One week later the circus moved north to Montreal. A month had passed since the death of Villeneuve and Canada was still mourning one of its favourite sons. Ignoring the whistles and jeers of certain sections of the grandstand, a solemn Didier dedicated his first pole position in scarlet to the memory of the fallen Ferrari warrior.
‘This is my first pole position at Ferrari, and it gives me great joy achieving it at the circuit named after the man who was not only my partner, but also my friend. I dedicate this achievement, because I know if he was still among us, it is he who would have obtained the best time.’ A heartfelt tribute, Didier’s words helped to allay some of the ill feeling circulating around Montreal’s environs. But not everybody was in the mood to forgive. Later, he ignored the accusation of ‘murderer’ spat from the lips of a certain journalist who passed by the hospitality tent where he and Piccinini happened to be in discussion.
At the green light on Sunday, the Ferrari stalled. The 126C2 was going nowhere. His car now a sitting duck, all Didier could do was wave his left hand about in an attempt to warn his fellow drivers of his predicament. ‘I closed my eyes, placed my hands firmly on the steering wheel and waited for the shock,’ recalled Didier. ‘Seconds seemed so long. I heard the cars pass, pass, pass … then nothing more. I relaxed. And suddenly the shock.’40
While older hands like Rosberg and Lauda avoided the Ferrari, arriving from the back row of the grid, Riccardo Paletti, a young Italian driver in only his second Grand Prix, had no such luck. With cars diving left and right in a desperate effort to avoid the red obstacle, the unsighted Osella driver ploughed into the Ferrari’s rear end. The impact was brutal. The Italian rookie sustained serious chest injuries. Two days short of his 26th birthday, Paletti would later succumb to those injuries. His car a write-off, Didier had somehow survived another major incident without as much as a scratch. Was he leading a charmed life? It seemed that way. Meanwhile chaos ensued. The Osella burst into a ball of flames. Ambulances and medical vehicles swamped the starting grid, lights flashing, sirens wailing. Soon the Italian car was lost in a plume of thick white smoke. Didier was just one of many people on the scene attempting to aid the tragic young man, to no avail. Peering into the cockpit, a scene of horror met his eyes. It would take rescuers over 20 minutes to extract Paletti from the wreckage of his machine. Though he could hardly have known it, Didier was witnessing a dress rehearsal of events that would overtake him in just four weeks’ time at Hockenheim. Omens. Portents. The signs had always been there, through child and adulthood. Didier chose to ignore them …
When the race restarted Ferrari 28 slipped steadily down the field. The spare car into which he had switched was not in the sweet spot and besides, his heart was no longer in it. First Gilles, now the Osella rookie. Didier at its epicentre, 1982 was shaping into a quite ghastly season. Carnage. No other word for it.
Back in Europe, Ferrari’s development showed no sign of easing up. Modifications to the suspension, gearbox and air-cooling system yielded some promising times at Paul Ricard. New recruit Patrick Tambay impressed too. The team were going flat out, continuing to test long into the warm summer evenings. At a little after 7pm on the evening of 17 June, Didier was flying down the main straight when he ploughed into the barriers at an estimated 185mph. Miraculously, he escaped this crash with mild concussion and a cracked rib. The 126C2, however, was not so lucky. ‘I gave it a good blast, certainly the most violent of my career and the cockpit has stood up well,’ Didier told readers of his Auto Hebdo column. ‘I do not know for what reason, we have not yet ascertained why, but I don’t think the monocoque is even recoverable.’ He was pushing the limits, but for how much longer could he expect to flirt with disaster?
