Formula 1 then was out of the question, at least in the short term. It may or may not have been of significance, but over in Maranello, Enzo Ferrari had not of late mentioned the promise made in the aftermath of the crash, that a Ferrari F1 seat awaited him. Furthermore, in the three years since Hockenheim, F1 had moved on. Arnoux and Tambay had both left Ferrari; neither man would win a Grand Prix again. Prost and McLaren were riding high. A new phenomenon had burst on to the scene – a driver who went by the handle Senna.
Driven by an urge to compete, perhaps it was only inevitable that this compulsion should manifest itself in some other way. Didier was not unfamiliar with the world of offshore powerboat racing, and the huge four-tonne ‘sea monsters’ that contested Class I races, the offshore equivalent to F1. In May of 1985, he helped organise an event between St Tropez and Monaco, a race counting towards the European championships. From here, it was but a short step to enter the fray himself. He certainly knew his way around a powerboat. Having imported Abbate and Lamborghini to France for several years, Didier had made many contacts in this glamorous and exclusive sport that attracted not only the wealthy but royalty too. Besides, powerboating was fun. It set the pulse racing. ‘There are many similarities between driving these machines and those in Formula 1,’ he explained in an interview. There was, however, a crucial difference. With powerboating you got a different ‘feeling’, not the same feeling as F1, rather ‘being on edge, always on the razor’s edge’.52
In some ways 1985 was becoming a transitional year, one in which Didier’s affiliation shifted slightly from road to sea. The prospect of competing in F1 seemed a distant prospect whereas joining the ranks of offshore racing seemed entirely realistic. He was certainly spending more time in the boatyard, more time out at sea. Gradually, he slipped away from his duties with the GPDA. He did, however, continue his frequent trips to Italy, but in summer 1985 the destination was more likely to be the ports of Lavagna or Chiavari, boating strongholds both, rather than Modena, home of Scuderia Ferrari. On one occasion, the Lavagna port authority refused him entry to dock. The noise of his Lamborghini engines had apparently not met with the approval of the port’s resident boaters the previous year!
When he telephoned rising French F1 star Philippe Streiff to congratulate him on his third-place finish at the 1985 Australian Grand Prix, the conversation turned to powerboats. The Ligier driver was a fellow boating enthusiast. During the exchange, Streiff mentioned his intention to attend the offshore world championships to be held in Florida later that month. Didier liked the sound of that. Sure enough, in November he and Catherine flew out to the States. The contingent of French journalists gathered at Key West to cover the event did a double take when who should come limping up the quayside, but the ex-Formula 1 star. Popping up out of the blue, a Pironi speciality.
FISA press secretary and Streiff’s manager Gilles Gaignault was among the French media contingent and just as surprised as anyone at the identity of the man hobbling along the quayside. ‘We arrived in Miami from Los Angeles after a long season which had started back in January, and here we find … Didier Pironi!’
The world championships took place that year in Key West, the hedonistic island that lies at the southernmost tip of the Florida straits, the haunt of Hemingway, Tennessee Williams and others. Here Didier met father and son team Jean-Pierre and Stephane Fruitier, France’s sole representative in a sport dominated by Italians and to a lesser extent Americans. Fruitier had made a fortune in fruit and vegetable wholesale and was typical of the wealthy enthusiasts attracted to offshore racing. Bearing the convoluted but commercially valuable name Rocky le Juice de fruit Fraises, Fruitier’s boat fascinated Didier. Over the obligatory Cuba libres, talk soon turned to plans for 1986.
One evening Didier and Philippe contrived to get on the wrong side of local law enforcement. Dining in an Italian restaurant the boys had parked their cars outside the establishment, illegally as it transpired. Requested to rectify the situation, the French aces simply reversed their cars up the road, only to find themselves promptly arrested for committing a traffic violation. It took several minutes for Gaignault and the party to realise what had happened. Didi and Philippe were released from jail a few hours later.
