Events leading up to the race are not entirely clear, but it seems that the Renault and Ferrari drivers met to formulate a mutually beneficial race strategy. Although the precise location of the meeting is subject to some dispute – some reports suggest a restaurant in Imola, others the Ferrari motorhome – the upshot of the encounter is not disputed.33 Aware that fuel consumption could play a potentially crucial role on the day, the drivers agreed not to race for position until after the halfway point had been reached, after which the spoils would be up for grabs. It was an eminently sensible agreement. After all, with the FOCA teams not in play, one thing was certain: either Renault or Ferrari would win. If, however, the red and yellow turbocharged quartet went hammer and tongs from the green light, the chances of fuel consumption issues could only increase. Turbo engines – fragile at the best of times – could become compromised and the possibility of non-finishes increase. Furthermore, despite its infancy, Imola had earned itself a reputation as F1’s thirstiest circuit. Prost, Arnoux, Villeneuve and Pironi all agreed: after half distance, the gloves would come off.
Muddying the picture further is a comment some years later by Ferrari’s chief mechanic Paolo Scamarelli.34 In the event of both Renaults retiring, according to Scamarelli, it had been agreed that whichever Ferrari happened to be leading at that time would run unchallenged to the end. Oddly, for a claim with such profound implications for what followed, it is one that has never been repeated, not even by Gilles, who would surely have been the first to recall such a clear-cut instruction.
Forty thousand fans turning up for Saturday’s practice quelled any fears that a depleted field might negatively affect the event’s appeal, and how. Renault and Ferrari battled it out for the fastest times. As expected, the turbo-powered cars were considerably faster than their non-turbo powered rivals headed by Alboreto (Tyrrell) and De Cesaris and Giacomelli (Alfa Romeo).
Didier’s practice days ended in frustration and disappointment. Approaching Acque Minerali towards the end of Friday’s session, about to set his fastest time, the 126C2 suddenly went off into the barriers. It was a big shunt, his third such incident in this troublesome year. ‘I felt a collapse of my right rear suspension,’ recounted Didier. ‘I tried to correct my trajectory but there was nothing I could do.’ Technicians attributed the crash to a right rear tyre, which had burst without warning. No option but to use the spare car. Sometimes disparagingly referred to as the ‘mule’, as the name implies spare cars often lacked the finesse and attention lavished on the team’s race cars. The ‘mule’ did the dirty work. Any chances of challenging the Renaults or his team-mate for pole had effectively ended. Indeed, out of the entire 14-car field, Didier was the only driver unable to improve his time during Saturday’s qualifying session. In the team garage Ferrari’s mechanics worked frantically to renovate the car that Didier had crashed the previous day, but time was against them. Didier was stuck with the mule. It was doubly disappointing for the Frenchman. Only a few days ago he had set a new lap record for the Imola circuit.
Although often overlooked, this unfortunate turn of events for the driver of Ferrari number 28 is in fact a crucially important element when it comes to interpreting the controversy that would soon follow. With minutes to go before the end of the session, Ferrari declared Didier’s car ready. Too late. The Frenchman was 1.3 seconds slower than his team-mate.
Thus the grid was settled. Two yellow and white cars (Arnoux and Prost) at the front, with the two scarlet cars sitting right behind:
Arnoux
1’29.765 Prost
1’30.249
Villeneuve
1’30.717 Pironi
1’32.020
Based purely on qualifying form, Renault had this in the bag. Of more significance perhaps were the times from the 30-minute warm-up session on Sunday morning which told an altogether different story:
Pironi 1’35.036
Villeneuve 1’35.136
Arnoux 1’35.313
Prost 1’37.734
In race trim, Ferrari it appeared had a slight edge over their French rivals. Practice woes behind him, and back in his own car, Didier had been finally able to show his true speed. Nearly three seconds off the pace, Alain Prost’s time suggested all was not well with his Renault – more evidence that warm-up rather than qualifying times were more representative of actual pace.
On a sunny but windy day an estimated 100,000 spectators made their way to the Dino Ferrari circuit. The absence of the FOCA teams had seemingly not dampened the public’s appetite for the event. As the start time approached, four turbo and ten normally aspirated cars took up their places on an uncharacteristically empty starting grid. Formula 1 was about to witness arguably one of its most contentious ever races.
