The tragedy of Ferrari's most unpopular star

It is 37 years since the death of Gilles Villeneuve, the most beloved racing driver of his generation, a man without whom, for many, motor racing was never the same again.

Intrinsic to the accident at Zolder was the conduct of his Ferrari team-mate, Didier Pironi.

At Imola, two weeks before, the red cars - low on fuel - had been cruising to a one-two, Gilles ahead, but on the final lap, at the last overtaking point, Pironi abruptly whipped past, and stole the victory.

To that moment, Villeneuve had trusted Pironi, but now vowed never to speak to him again: 13 days later, on a banzai lap at the end of qualifying, came the accident.

Pironi would always profess innocence in the Imola affair, claiming he believed they were fighting for the win.

The facts - not least 'Hold' on the team's pit boards - suggested otherwise, but when all was said and done, Villeneuve was gone, leaving Pironi master of all he surveyed at Ferrari. Emotions ran high.

"Imola was about more than stealing a win," said one eminent paddock figure. "Pironi knew what effect it would have on someone of Gilles' mentality, and wanted to undermine him."

In manner, Pironi was quiet, almost timid, and in 1981 seemed content to play the number two role at Ferrari.

Throughout that season Pironi played it humble, stressing his close relationship with Villeneuve, emphasising how much Gilles had helped him. In reality, though, the demons were alive inside him - how was it possible, in equal cars, for another to beat him?

Prior to joining Ferrari, Pironi had driven impressively for Ligier, winning once in 1980 but let down often by poor reliability. Having Jacques Laffite as a team-mate was one thing, however, Villeneuve quite another.

"When Gilles was alive," said Ferrari designer Mauro Forghieri, "he was so obviously the best that we perhaps underestimated Didier, because he was usually beaten by a man with the same car."

As 1982 approached, Ferrari - now with a chassis designed by Harvey Postlethwaite - looked in good shape. At Kyalami neither car finished, but Villeneuve led much of the Brazilian Grand Prix, again conclusively faster than Pironi.

After qualifying in Rio, Gilles asked me if he could have a word. It was about Pironi, who had recently had a huge testing accident at Paul Ricard: "He's a bit shaken up, but he'll be fine by the next race. Can you ask your colleagues to go easy on him this weekend?"

This demonstrated a selflessness almost unknown among grand prix drivers, who rarely pass up an opportunity to capitalise on a team-mate's weaknesses: Villeneuve was a man without guile, and in the aftermath of his death, one wondered if Pironi had any idea of the friendship he had tossed away.

Shortly before the Imola weekend Pironi married Catherine, his longtime girlfriend, and while Ferrari team director Marco Piccinini was present as best man, Gilles and his wife, Joann, were not so much as invited. He thought that strange, and mentioned it during the practice days.

"Joann says I shouldn't be surprised," he shrugged. "She's never trusted Didier..."

Two weeks after Zolder, the clans gathered at Monaco, where Pironi, now the only Ferrari driver, finished second. There followed a third in Detroit, and then it was on to Montreal, where he took pole position at this circuit newly named for Villeneuve.

"I want to dedicate it to Gilles," he said over the PA, "because we all know if he'd been here, he'd have been on pole."

At that moment, I happened to be talking to Keke Rosberg.

"If it hadn't been for him," he muttered, "Gilles would have been here..."

It was a reflection of what many were feeling. At the same time, though, animosity towards the man did not colour judgement of the driver. In the car Pironi was more than good; he was coming to be great, and many saw him as the likely world champion of 1982.

On the Montreal grid, though, he stalled, and into the Ferrari hurtled the Osella of rookie Riccardo Paletti, who suffered terrible injuries, and died an hour later.

At Zandvoort, Pironi won conclusively, then finished second at Brands Hatch, in the process taking the championship lead for the first time. It was in a confident frame of mind that he went to his home race at Ricard. Postlethwaite put it more strongly than that.

"Something very strange came over Didier," he said. "He had big personal problems, but they didn't seem to concern him. He became incredibly arrogant and over-confident about everything - including the fact that he was going to be world champion."

Big personal problems he certainly had, he had become involved with an actress, whom he had met during a photoshoot for Paris Match, and his marriage, barely three months old, was over.

At Ricard, unable to run with the Renaults, Pironi finished third and extended his points lead. Then came Hockenheim.

On the Saturday morning I arrived a little late, and practice was already underway. Fiercely hot the day before, it was now wet and cool.

From the press car park I chanced to look across to the end of the straight before the stadium, and what I saw was a red car high in the air, its nose pointing skyward. Landing tail first, it then began somersaulting, coming to rest at the trackside.

The rescue scene was from Hades. Pironi had suffered the hideous lower leg injuries so common in an era when drivers sat virtually between the front wheels, and his bloodied face was a mask of agony as Sid Watkins and others worked on him.

As Pironi recovered over time, he began to speak of returning to Formula 1, and Enzo Ferrari promised there would be a car for him. No one, though, took either man too seriously. Pironi had raced a car for the last time.

Five years on, now the father of twin sons (named Didier and Gilles), Pironi had turned his competitive instincts to powerboats.

In August 1987 he crashed in the Needles Trophy, off the Isle of Wight. Encountering heavy wash, Pironi declined to back off, and drowned when his boat flipped upside down.

There was sorrow in the F1 paddock, but perhaps less grieving than there might have been.