DEREK BELL
The Legend
It felt strange watching the Le Mans 24 Hours from the comfort of my sofa rather than being at the circuit in person. That said, I followed it intently. While the identity of the winning marque was practically preordained, there was still plenty of action. Sure, there were a few incidents that left me in no doubt that a few drivers were out of their depth. It also continues to disappoint that the premier LMP1 class is a shadow of its former self, with Toyota being the only major brand left. Even so, well done to the team for taking its third win in a row.
It was also great to see Brendon Hartley claim his second victory as a driver alongside Sébastien Buemi and Nazuki Nakajima. I know Brendon well. He’s a super chap so I was thrilled for him. I was also delighted to see Paul di Resta claim LMP2 honours in the United Autosports car he shared with Philip Hanson and Felipe Albuquerque. For me, this hotly contested class was where the real interest lay, thanks to the depth of driver talent and wealth of entries. Fifth place overall and category honours was a superb result. Well done, too, to Aston Martin, which seems to have rediscovered its mojo as a player in GTs following a couple of fallow years.
Which brings me via an awkward segue to a former winner of the great race; one who had quite the impact on my early career, even if he was unaware of the fact. Jochen Rindt lost his life at Monza in October 1970 during practice for the Italian Grand Prix, and his loss is still felt by those who knew him. I have read a few bits and pieces about Jochen in the specialist press of late, but what rather tipped me over the edge was being sent some black-and-white footage from the 1969 Tasman series. It was professionally shot stuff, too, all of which was unfamiliar to me. It was revelatory, not least because I looked so young! Memories just flooded back like a tsunami, and Jochen was up there, front and centre.
I cannot claim to have been great mates with Jochen; certainly not like Sir Jackie Stewart, who was his next-door neighbour as well as perhaps his fiercest rival. They were incredibly close, but then ‘Wee Jackie’ always has been a friend of the stars! I was a nobody when I first competed against Jochen, and even that might be overstretching things. You have to remember that he was the king of Formula 2 from the mid-1960s on. The German-born Austrian won dozens of races at a time when it wasn’t uncommon for F1 ‘names’ of the day to step down a class and mix it with the young pups. It meant that wannabes like me got to measure their worth against the likes of Jim Clark, Graham Hill and other superstars.
The thing is, Jochen was pretty much invincible. Seriously, this was a hugely popular category, with races staged all over Europe. It didn’t matter where we were, though, he would usually rock up in time for second practice, before bagging pole and winning the race. I would say I learned a lot simply from watching him, but that was only when I could get close enough to sneak a peek. He may have been having a rubbish time of it in motor sport’s top tier, but he owned Formula 2 when I arrived in the category.
He had a certain air about him, too. I have read that he could be aloof, but he wasn’t that way with me. He looked like a boxer, but he had style and panache. I never found him to be anything other than charming; certainly not above it all. When we were competing Down Under, I would say that I got to know him well.
In fact, I spent seven weeks that winter with the likes of Chris Amon, Piers Courage, Graham Hill and so on. We virtually lived inside each other’s pockets. One of the highlights from my time out there was finishing second to Jochen at Warwick Farm. He was in his Lotus 49B, me in the little Ferrari Dino 246T. On the podium he congratulated me and intimated that I had kept him on his toes. He didn’t have to say anything. It meant a lot that he did, believe me.
At this time, Jochen had yet to win a points-paying Grand Prix, but later that year he broke his duck at Watkins Glen. In 1970, he was a threat everywhere, particularly aboard the Lotus 72 once the handling had been sorted. He was the first-ever posthumous Formula 1 World Champion.
I hope there will never be another. And I do wonder what he might have achieved had he lived. I suspect at least one more title would have been his for the asking, but some articles state that he had been considering quitting. Whatever the truth, he left an indelible impression on motor racing, and on me.
‘MEMORIES JUST FLOODED BACK LIKE A TSUNAMI, AND JOCHEN RINDT WAS UP THERE, FRONT AND CENTRE’