It's officially tomorrow
In February of 1977, I became aware of Formula One. This fortuitous discovery was made via Reader's Digest and the story of Niki Lauda, recounted in RD's monthly 'Drama in Real Life'. This was the story of how Niki crashed and burned at the 1976 German Grand Prix on the Nurburgring. He went into hospital as a result, and at one point his prognosis was so grim, he was read the Last Rites by a Catholic priest. However, the same determination that saw him walk the 1975 F1 World Championship was put to good use, returning to the wheel of his Ferrari at the Italian Grand Prix in Monza just six weeks later. He lost his Championship crown by a solitary point after he abandoned the sodden Japanese Grand Prix at Fuji, considering the rain-swept conditions too dangerous for the F1 cars - not to mention tires - of the time. The following year, he won three races - including the German Grand Prix - on his way to regaining the World Championship for the second time in three years.
This was my introduction to both F1 and the Ferrari Grand Prix team. I began reading anything related to both F1 and Ferrari, and soon enough found that Road & Track magazine had a monthly feature on the Grands Prix; my first season following F1 was 1978, and by then, Niki had departed Ferrari. His replacement? A Canadian named Gilles Villeneuve.
While Niki was analytical and scientific in his approach to racing, Gilles was anything but. He would take the car by the scruff of its neck and wring every bit of performance he could out of it - every single time. He didn't drive with an eye on the Championship, per se, but to win - every single time. He did so on just six occasions, but that was of no importance to me - I simply loved watching this man ply his trade with abandon; I loved to watch him
race. He hung it out there every time he was out on the track, and for this passionate approach to F1 he was hands-down the crowd favorite of his era. If he was still running, you had the feeling
anything could happen - and frequently did. Winning his first F1 race on home ground in Montreal at the 1978 season-ending Canadian Grand Prix began the fairy-tale of just four years in the top rank. In 1979 he finished second to his Ferrari team-mate Jody Scheckter by a mere 4 points, scoring three three popular victories along the way. 1980 was a barren season for Ferrari and Gilles, while 1981 - with Ferrari's new turbocharged car - yielded two more victories, in Monaco and Spain. In 1982 Gilles turned up for the 1982 season installed in a brand-new concept: the Ferrari 126 C2 - which finally had a superb chassis to match its considerable power.
Tragically, only 4 races into this season, he was killed during qualifying for the Belgian Grand Prix at Zolder. I'll never forget the moment I heard the terrible news, delivered by Brent Musburger in the late afternoon of 8 May, and my visceral reaction: I completely broke down, and was absolutely inconsolable for months. Whenever I read an article or saw a photo of his exploits, tears were never far away. Two years it took to assimilate this loss; Formula One was never again the same for me.
However, inspired first by the successes, trials, and tribulations of Niki Lauda, and subsequently Gilles Villeneuve's amazing, albeit short racing career, I became - and remain to this day - a true, dedicated
tifosi. Win or lose; feast or famine; the highest of highs, and the lowest of lows, my support of Ferrari has endured. Today, at the season-opener in Bahrain, I'll be hoping they add yet another victory to their unbeaten record of (currently) 242 Grand Prix wins. Forza Scuderia Ferrari!
And Gilles? He's gone, but not forgotten. The passion for F1 and Ferrari remains, but no driver since has resonated with me the way Gilles did - and never will again.
This is my tribute to the great man (and his team) which so inspired me in my youth:
Gilles:
thanks for the memories!
Ferrari:
continua buona fortuna!
DD