Upheaval was never far away that long, hot summer. At the end of June, his three-month marriage to Catherine apparently ended – with Didier you never could tell. ‘I am stunned and do not understand,’ writes Imelda. ‘Didier’s looks and behaviour tell me “no questions”. The only explanation I can obtain is laconic. He left without anything he tells me. I await clarification …’ Something had happened to shatter the golden couple’s harmony, but what? Didier was not saying, neither was his bride. ‘Catherine’s silence on the matter is impenetrable,’ notes Madame Pironi, whose bewilderment is obvious. It seems that upon his return to Geneva, Didier had made a discovery that radically altered his attitude towards his wife, profound enough for him to immediately abandon their marriage. Extracting information from Didier was never an easy task at the best of times. Turning detective, Imelda began her investigations. They led her to a conclusion she could hardly believe, the possible involvement of a third party, un anonyme pilot. Domestic dramas aside, just weeks after the acrimonious events described above, Catherine would be seen in the Zandvoort paddock, fresh and vivacious, oozing glamour …
Complicated. Never more apt was the term than when applied to Didier’s private life. Some time in early summer, the paparazzi snapped him on the pavement of a busy Parisian boulevard smooching the female driver of a car against which he knelt. The mystery woman was none other than Veronique Jannot, one of France’s leading actresses.
In mid-June Didier attended a ceremony at the Monza circuit near Milan to commemorate the life of his late team-mate. Observers at the beautiful garden in front of the Royal Villa were shocked to see the cool, phlegmatic Frenchman break down in tears upon presenting a rose to the memory of his fallen colleague. Roses had been a favourite of Gilles. In happier times they had been a favourite gift to give Joann. ‘Didier’s tears surprised me,’ wrote Rombo’s Mario Manini, ‘as he has never been one to publicly display his emotions.’ True, but that summer Didier was riding an emotional rollercoaster. Villeneuve’s death had been hard enough, but now his nights were also haunted by visions of that horrific Montreal accident, the fire, the lights, the chaos.
Finally, all the anguish, sorrow and regret bottled up inside had broken through. The Frenchman was still weeping at the ceremony’s end. ‘Who actually is Didier Pironi?’ asked Manini in the same article. ‘I think nobody knows him too deeply.’ That same old question attempting to unravel ‘a silent form’, which, in the words of the poet, ‘dost tease us out of thought.’41
As the heat of summer enveloped the continent, back on the racetrack Ferrari finally began to flex their muscles. Joined by Tambay in his first outing for the Scuderia, Didier won the Dutch Grand Prix on 3 July in fine style. Although unable to match the Renaults in qualifying, within five laps car number 28 calmly overtook first Arnoux and then Prost. Thereafter, he simply disappeared into the sand dunes. Still aching from his Paul Ricard shunt two weeks earlier, he had declined the offer of a pain-killing injection prior to the start of the race. When you’re winning, he would later say, you don’t feel pain. So impressed was Grand Prix International, its chief writer compared the effortless manner of Didier’s victory to the many wins achieved by the legendary Jim Clark. High praise indeed.
Talk turned to the world championship. Victory had brought him to within one point of current leader, John Watson. Meanwhile, Tambay had performed with some promise on his race debut. Patrick drove a solid race, even if he never really troubled his high-flying compatriot. With the coming of summer, it was as if the shy, diffident French pilot had metamorphosed into a potential F1 superstar.
Finishing runner-up at the British Grand Prix two weeks later took Didier to the top of the F1 table for the first time in his career:
Pironi 35
Watson 30
Lauda 24
Rosberg 21
When he had realised it was the Cosworth-powered cars that held all the aces around the Brands Hatch circuit this particular day, Didier had wisely settled for a points finish. He was driving like a champion. Now he was thinking like one. Second place behind Lauda was therefore a more than satisfactory outcome. Moreover, with Tambay taking third place, Ferrari consolidated their place behind McLaren in the constructors’ race. Summer of 1982, Didier and Ferrari were m
aking giant strides. Like a butterfly born to dazzle for but a few days, Didier’s time in the sun, basking at the top of the F1 summit, would last the briefest of moments.
Twenty-two
Hockenheim
For one magical moment in July of 1982, life seemed to offer myriad possibilities to the French cavalier. The 126C2 was finally proving to be a very competitive machine, proof of which had been evident enough in Holland. Furthermore, Didier was leading the world championship and was now a strong favourite to achieve his dream of becoming France’s first Formula 1 world champion. Although events at Imola, Zolder and Montreal would disturb his karma through 1982 and beyond, the pain was gradually diminishing. Life went on. Intricate and tangled to a quite exceptional degree, his private life was also about to take an interesting detour. As a heatwave settled over La Republic, professional and private spheres finally settling, Didi could have been forgiven for thinking that the worst was over.
