How Formula 1 has lost its humanity

Back in the day, there was something gloriously exotic and aloof about Jacky Ickx. In the 1960s and early '70s he cut a figure of elegance, occupying the same stratosphere as Sir Jackie Stewart and Jochen Rindt - and yet somehow standing apart. He was always his own man.

Today, the contrast to that cold 'untouchable' is stark, only more so when the 72-year-old Belgian maestro speaks with emotion about the modern sport having lost touch with its human essence.

To those who knew him when he twirled grand prix Ferraris and Gulf GT40s with a clinical, otherworldly talent, his words might raise an eyebrow.

"The drivers today are very talented, but their wings have been cut," he says in his wonderfully characterful English. "They could fly very high. But we have lost contact with the human aspect."

We meet in the bowels of east London's ExCel complex, scene of the London Classic Car Show and the new Historic Motorsport International, which Jacky is set to open later in the day. The pokey, plain office overlooking the hall that's still in-build seems far too mundane for such a motor racing colossus.

It's just after 9am, long before the show will open, but he walks in looking immaculate in tailored navy suit and matching tie. The charisma almost visibly glows as he smiles, shakes hands and makes cheerful small-talk.

"The thing to say is I lasted long - very long - and... I was lucky to survive," he says on reflection of a three-decade career that took him from motorcycle trials to eight grand prix wins, 50-odd sportscar victories all over the world, a Can-Am title and Paris-Dakar Rally success in a Mercedes.

"Very few people in motor racing did as much. The only one who has probably done more than me is Mario Andretti. But you see, it's not to say that we are better than those of today. It's only a matter of circumstances."

Autosport's recent 'all-rounder' special issue highlighted all too clearly that plenty of modern racing drivers away from the glare of the F1 spotlight manage careers in the best traditions of Ickx, Andretti, Vic Elford and co. But the fact remains at the pinnacle, racing drivers live a much more monochrome existence than their distant predecessors.

"The circumstances are that in the 1960s, the '70s and even a little bit in the '80s we were, in a way, amateurs," admits Ickx. "There was a certain freedom - a large freedom. One aspect was that you were able to drive for the Ford Motor Company and Ferrari at the same time. It's something you can't conceive today."

Jacky is respectful of modern racing drivers. It's just that he feels a little sorry for them.

"To me they are very talented on the engineering side, on the understanding of simulators, computers and technology," he says. "But unfortunately for them their wings have been cut. Professional exclusivity only allows you to do one type of competition at a time. That's probably the biggest difference between yesterday and today, that relative freedom."

For all the dangers and many casualties of the deadly eras he raced in, Ickx wouldn't want to have swapped his time for a career in the 21st Century.

"I'm not convinced I would have been good for the extreme need today to be a professional, concentrating 110 per cent of your time and dedicated to only one goal," he says. "For us, we were dedicated, but for three days a week and for probably 40 weekends a year because we were doing saloon car racing, F2, long-distance in my case...

"We were busy, but frankly racing teams and drivers around the world, if you compare them to F3 or GP2 today, were really amateurs.

"The physical aspect was not so important. We were racing almost every weekend, so we were fit. But can you imagine: lunch was in the Ferrari truck, with prosciutto, spaghetti, grana, a glass of Lambrusco... if someone had a small glass of wine today you would be fired immediately. Things were different."

He chuckles when he considers F1 today, particularly the new technical regulations that for once have been focused on making cars faster rather than slower, and are openly inspired by earlier eras.

"It's amusing, the story is a permanent circle," he smiles. "Suddenly, after all these years, we discover the idea of cars having more downforce, big tyres on the rear and so on. In the 1970s all cars had huge rear tyres and at the end of the decade you had wing cars with incredible downforce, but without power steering and manual gearshifts.

"The girls have long skirts, then they have short. Us men, we have the same with the style of pants. I have plenty of hope to see this philosophy, and that [physical] aspect, coming back because what people want to see is something special.

"When it looks too easy, too simple, without emotions..."

He drifts off, but you know where's he going.

It's well known Ickx clashed with Jackie Stewart over the safety crusade that would eventually change motorsport for ever - and for the better. It's not that he didn't care. The walk-don't-run protest at the traditional Le Mans start in 1969 is proof of that.

But again, Jacky was his own man. Driver unions and strikes just weren't his way. Today, the old independent spirit still burns when he speaks critically of modern F1 stewarding.

"Their position is not to modify the races themselves by their own decisions. [Stewards are] changing the face of motor racing in the moment by having investigations here, there and everywhere.

"Too many rules, too much interference in overtaking with penalties. They [the drivers] are big boys. We are not talking about a road traffic accident, which is sometimes how these things are treated.

"Motor racing is a competition, a battle between different people to know who is the fastest. I would love to say it's fantastic, but I feel a little bit frustrated."

But having criticised the penalty culture of today, modern racing ethics also offend him. It's evidence of the unspoken line of behaviour that was common among his generation. The majority, particularly the great ones, lived by a hard-but-fair code of conduct.

"It's probably because I'm too old, but it's hard for me to understand how in a grand prix you can change line and block someone who is faster than you for 10-15 laps," says Ickx. "To me it is totally unsporting. But everybody thinks it's fantastic.

"I don't see anything fantastic in changing line to block someone when he is faster. If he is faster, you stay on your line and he passes where he wants - but he has to do it. That's the sort of frustration I have."

In the years following his retirement Ickx was hardly a familiar figure at race circuits, but the growth in popularity of the historic scene has reeled him back in. Jacky is a regular at Goodwood, at Le Mans, at the Grand Prix de Monaco Historique. It's almost as if he's fallen back in love with the sport, or at least with the one he knew.

"I'm a great admirer of Lord March," he says. "Goodwood is the most perfect example that you can produce: it's human. That's why classic car races and motor shows such as this one in London are so successful. In F1, we have lost contact with the human aspect. But Lord March and his team have created a soul, a welcome soul for those who like motor racing.

"Those who organise professional motor sport such as F1 should remember that you depend totally on your customers, your fans. They are the referees to success. If we pay attention to them we can improve all sport fantastically."

New F1 supremo Chase Carey and his Liberty Media crew will already be familiar with such complaints of a disconnect at the top of modern motor racing. Ickx hopes they'll not only listen, but also act.

As for our conversation, our time is up. Jacky shakes my hand warmly, offers a genuine smile, then welcomes a TV crew waiting patiently for their turn with the philosophical old master.

Ickx is not the man he once was, that's clear. He was a rarified superstar back in the day. Now time and perspective have made him a legend.