Shunt

by Tom Rubython

  But Hunt tried his very best right to the end. He wrung the neck of his McLaren M26 at Watkins Glen and put it on pole, beating out the ultra-quick pair of Brabham-Alfa Romeos of John Watson and the resurgent Hans Stuck who, aware his drive was up for grabs in 1978, was trying to impress the boss.

  Race day at Watkins Glen proved to be cold and wet, but that didn’t stop 100,000 American fans pouring into the circuit to see if Mario Andretti could win the race and if Lauda could clinch the championship. Lauda, driving for points, didn’t really feature, and the race proved a battle between Hunt and Mario Andretti. The two had long forgotten their differences at Zandvoort.

  Andretti was well behind as the race drew to a close, but he drove the last laps like a demon. At the start of the penultimate lap, Andretti and Hunt were 6.5 seconds apart. At the start of the last lap, it was 1.5 seconds. Andretti had driven a lap five seconds faster than Hunt. That woke up Hunt, and in the end he cruised in over the line some two and a half seconds clear.

  The hugely entertaining American race reflected the whole season. It was rare to have so many contenders for the title, and it made for a vintage year of Formula One. Whereas 1976 was the most dramatic season on record, 1977 was the most enjoyable for fans.

  By finishing fourth at Watkins Glen, Lauda put the 1977 title beyond doubt. So just before the penultimate race of the season, the Canadian Grand Prix, the Brabham team announced that Niki Lauda would be its number one driver in 1978.

  The announcement drove Enzo Ferrari into a state of apoplexy, far worse than anything Lauda had imagined. They had a furious exchange of words over the telephone. After he put down the phone, Lauda, who was used to Enzo’s tirades, was shocked at the venom. He was so shaken that he even considered withdrawing from Mosport but, fearful of the legal ramifications, decided to honour his contract.

  When he arrived in Toronto, he began to wish he hadn’t. He was astonished to find that Ferrari had entered a third car for the young Canadian Gilles Villeneuve, who was to replace him in the team in 1978. Ferrari had spirited Villeneuve away from the hapless Teddy Mayer, who had failed to take up the option he had on the young Canadian driving prodigy. It was an extraordinary lapse by Mayer and inexplicable to James Hunt, who had brokered the original deal between Villeneuve and his team.

  Lauda had had a contract with Ferrari in which it was stated that the team would always comprise only two cars, forbidding a third from being entered. Lauda had insisted on the stipulation because he considered the team incapable of running more than two cars competently. Enzo hated the clause, but Lauda had insisted.

  Entering Villeneuve in the Canadian Grand Prix was a clear breach of the contract signed in June 1976, but Enzo had been in a difficult situation as Villeneuve insisted on driving in his home race and McLaren had already promised him a car for that race.

  Lauda was astounded and told people that, had he been asked, he probably would have agreed to it. But he was incensed when he was not told and had to discover it for himself when he arrived and saw Villeneuve’s name on the side of the third car.

  Lauda attacked Daniele Audetto in the pits. Audetto called up Enzo and handed Lauda the telephone receiver. The two men had another furious row over the crackling transatlantic line. Lauda slammed down the phone and went to cool off.

  As he had already been paid his full retainer, he decided to leave the team there and then. Lauda walked out confident in the knowledge that Ferrari had been the first to breach the contract. He immediately flew back to Europe and missed the final two races of 1977. Hunt was fully behind Lauda’s decision to quit early, saying: “You can only put up with so much agro.” A rancorous Enzo Ferrari also sacked Lauda’s head mechanic, Ermano Cuoghi, after guessing that he would follow Lauda to Brabham.

  The hatred was palpable, although Lauda eventually changed his view of Enzo Ferrari. As the years passed, he put his irascibility down to old age and poor advisers. Six years later, they were reconciled when they met at the Imola circuit by accident. By then, Enzo was 84 and Lauda 35. The two men hugged for at least five minutes, all differences forgotten. They reminisced, and Enzo told Lauda he had scored 15 wins in a Ferrari, 12 second places and 23 pole positions. He told him he had driven 3,292 miles leading races and scored 248 world championship points. Enzo loved his racing and, in the end, Lauda loved Enzo.