Ever since he had watched her performance in the film Le Toubib alongside Alain Delon, Didier had been intrigued by Veronique Jannot, a 25-year-old actress and singer well known to French audiences. With her distinctive short, strawberry blonde hair, petite frame and almost boyish look, Jannot could not have been any more different to the likes of Vallone and Bleynie. Nonetheless, something clicked. As he later told L’Automobile magazine,42 his interest had been further heightened upon reading an interview Jannot had given to a celebrity magazine. The actress, he had instantly felt, possessed an ‘original and engaging personality’. In 1982 she was starring in the popular television soap opera Pause-Café where her role as a cheery, indefatigable social worker had endeared her to an entire nation, Didier included. 1982 had also seen the release of one of her biggest hits, the haunting Je fait l’amour avec la mer (I made love to the sea), a great favourite of Didier’s. He decided he had to meet this vivacious young girl.
In her memoir, Jannot recalls receiving a call out of the blue one day from the Ferrari superstar. Would she like to accompany him on a charity assignment for his sponsors Haribo? Veronique accepted. It would be the start of a whirlwind romance of unsurpassed intensity. In the days that followed the charity event Didier called several times from Modena where testing of the 126C2 continued. Movie star and F1 driver arranged to go for dinner: ‘Our eyes met and never once dropped,’ recalled Jannot. ‘I knew something had happened. It was the beginning of the summer of 1982.’ The couple became inseparable. Theirs was a romance straight from the pages of fiction. Together they went on walks, drives and moonlit boat rides, where they gazed up in wonder at the vast expanse of stars, silent, indescribably happy.
Shortly after their first meeting, the couple accepted an invitation to speak to L’Automobile magazine. The location chosen for the interview was an equestrian centre near Toulon. Didier and Veronique enjoyed the experience immensely; horse riding, lunching and chatting, the young lovers giggled, blissfully happy in the first flushes of love. The interview was a regular feature of the magazine, in which stars from different vocations met to share experiences of their professions. When approached to take part, Didier had nominated Veronique as his choice to compare notes: the actor and the racer. He asked her about life as an actress: stage fright, improvising and suchlike. In a similar vein, she asked him about fear and the F1 driver; had he ever known real fear? Their affair in its infancy, the lovers’ eyes sparkled. Ahead stretched endless summer days and nights.
Veronique was delighted to accept an invitation to Paul Ricard to watch her hero perform at the French Grand Prix on 25 July. It was their first public outing as a couple. The waiflike actress took up a place in the Ferrari garage, from where she had a ringside view of her hero taking the fight to the mighty Renault team. It was a bakingly hot weekend on this part of France’s Mediterranean coast. Practice days were hot and humid. If Ferrari personnel were shocked to find one of France’s most familiar faces hanging around the garage, they did not betray it. Catherine had disappeared. In her place now stood Veronique. One beautiful woman had supplanted another. All in a day’s work for the dashing French lieutenant on course to be crowned champion of the world. At the height of their powers, tanned and content in one another’s presence, France’s newest celebrity couple exuded well-being.
Although he now led the world championship, some sections of the Italian and French media were less than impressed. Didier, they said, was driving like an ‘accountant’, his eyes fixed a little too firmly on racking up points. Win or bust; some sectors of the media seemed to prefer this all or nothing approach even if it meant compromising points finishes. Had the Frenchman lost his bottle? ‘It is not true I have softened,’ said Didier, stung by the criticism. ‘The fact is that in some races it is impossible to win at all costs.’ The critics remained unconvinced.
On a blisteringly hot race afternoon, the Ferraris had no answer to the Renault turbo and in particular the French car’s Michelin tyres. In qualifying the Italian squad had been almost 1.5 seconds off Arnoux’s pole-winning time, superiority the yellow and white cars maintained in the race. Didier and Patrick finished a well beaten third and fourth. Four points for Didier, however, increased his lead over Watson to nine. The world championship was within touching distance.