At the lights, the turbo foursome all made good starts. Thus, into the first corner, Arnoux led from Prost, Villeneuve and Pironi. Renault’s joy was, however, short-lived. Confirming his warm-up problems, Prost was unhappy though hardly surprised to find his engine misbehaving even before a single lap had been completed. First Gilles and then Didier slipped past the sickly French car. Four became three. Blisteringly quick in a straight line, by the end of the first lap Arnoux had already pulled out several lengths over the scarlet cars. Catching the little Frenchman was clearly not going to be easy. Were the remaining three drivers mindful of the pact they had made just days ago? Take it easy until half distance, no heroics, then the real race would begin? Perhaps. One thing was certain: Rene was not hanging around.
Later, Gilles would claim that had he wanted to, he could easily have left his French team-mate behind in a cloud of dust at Imola. ‘I could have given him (Pironi) a couple of laps,’ Gilles would tell the media after the event, going on to cite the 1.3-second gap he established in qualifying as evidence. However, as already noted, the 1.3-second gap had materialised due to a set of extraordinary circumstances which in no way reflected Didier’s true race pace. Nonetheless, for a partisan media, the 1.3-second gap struck a chord. It was all the evidence needed to confirm that Gilles had been the faster of the two Ferrari drivers, and by some margin. Ergo, the faster driver should win the race.
Yet as Villeneuve honed in on the leading Renault, Didier was sticking right with him, the gap never more than three seconds between the two men. Far from dropping the number 28 car, Didier seemed able to maintain a similar pace to that of the sister Ferrari. Just as the warm-up times had indicated, in race trim there was little if anything between the scarlet cars. Even so, the supposed disparity in speed between the Ferrari mavericks has become part of Imola mythology, a soundbite repeated ad infinitum and one upon which many opinions have been based, erroneously so.
As a spectacle, the race was warming up nicely. To the delight of the packed grandstands now witnessing a thrilling three-way duel for the lead, Villeneuve was soon sizing up the very swift-in-a-straight-line Renault, confirmation once more of the veracity of the warm-up times. While the red cars seemed to have better speed in the corners, such was the power generated by the French car’s awesome V6 engine, the Renault pulled away on the straights. On lap 22, Didier signalled his own intent when slipping by his team-mate into second place only for Gilles to retake the place a few laps later. At this stage, it looked as if the red cars were taking turns to have a crack at the yellow and black car out front. The peace pact, such as it had been, appeared to have ended. The gloves had definitely come off.
Gaining a run at the Renault as the leading trio approached Tosa, Gilles slipstreamed into the lead a few hundred yards later. Lap 30, half distance, a red-yellow-red turbo-charged train flashed across the start-finish line nudging 190mph. A few corners later, Rene powered past Gilles to retake the lead as Didier audaciously attempted to leapfrog both cars. With the Renault the meat in a Ferrari sandwich, the leading trio entered the hairpin three abreast. For a brief moment, it looked as if Didier’s gambit had come off, but a couple of corners later Ferrari number 28 was back in third place! F1 had not seen anything like this for quite s
ome time. As the Ferraris squabbled over second place, Arnoux managed to pull out a few car lengths over his scarlet tormentors. Even at this stage of the race, it seemed clear that Villeneuve and Pironi were battling for position – and battling hard, all of which makes subsequent claims even harder to justify. Indeed, such was the intensity of their struggle they soon cruised up again behind the Renault’s gearbox.
Over the course of the next few laps the Ferraris swapped places on two more occasions, each time catapulting out of the other’s slipstream on the straight leading to the Tosa hairpin – the shape of things to come.
Rounding the Tamburello corner having just started its 45th lap, flames licking out from its back end, the Renault cried enough. After a sterling drive, Arnoux was out. Ferrari had outstayed their French rivals. Alboreto’s Tyrrell over 40 seconds down in third place, the scarlet cars had a comfortable lead over their nearest pursuer. Game over? Not quite. With 15 laps to go, the fun was about to really begin.