A timely reminder that offshore racing had a dark as well as glamorous side came home during the week. The pilots of the 38-foot boat Still Crazy crashed fatally during one event off the coast. Travelling at 90mph, the boat had flipped on a wave, crashing into a nearby vessel. The boat’s two American pilots were killed instantly. Offshore racing had teeth. It could bite just as hard as Formula 1, harder in fact.
No matter, Didier’s plans for 1986 had crystallised: he would form an entirely French team with the aim of becoming offshore world champion within three years. It was an ambitious project. Not only would he be taking on a core group of battle-hardened Italian pilots and teams in a sport they rightly considered a speciality, but he would also need to secure considerable financial support in order to compete at the top level, Class I. It was just as well that he loved a challenge. In offshore racing, he had found one.
Didier returned from America with renewed purpose. He discussed his vision with José who, despite his preference for aviation, was similarly enthused. That winter the brothers worked hard on two key fronts: financial and technical. By early 1986 they had put together a package that fused the genius of Bruno Abbate’s design skills with the precision engineering of Lamborghini whose pair of 12-valve fuel-injected engines delivered in excess of 750hp each! With Fruitier and lone French wolf, the Parisian-based owner of Ecole Supérieure de Tourism (EST) Roger Berthault combining forces with Leader, France now had a triple assault team aiming for offshore glory. It seemed somehow fitting that into this world populated by a mix of dilettantes, wealthy enthusiasts, and royalty such as Princess Caroline of Monaco’s husband, Stefano Casiraghi, should enter Didier Pironi, ex-Ferrari F1 superstar. That was offshore racing in the eighties: random, eclectic, affluent. With running costs of a full season’s offshore estimated at anything up to $1.5 million, Didier turned to his old friends at Elf for funding.
The 1986 offshore programme began in April in the Spanish port of Villanueva, visited Monaco, St Tropez and Venice on successive weekends in May, hit Argentario and Porto Cervo in June, before homing in on Viareggio in July, Oregrund (Sweden), Poole and Cowes in August and finished its peripatetic tour on the island of Guernsey in September. It would be a tough baptism. Italian aces such as Renato Della Valle and Dario Spelta were not going to permit a French newbie to muscle in on their territory without a ferocious fight. So it proved. A mixture of inexperience and poor mechanical reliability blighted Leader’s season. Pironi and Fruitier managed fourth place at Cowes, but little else that year. As learning curves went, offshore racing was as deep as it was steep.
Meanwhile back on the racetrack, there were developments too. In July, veteran of over 170 Grands Prix, Jacques Laffite broke both legs in a crash during the British Grand Prix. On hearing the news, Didier immediately attempted to contact his friend, Letournel. Several hours and phone calls later he finally tracked the professor down to New Zealand where he was delivering a seminar. A surprised prof (How on earth did you find me?) agreed to accept Laffite as a patient. Didier had just secured for his old team-mate the services of the best physician in the business. Jacques’ accident added an extra layer of spice to the month of August when Didier was scheduled to dip a toe into the F1 melting pot once more. Guy Ligier’s team now had a vacancy …
And so, late on a sultry August afternoon, Didier landed his helicopter at the Paul Ricard circuit as a battalion of journalists and photographers scrambled to get the story and the picture. Pironi was back to drive an F1, well an AGS, more specifically a jazzed-up 1983 Renault RE40 with a Motor Moderni engine together with white paint job.
Fuelling speculation of a return to the sport, Didier had agreed to drive Henri Julien’s new, but chronically under-financed F1 car on its maiden voyage. Wa
s this then the moment of his rebirth? If so, then in Paul Ricard, venue of his original ‘birth’ in ’72, he could not have chosen a symbolically more appropriate venue for his resurrection. If he looked a little heavier than in times past, nobody cared that much. Hell, the guy had undergone over 30 major surgeries these past years and spent more time in than out of hospital. The sun dipping below the Provencal mountains, he completed 70 untroubled laps. A solid performance. On vacating the cockpit he cried, ‘I’ve not changed!’ Evidently, the driver felt he had just crossed a huge psychological barrier.