The media, however, was not happy. ‘The public,’ declared an influential and widely read Italian magazine, ‘tend to snub the driver who takes to the track with an abacus.’ Similarly, a popular French motorsport title editorialised with a scathing headline entitled, ‘Pironi’s fear of winning.’ The same article then went on to joke that the driver of car number 28 had been enjoying a ‘nap’ on what had admittedly been a somnolent Provencal afternoon. But these half-serious critiques failed to account for his team-mate’s similarly lacklustre performance. Patrick had finished a further half a minute behind his team leader. If Didi had been dozing, Patrick must have been in a coma! Since the events of Imola and Zolder, the knives had been out for the Frenchman. Now, they were being sharpened. After standing for ‘La Marseillaise’ with the feuding Renault drivers, Didier headed straight for his motorhome. Washed and showered, he reappeared in the paddock laconic and relaxed, in the immortal words of Mr Roebuck, ‘mocking the razzmatazz around him with that faintly mocking smile…’43
Inseparable, Didier and Veronique next headed east along the coast. He was eager to take his new love to St Tropez, to share with her its air, its ambience, its magic. It was an enchanting time for both partners. Alain Prost and Tullio Abbate were also in town. Didier joined the men down at the port for some powerboat fun and frolics. His love of these big, powerful boats had long been known. An infinite stretch of sea, a warm, benign sun, and the sheer thrill of bouncing atop St Tropez’s turquoise waters in one of these ‘sea monsters’ – this was Didier’s world, his playground.
It was not all play though. Didier continued to work hard as GPDA president. Under his stewardship, the drivers had recently voted for a ban on the dreaded skirts, responsible for so many accidents and incidents over the past four years. In that calm, authoritative way of his, he was also organising and then explaining the merits of various insurance packages tailored to the needs of his fellow drivers. Six months ago he had sworn to improve the safety of his chosen profession. He was determined to do just that. While his heart was full of joy that summer of wonder, his attaché case was stuffed full with any number of legal documents and files.
From southern France the lovers made their way to Heidelberg in the south-western corner of Germany. A strong result at Hockenheim, venue for the German Grand Prix, would all but seal the 1982 world championship in Didier’s favour. Indeed, Ferrari were fancied to do well at the high-speed circuit which snakes its way through acres of densely packed pine forests. Formula 1’s glamour couple arrived in Heidelberg in carefree mood. While Didier was excelling himself in the 126C2, his new beau watched her knight with admiration: ‘I’m in love with my helmeted hero,’ wrote Jannot in her autobiography. ‘I am full of a happiness so intense that I almost
hurt.’44
The man who haunted himself, the Ferrari ace went off the circuit during Friday’s session at almost the same spot that 24 hours later would be the scene of such mayhem. Portents and omens – always, everywhere. Not that the skirmish upset Didier’s rhythm. When he ended up easily fastest at close of play, all bets for the championship were off. Practice times revealed a driver at the very top of his game. He was almost a full second faster than his nearest challenger:
Pironi 1’47.947
Prost 1’48.890
Arnoux 1’49.256
Piquet 1’49.415
Tambay 1’49.570
Saturday brought atrocious weather conditions to the Baden-Württemberg region of Germany. Didier and Veronique left the Holiday Inn hotel just before 9am. Despite the cold, grey weather, the couple laughed and smiled on the short drive to the circuit.
Grim morning notwithstanding, by 10am the qualifying session was ready to begin. Perhaps not surprisingly the majority of drivers opted to stay in the relative warmth and security of the team garages. With the skies darkening and rain starting to increase in both frequency and magnitude, improving on Friday’s time was clearly not on the agenda. With a wet race on Sunday a distinct possibility, there was much work to do testing out wet configurations. Somewhat reluctantly, a handful of cars ventured out of the pits, among them Ferrari number 28. As expected, lap times were substantially slower than the previous day. The Hockenheim circuit was getting wetter by the minute. Undaunted, Didier exited the team garage to drive what would be the last four laps of his Grand Prix career. He would later say the car had given him a great feeling, wet track notwithstanding. The howl of the frantic V6 engine reverberated around the eerily quiet grandstands. The Frenchman was not holding back. Lapping five seconds faster than his team-mate, Didier was brimming with confidence. Time to start another lap, his fourth.
Pironi Page 21