  Lauda even came to love the Ferrari GTO he had been given as his company car when he joined the team. Only 213 were ever made, and today Lauda’s car is worth more money than he ever earned at Ferrari in his entire four seasons with the team combined.

  As it happened, Hunt wasn’t too displeased to see the back of Lauda for the final two races. It made his job much easier as he sought to salvage something from a very disappointing season which had seen him score six pole positions and gain only two victories.

  In Canada qualifying, Hunt was second on the grid next to Mario Andretti on pole. Peterson was third and Nilsson fourth on the grid. The race started as the grid order, with Hunt running second to Andretti and the others nowhere. But when Hunt came up to lap his teammate, he managed to collide with him despite Mass waving him through. Mass continued on, but the collision pushed Hunt into the most serious accident of his entire career.

  Mass was on the right hand side of the track as Hunt got in his slipstream, desperately chasing after Andretti with no time to lose. An impatient Hunt veered left but Mass went left as well to get out of his way. Mass braked to let Hunt through; but Hunt, not realising what was happening, ran straight into the back of him. Hunt lost control and went through the catch fencing, which couldn’t hold the car, and hit the concrete wall head on in excess of 100 miles per hour. Observers at the scene who witnessed the force of the accident thought Hunt was dead.

  The car was completely written off and Alastair Caldwell, attempting to find some humour in the situation, described the condition of the car as “turning left at the dashboard.”

  Hunt said: “This was by far the worst accident of my Formula One career. I was very lucky not to have a broken leg or worse. My legs were trapped but by removing the steering wheel and wriggling out of my shoes I managed to extract myself from the remains.”

  He had had the luckiest of escapes.

  But far from rejoicing, Hunt got out of his car extremely angry at his teammate, whose car did not appear to be damaged. Hunt did his usual trick of standing at the side of the track and moving into Mass’ line when he appeared, which caused the driver to maneuver to avoid him at high speed. It was incredibly foolhardy. For three laps, Hunt stood at the side of the track shaking his fist at Mass. When a marshal ordered him away from the track, Hunt turned round and punched him in the face. The marshal fell down and Hunt suddenly realised what he had done. He picked up the poor American marshal and took him back to the pits, apologising profusely along the way. Professor Sid Watkins, the Formula One doctor, witnessed that incident and was impressed by Hunt’s quick apology: “Most people do not realise the enormous mental and emotional effort these young men put into their performances.”

  But despite his efforts to make good his actions, Hunt had gone too far for the stewards and they were determined to punish him. He was fined CDN$2,000 for assaulting a track official and CDN$750 for being on the track.

  The marshal, who had accepted Hunt’s apologies initially, was approached by a lawyer who had witnessed the incident and was convinced to sue. Hunt settled out of court quietly with a confidentiality clause in the agreement. But friends later said it had cost him US$5,000.

  Mass was very upset about Hunt’s behavior, especially when he learned that he had bad-mouthed him around the paddock. Mass said: “He thought I blocked him deliberately, which is stupid. He opens his mouth very quickly, which is unfortunate.”

  Journalists watched aghast at Hunt’s behavior and they all sided with Mass. With the fines and the marshal’s intention to sue, this was an incident that could not be brushed away. In the newspapers the following day, two of the more memorab
le headlines read: ‘Hunt the Punch’ and ‘Prima donna’s punch-up.’ The incident made headlines worldwide. Jody Scheckter eventually won the race, but no one seemed to remember. The South African was amazed at the lack of coverage for his win. Mass limped in in third, having driven an excellent race in the circumstances. Patrick Depailler was second.

  Hunt couldn’t get across the border to the United States quick enough, as he headed for Europe before flying to Japan for the final race of the season on 23rd October.