Prior to the Renault’s exit, the leading trio had been lapping in the 1’35 bracket. Arnoux gone, and ever mindful of fuel consumption, Villeneuve dropped this pace by a couple of seconds to somewhere in the 1’37 region. As far as the Canadian was concerned, the race was over. The duel between himself and his French team-mate was therefore also over. From Gilles’ point of view, it must have made perfect sense: drop the revs, save fuel, coast to an easy victory. Rightly or wrongly, Gilles had decided that the San Marino Grand Prix was his for the taking. Not so fast. At any moment now the Ferrari pit would issue instructions, wouldn’t they? Yes, eventually …
Making a small error of judgement at Rivazza, the Canadian acrobat went off the road for just a brief moment, no more than a couple of seconds, but enough to hand the initiative to his French comrade. ‘Pironi did not follow the instructions, he passed me. And in a dangerous place,’ said Villeneuve later. ‘Dangerous?’ asked Auto Hebdo in reply. ‘Not quite. Let's say Didier took advantage of a slight fault of his team-mate …’ In this craziest of races, accusations and explanations were coming thick and fast, not all of them entirely accurate. Whatever, the boot was on the other foot; Didier now led Gilles.
When exactly had the first pit board been hung out? On lap 45 – the same lap as Arnoux’s demise, when Gilles led, or, as seems more likely, at the end of the following lap when Didier led? When the cars screeched over the line to compete lap 46 the board duly read:35
1 Didi +0.3 SLOW
2 Gilles - 0.3
Since assuming the lead, Didier had once more started to lap in the 1’35 bracket, an unnecessary risk in the eyes of the management, given the unassailable lead of their two cars. Hence the ‘slow’ instruction.
What exactly though did ‘slow’ mean? Did this message mean that the two cars were to hold position from this point onwards, to refrain from overtaking for the duration of the race? After all, in terms of battling Renault, the race was over. No point taking unnecessary risks. According to sporting director Piccinini, the signal simply warned the drivers not to take ‘excessive’ risks. Gilles, however, interpreted the signal differently. In his view, ‘slow’ approximated to ‘no more overtaking’. If so, in accordance with Gilles’ own interpretation Didier’s position as leader should have been unopposed until the end of the Grand Prix. Yet when the Canadian swooped back into the lead on lap 49, the meaning of ‘slow’ seemed to mean anything but hold station. Gilles’ mistake on lap 46 had changed the dynamic. A few laps later Didier responded in kind. At this point, neither man seemed to be interpreting the ‘slow’ signal as shorthand to hold position. Just the opposite in fact. The crowd whooped and cheered. The San Marino Grand Prix was turning into a classic.
Explaining Ferrari’s pit-board symbols to readers of his Auto Hebdo column, Didier was unequivocal in his understanding of the Ferrari system.36 ‘Slow’, he repeated, meant just that: drop the pace, don’t take risks, thus: ‘The day you see “P2 Didi. OK” that is an instruction to hold second place and to respect it absolutely. At Imola, the panels indicated “P1” and “P2” to each of us according to our positions on the previous lap.’ At no time during the race had Ferrari displayed the ‘OK’ sign. As far as Didier was concerned therefore, he and his team-mate were in a race, and what a race!
As for fuel, preserving it had been the last thing on Gilles’ mind as he had stalked his team-mate between laps 46–49. Slow signs or not, he had only one thing on his mind: to take Pironi and the lead.
Seven laps to the flag and the scarlet cars circulated in formation. It was anyone’s game. Having driven within the limit of fuel projections, Didier was relishing a fight to the flag. 1981 had been a pig of a year. Here was an opportunity to start 1982 on a completely different note. May the best man win! It was, however, a sentiment not shared by the man in the cockpit of the number 27 Ferrari. For Gilles, if not Ferrari management, the crowd or Pironi, the race was over. According to the Quebecois, the duel between Ferrari 27 and 28 had all been part of a spectacle, an orchestrated way to entertain the 100,000-plus spectators jammed into every nook and Imola cranny. Post-race, the largely pro-Villeneuve media seized upon this assertion. Gilles, they said, had been the faster of the two Ferraristas by some way and had jousted with Pironi for 50 laps purely for the crowd’s benefit. He could, they said, easily have left his French team-mate behind at any moment had he wished. Had he not been 1.3 seconds faster in qualifying?