In some quarters, it was felt the AGS test had been a stunt, a way of gaining press coverage for the fledgling team. That might have been the team’s motive, but Didier’s it was not. Already, the Brabham and Ferrari F1 teams had contacted him regarding test driver roles in 1987. He was not interested. ‘I am in contact with several teams,’ he told the media, ‘but when I return it will be only if I find a competitive car, capable of winning and to allow me to win the world title.’ All or nothing for Didier, it always had been.
When he accepted a test for Ligier-Renault later that same month, an imminent return to F1 seemed certain. Guy and Didi knew each other of old of course. Memories of that single, blistering 1980 season were still fresh in some minds. With Renault also involved, the omens looked good. There was however a snag. Physical concerns aside, Didier was rumoured to have received a substantial insurance payment following Hockenheim. A return to the sport would therefore, it was strongly suggested, invalidate that claim. Didier might be forced to repay the money. Returning to F1 was not going to be easy on any level. Nevertheless, on a cloudy Burgundy afternoon in late August, he wriggled into the cockpit of the Ligier JS27 at the Dijon-Prenois circuit. Nerves? Watching his methodical preparations, you would not necessarily have thought so. Inside, the heart must surely have been beating a little faster than usual. While the AGS test had been nothing more than a run-out, this was the moment of truth. Four years of blood, guts and determination rested on the outcome of the next few hours. Was he about to make the most improbable F1 comeback in the history of the sport? Those gathered at the circuit crossed their fingers. Everybody was rooting for him. The Loto-sponsored car roared out on to the Dijon circuit …
In the pits, the team anxiously recorded the lap times. Was he on the pace? Did he still have it? Ligier and the boys hoped so. As the car threaded through the super-fast Combe and Pouas corners to enter the long pit straight for another lap, shoulders relaxed, one or two personnel smiled contentedly to themselves. The blue car was flying! Demonstrating all his old panache the little prince of speed was rediscovering his mojo out there, vanquishing the doubt-demons that had plagued him these last four years. Back again, the Pironi swagger. Forty nostalgic laps later, he had recorded a best time of 1’05.50. To put that into context, Alain Prost held the circuit record with a time of 1’05.25. More significantly, he had beaten Arnoux’s time from the previous test albeit using softer tyres. He still had it.
As impressive as the test had been Didier remained typically measured in his reaction: ‘I didn’t really drive hard,’ he told the assembled media,’ because I didn’t want to damage the car Guy had kindly let me try.’ He spoke too about the ‘pleasure’ of driving a car no longer running with skirts and the corresponding ‘delicacy’ now required. He ended the day on a cautiously optimistic note: ‘I now feel confident I can compete again at the top level.’ Pironi was back in the game.
Inexplicably, following this impressive run, Guy Ligier prevaricated. It all depended on the progress of Laffite, now in the capable hands of Letournel. Didier was nonplussed. After four years away from the sport, only a blind man (or Guy) could not appreciate the extent of his achievement that Dijon afternoon. In reality, the prospect of a Ligier seat in F1’s midfield held little appeal. Despite a brief upturn in form in 1986, the French cavaliers had been falling down the F1 grid for some years and would continue to do so.
One man who did seem to appreciate his efforts was McLaren’s Ron Dennis, a long-time admirer of the Frenchman. Rumours circulated in the French media that Marlboro France were keen to get Didier into the Woking team as partner to Prost in ’87. Following Keke Rosberg’s retirement at the end of 1986, McLaren were in the market for a stop-gap driver before the arrival of Ayrton Senna in 1988. Didier fitted that bill. A berth with McLaren would thrust him back to the front of the F1 grid if even for a single season. Alain Prost, however, allegedly vetoed the move. ‘Didier was furious,’ says Catherine Goux, ‘absolutely furious …’
A door had closed. If the rumours were true, for reasons best known to himself, Prost had denied his friend the chance of an F1 lifeline. In the event, Dennis eventually signed Swedish journeyman Stefan Johansson, but not until the 1987 season had almost begun. Pironi and McLaren would have been huge news, a horror story that had ended happily ever after. Had Didier re-joined the F1 circuit in 1987, his offshore career – at least as a competitor – would likely have ended right there. Alas, it was not to be.