  Mario Andretti, by now the dominant drive in Formula One, was easily on pole position and Hunt was once again second on the grid. The race would be between these two. But Andretti did not even last the first lap and Hunt drove an uneventful race to victory, leading from start to finish. Carlos Reutemann was second over a minute behind, and Patrick Depailler third.

  But the race was almost stopped when Gilles Villeneuve’s Ferrari ran into Ronnie Peterson’s Tyrrell-Ford and took off into a spectator’s enclosure, killing two of them. It was a huge incident and there was little celebrating on the podium thereafter. The accident also caused the cancellation of the following year’s race.

  Not that Hunt was on the podium. Along with Carlos Reutemann, he rushed straight to Tokyo airport to catch an early flight home. The promoters had promised him a police escort to the airport after the podium celebrations. But when the police escort didn’t appear as arranged, Hunt just left. Patrick Depailler was left on his own to spray the champagne in front of a bemused 80,000 fans.

  It had been a hugely frustrating year for Hunt and a disappointing title defence in a season that had held so much promise. Perhaps if things had been just a little bit different, Hunt could have been champion again. As he said, he almost won three more races in Argentina, Austria and Canada. Hunt himself was astonished he had done so well, saying: “The M26 really was an awful car and still, to my amazement, I won three Grands Prix in the M26.”

  He reflected: “The galling thing really about 1977 was that I should have finished on a hat trick. But still, to win two out of the last three was still what I call only just compensation for my efforts for the year.” He had finished the season strongly and what happened in the first half upset him even more, as he said ruefully: “I had a disastrous first half of the season and it got a bit better by the second half, but by then it was too late.” He added: “We won three but we didn’t do much finishing between them.”

  John Hogan remembers Hunt being mightily fed up when they went to lunch shortly after the season ended: “He was a little bit pissed that he could have won the championship a second time. He was going quite well, but then they brought out the M26 and it was just going nowhere. Had they stayed with the M23, he probably would have had a big chance. He was a bit pissed when they didn’t focus on that. So I think he felt that he kind of gave it away in 1977. Although he always said: ‘I won the championship once, what’s the point in winning it a second time?’”

  But his second-half performance showed he had every reason, as he flew back to Britain, to believe that he could win the title again in 1978 with a fully sorted-out McLaren M26.

  But Hunt was about to embark upon the most disappointing and frustrating year of his life.

  CHAPTER 31

  A fear of death takes hold 1978

  Danger sparks morbid thoughts

  James Hunt had always taken the possibility of dying in a racing car quite lightly. He told people he would keep going full speed until the day he retired, regardless of the risk. Immediately after becoming world champion, he said: “Life’s too short – it certainly can be in a racing driver’s career – to relax. And you don’t stand any less chance of getting killed if you relax.” Sometimes it seemed as though the accidents never really happened to him.

  While he was flippant about the possibility of dying in a racing car, he had clearly thought about it deeply; although perhaps not too deeply. According to Hunt, he had weighed the odds of dying alongside the risks involved in racing a car and found them to be in his favour. As he said before he was world champion: “The danger aspect is the biggest cloud on my horizon, and a constant heavy thought at home. But it’s not something you dwell on in the emotionally charged atmosphere of a circuit. One has to weigh the odds, the risks involved as well as one can, and look at life and see if it’s worth taking the risks for the time being. Once you have decided it’s worth those risks, it would be counter-productive to worry about it. In fact, worrying about it would be very bad for your driving. You might as well give it your best while you are racing, and then stop at the right time.” But how he could have made such a determination is unclear: seven times in his career, Hunt had accidents that should have killed him. In fact, all seven were more likely to have killed him than not. The fact that he survived them was, each time, a miracle in itself. Seven serious accidents in a 13-year racing career is not a great survival statistic but somehow he wasn’t concerned. In fact, some of those accidents were simply the result of careless actions, reflecting just how reckless he was in the early days.

