glen, his mechanics attached the Ferrari prancing horse emblem to his steering wheel. Lionel and the crew were sad he was leaving. What ought to have been the start of a beautiful partnership had become rather ugly, tetchy. Fifth place in the final world championship standings was an underachievement and the driver knew it. Didier’s tally of 32 points represented neither his own potential nor that of the JS11/15. Six retirements, including those fateful races at Brands and Monaco when victory had been assured, had conspired to undermine his season.
His final run in a Ligier occurred in novel circumstances. Just Jaeckin, the flamboyant director of the infamous Emmanuelle films, had been commissioned to direct an episode of the sports-themed television drama series Salut Champion. Episode 12 would be set in the intoxicating world of Formula 1. Thus, the show’s producers arranged to film their motor racing sequences with the Ligier team.
In the episode, dedicated to the memory of Patrick Depailler, to a press fanfare, the fictional F1 team of Brabant announce the
re-entry to F1 of ace driver Joel Pasquier, whose glittering career had been cut short by … a serious boating accident! A career interrupted by serious injury, a return to Grand Prix racing following a period of convalescence, the struggle to re-establish himself in the top echelons of the sport he loved, accidents at sea … Had the scriptwriter been gazing into a crystal ball when he had penned this script? Omens and portents – never far from the surface of a life far from ordinary.
Once upon a time at Paul Ricard, a strange vision had sought Didier out predicting glory but also death by fire for the young driver. Now a television scriptwriter had conjured up a plot of pure fiction that would foreshadow future events with disturbing accuracy. Coincidence? Perhaps. Perhaps not.
Little wonder the press and the Formula 1 community in general had always wondered about the French ace. Whispers surrounding his background had always circulated on the F1 grapevine and the gossip pages. So, just who was Didier Pironi? It was a question nobody seemed able to answer, journalists and competitors alike.
1980 ended with trips to Italy and Australia. On 15 October, ten days after the US Grand Prix, he journeyed to Maranello for a symbolic test drive of the disappointing T5 at Ferrari’s Fiorano test track. Naturally, the Italian media turned up in large numbers. New additions to the scarlet team are, and always have been, front-page news in Italy. With his Italian surname, fluent language skills not to mention his Friulian heritage, Didier found himself the object of some curiosity. Had the Scuderia finally found an ‘Italian’ champion to drive their scarlet cars?
Didier completed 65 laps in the T5. His best lap time of 1’09.72 proved to be just under a second off the track record. He might have looked odd, still clad in his blue Ligier overalls, but he felt very much at home in the scarlet enclave. Enzo Ferrari declared himself more than satisfied with proceedings. Il Commendatore then went on to pay his latest recruit the ultimate compliment when comparing him to the legendary Italian racer Count Felice Trossi, aka ‘Didi’. A gentleman racer of great talent and charisma, like Didier, Trossi was a speed freak, racing cars, boats and aeroplanes – anything with an engine. Tragically, the aristocrat’s life was cut short by illness. After decades searching, in the Franco-Italian Enzo Ferrari seemed to believe he had found a latter-day Trossi, a swashbuckler who just like his late friend, exuded class and finesse. In Signor Ferrari’s eyes, Didier would always simply be ‘Didi’.
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