Many years have passed, but today, 30 years on, there is a certain name of a multiple Formula 1 world champion that is never mentioned in a certain household, ever.
Twenty-six
The habit of perfection
‘He was, Didier, a perfectionist, you know?’ The words are those of Philippe Lecouffle, the childhood friend whose family had run Europe’s premier orchid farm just down the road from the Boissy castle and where Didier had first fallen in love with these exotic flowers. ‘He always wanted to be the best he could, to be perfect.’ His rehabilitation was a perfect example of this disposition. In order to avoid ankylosis – stiffening and immobility of joints – in choosing the Papineau technique, he had opted for a process that required unusually high levels of patience, determination and faith. Not once had he baulked, not even when faced with a long and painful series of bone grafts and equally painful physiotherapy schedule. To reach his goal, he had to suffer. Didier fully accepted the situation. If that is what it took to claim his world championship, then so be it.
In fact, the process only ended in 1987, almost five years after it had begun. Remarkably, in all this time he never once saw his wounds. Professor Letournel judged it best not to traumatise his patients more than necessary.
‘Didier saw his wounds and his surgical “history” only in ’87 when the bone was reconstituted,’ recalls Francine. ‘Professor Letournel showed him all the slides of the evolution of his leg during a weekend that we spent at his house. I can tell you that there was too much silence after the projection of the slides.’ A quick check online into case histories reveals the grisly reality entailed with the Papineau method. It is not for the faint-hearted.
This same will to achieve nothing more than the best surfaced in his new pursuit. His F1 prospects having seemingly stalled, Didier focused his energies back to offshore. His first season in this exotic sport had yielded little in terms of tangible success. Yes, he had accumulated experience, some of it painful – as four cracked ribs from an early-season accident in Barcelona had attested. No question, in 1986 Leader had under-performed. Offshore was a tougher nut to crack than he could ever have expected.
Undeterred, he set out to create a powerboat like no other. This boat would be a monohull built in fibre-reinforced polymers (FRP) and powered by Lamborghini petrol engines. Didier being Didier, he wanted this boat, his concept, his baby, to be unique. Weight reduction became the Holy Grail; the lighter the boat, the faster it would go. Didier was seeking a 20% reduction compared to conventional crafts, a potential game-changer. Sourcing a company that could or indeed wanted to work to this exacting brief became somewhat of an obsession. Didier’s research had led to the kind of moulding techniques usually deployed in the aerospace industry. As ever, he was pushing the boundaries. Designing a run-of-the-mill boat would have been a pointless exercise. Along with Jean-Claude Guénard, he worked assiduously on a design the pair knew had the potential to revolutionise offshore racing. Was there
any other kind? Guénard himself had an impressive track record not only as a competitor, but also in a variety of technical capacities. Like his childhood pal, the ex-Renault F1 technical director loved the thrill of high-speed competition in whichever way it came, bikes, cars or boats. Kindred spirits, Didi and GueGue.
All well and good, but revolutions do not come easily or cheaply. The project needed a significant cash injection. Step forward Philippe Midy. A keen sailor himself, the Midial food group of which he was CEO had already sponsored the efforts of round-the-world yachtsman Olivier de Kerauson in his trimaran Poulain Midial. Conquering oceans and seas appealed to a notion Midy held that an association with endeavour could only enhance brand value.53
Didier’s research eventually led him to the naval architect Xavier Joubert and his design practice in La Rochelle. Specialising in the design of sailing yachts, Joubert readily accepted this intriguing project. His manufacturing and research company ACX, based in Brest, boasted a state-of-the-art FRP composites workshop and had established a solid reputation in the study and manufacture of high-performance structures utilising carbon and Kevlar. ACX had the technology. A major piece of the jigsaw had thus fallen into place. Had he not been a racing driver, Didier could surely have forged a successful career in project management.
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