  From his first serious accident on 26th October 1968, when he ended up in a lake at Oulton Park, to the last really serious one on Friday 2nd June 1978, when he went into a barrier at Jarama and was nearly crushed by his own left front tyre, he was incredibly lucky. On the first occasion, he suffered no more than a cut on his head and, on the last, merely a bruised hand. Strangely enough, the most grievous injury Hunt had ever received in a car was in a road accident, in which he had a head-on collision in his Mini road car whilst returning from a race at Brands Hatch. It was the only time he ever ended up in hospital from something he had done in a car. Even his skiing accidents were far more serious than any motor racing accident had ever been.

  But he thought it counterproductive to even think about it until an accident happened, or so he claimed: “Once an accident has started happening, you’ve just about got time to say: ‘Shit, I’m having a shunt.’ You can’t usually do anything about the fact that you are having an accident, but you might have time to get the car to go in backwards rather than forwards, which hopefully would be better. Basically, you have just got time to get your head down and brace yourself.” That was all the thought he believed it required until 1978.

  In the early days in Formula 3, his rivals considered him a brave competitor, as one said: “He frightened himself and he was at the same time a brave bastard.” Hunt didn’t disagree, saying: “I intend to keep going full chat until the day I retire because it makes sense; an accident which starts at 165 miles an hour is as bad as one that starts at 170.” There is no question that in the earlier part of his career, he took a cavalier attitude to death and injury.

  He brushed aside all such worries until Sunday 10th September 1978, when he was intimately involved in an accident that befell Ronnie Peterson. Peterson was a close friend, and his death affected Hunt profoundly. They had known each other since they raced together in Formula 3. Hunt pulled Peterson out of his car on the Monza grid and laid him on the tarmac while they waited for the medics. Despite the terrible injuries to both his legs, some 27 breaks in all, Peterson was fully conscious and there was eye contact between the two drivers as Hunt lay next to Peterson and comforted him on the hot tarmac of the starting grid.

  From that moment until the end of his own life 15 years later, Hunt was haunted by the fear he saw that day in Peterson’s face. He said: “Ronnie knew he was in trouble, and I could see he was terribly frightened.” In that moment, the realities of dying or being maimed in a racing car hit him full on. An hour after the accident, Hunt was within seconds of announcing his retirement. Hunt told Postlethwaite that he really didn’t want to continue, and wanted to pack it in there and then, but Postlethwaite managed to talk him out of it, persuaded him to get back into his McLaren for the restart of the race and subsequently saved his career.

  That evening, for the first time, he talked with his girlfriend Jane Birbeck about dying. And in the next few days, he thought deeply about w
hat a serious accident would mean to his way of life. Birbeck remembers him saying that he wanted everybody to have a big party if anything happened to him.

  A driver can accommodate many conflicting emotions, and the art of driving a race car fast is in many ways mastering the emotions. But once genuine takes hold, everything alters. Hunt had suddenly lost the protection of the ‘It won’t happen to me’ syndrome. When that protection was replaced by the belief that it might, he decided to quit.

  But he had to balance the risk against his other ambition, which was to win another championship; something that was well possible in 1977 and 1978. But in the same way that serendipity had enabled him to win in 1976, it now worked against him in these two years. In 1976, he had said: “I don’t see myself racing on into the 1980s. It is too dangerous. I am not going to carry on risking my life indefinitely. I will only continue as long as I think I can win. There are too many other things I want to do.” He elaborated: “More than anything else, I want to retire alive. So the sooner I achieve my goals, the quicker I can retire.”

  Hunt was very intelligent and he, more than any other driver, realised full well what the risks were. He demonstrated a level of thinking about what he was doing and how he was going about it. As Peter Warr says: “It gave rise to some of the casual remarks he made like: ‘I’m only going to do this until I’m World Champion, cash in and then quit’ thing. You don’t hear those sort of remarks from people who don’t think about it.”

  When Hunt finally did retire, his youngest brother David asked him for financial help in becoming a racing driver himself. Although James could well afford it, he refused point blank to give him any money.