If this was indeed a charade, it was a good one. If Villeneuve really did believe himself to be taking part in some sort of ‘show’ he was in a minority. Up in the BBC commentary box James Hunt was in no doubt: ‘There’s certainly no team tactics here,’ observed the 1976 world champion. ‘They’re both going for it hammer and tongs.’ The manner in which the two drivers had been passing and repassing each other since the start of the race seemed to support Hunt’s contention.
However, Gilles apparently still believed he and Didier were putting on a synchronised show. If this was the case, then the two cars would need to engineer a swap for position, and soon. Laps 53 through to 58 found the Ferraris locked together, Didier just yards in front of his team-mate. With two laps remaining to the flag, Gilles tried his luck at Tosa only to be firmly rebuffed. If this was indeed play-acting, it was play-acting of the very highest order. To Hunt and 100,000 spectators, it looked real enough. ‘Pironi is defending his position with all he’s got,’ noted the ex-McLaren driver.
Were the Ferraris racing? Each time he took over the lead, Didier increased the pace, in the absence of team orders, a perfectly legitimate course of action. Indeed, in his biography of the Canadian ace, Gerald Donaldson is also clear that the scarlet cars were not showboating. On the contrary, Didier and Gilles were involved in a titanic battle for supremacy:
‘On lap 58 he [Villeneuve] moved alongside Pironi at Tosa and was again cut off in no uncertain terms and the crowd began to sense that the Ferrari manoeuvres were not being made light-heartedly.’37
Arriving at Tosa for the 59th time, Ferrari number 27 pulled out of the leader’s slipstream and seized the lead. Game. Set. Match. To Gilles, it was a concession, albeit a rather late one. Didier had decided to finally end the ‘show’ and accept team orders. But what team orders? As Harvey Postlethwaite later confirmed, there never had been any team orders. From Didier’s perspective, the race was still very much on. Neither was fuel a problem. Professionals that they both were, he was expecting a thrilling final couple of laps. Nonetheless, Gilles relaxed. Despite the glaring lack of team orders, in his own mind the ‘show’ was now definitely over. Although Donaldson’s biography portrays a sporting hero, it also presents a picture of an individual who could occasionally veer towards intransigence, a man who was absolute in his convictions. Gilles had won the San Marino Grand Prix. Case closed. He could now lead this glorious Ferrari procession home to the acclaim of the grandstands and an entire nation. It would prove to be a fatal act of presumption.
‘Pironi is going to have to be well placed as they com
e on to the long straight,’ mused James Hunt, just as certain the race was not over. ‘He’s got to start within four lengths of Villeneuve when they come on to the main straight,’ he cautioned. ‘If he can do that, he’ll get him at the end of it.’ The two Ferraris duly approached the pit straight to begin their final lap. ‘Can he close up? Can he get himself into position?’
Hunt’s question was answered moments later as Ferrari number 28 squeezed past the leader as both cars braked into Tosa. Gilles had left a small gap. While there is no doubt that he believed the race to be over, and thus did not expect his team-mate to attack, it was a supposition entirely of the Canadian’s own making. Gilles had ‘switched off’ a little too early. Didier had the lead. For the final part of the lap, he went defensive, placing his car on the tarmac in such a way as to deny Villeneuve a chance to return the favour. At the finish, 0.3 of a second separated the gladiators.
Body language, it was all in the body language. Upon his arrival back at the paddock, Gilles threw his gloves out of the cockpit. To the amazement of those assembled, he then stormed off to the Ferrari motorhome. ‘You need to get another driver!’ shouted an inchoate French Canadian, steam pouring from every pore of his body. Gilles was angry, but who with? Didier? The team? Himself?
Having removed his helmet in typical uber cool Pironi fashion while steering his car home on the parade lap, the winner arrived back in the paddock beaming. The media already smelt blood. Pironi had duped his team-mate! Treachery! Betrayal! The pro-Villeneuve faction of the media were already writing their stories. Initially, the runner-up refused to accompany his team-mate on the podium. Some minutes later, first and second appeared together side by side on the celebration platform, their expressions a world apart. As a jubilant though typically measured Didier sprayed the champagne, Gilles’ demeanour indeed told its own story. Convinced he had been cheated out of a rightful victory, he declined to join Didier and third-placed Michele Alboreto on a victory lap of the circuit in the motorcade. Villeneuve left the circuit post-haste.
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