Watson Denies Hunt the Advantage
Lauda Watches from His Hospital Bed
Austria: August 13–15, 1976
Niki Lauda’s accident and the Ferrari team’s absence from the 1976 Austrian Grand Prix was the worst possible news for the organizers and promoters of the race. Lauda and the Ferrari team were its biggest draw, and their absence cost the promoters hundreds of thousands of dollars in lost ticket income. Enthusiastic Italians had always poured over the borders between Austria and Italy to support the Ferrari team. Now they didn’t come.
The promoters were very surprised when Daniele Audetto withdrew the entire Ferrari team; they had been expecting a replacement driver in Lauda’s car at the very least. The damage was compounded by the loss of Clay Regazzoni, which also decimated the Swiss fan contingent, who usually traveled to Austria to see him race. Tens of thousands of them who normally flocked over the Swiss border stayed away.
In the days after Lauda’s accident, Audetto had argued strongly that the Grand Prix at the Österreichring should be canceled altogether out of respect for Niki Lauda. It would have suited Ferrari perfectly had that happened. But the campaign to cancel the race incensed the organizers, and the compassionate plea was greeted with cynicism by those accustomed to Ferrari’s reputation for manipulating situations to the team’s advantage. There was no possible reason to cancel the race, and Audetto knew it. But it was his job to try.
With that route exhausted, and against Audetto’s advice, Enzo Ferrari withdrew his cars from the Austrian event, ostensibly as a mark of respect for Lauda. But the decision demonstrated that at 78 years old, he seemed incapable of rational decision making. But there was now no doubt that he was back in charge and calling the shots after the departure of Luca di Montezemolo.
Enzo announced he felt cheated by what had happened at the Appeal Court in Paris and at Brands Hatch in the British Grand Prix. Enzo threatened to boycott Formula One until such a time when “the rules were enforced and justice prevailed.” Bizarrely, Enzo also blamed Lauda personally for causing the crash at the Nürburgring, thereby absolving his own engineers of any blame for the mechanical failure that was known to have caused the accident. James Hunt felt very sorry for Lauda and what was happening in his absence. Speaking to reporters, he called Enzo Ferrari “an old man behaving like a child.”
Lauda certainly didn’t want the race canceled or for Ferrari to withdraw. He told reporters what he wanted more than anything at that moment was “a feeling of continuity and trust.” He said he was “troubled” by what Audetto had said. But that was nothing compared to the anger he felt when he heard that Audetto had announced the withdrawal of the Ferraris from the race altogether. He instantly realized that this decision would severely harm his world championship chances and aid Hunt’s significantly. He rang Luca di Montezemolo to try and get the decision reversed, but Montezemolo felt powerless to intervene after finding out it was a direct order from Enzo Ferrari.
The withdrawal of Ferrari was celebrated back at the McLaren factory in Colnbrook. McLaren had been careful not to express any view or to make any comment on Lauda’s accident, but the withdrawal of the whole Ferrari team from a crucial race at a crucial point in the championship was a gift from heaven for the British team.
Going into early August, McLaren was at the height of its powers. After Hunt’s victory in Germany, the team was a genuine championship contender, and James Hunt had all the momentum of a successful challenger. Hunt had won the last three grand prix races on the trot—four, if the reinstated Spanish win was counted. He was now a firm second in the world championship with 47 points; within 11 points of Lauda’s score of 58. A championship bid that had looked impossible just four weeks ago now looked highly plausible.
In the process, Hunt had become one of the most famous sportsmen in the world. His marriage, divorce, and succession of girlfriends, combined with his extraordinary success on the track, had made him a national hero in Britain. It was enhanced even more by the fact that he had taken on and beaten the “German” enemy, Lauda—even though Lauda was Austrian. Although the Second World War had ended 31 years earlier, it was still very fresh in the minds of the many 50-plus-year-olds who had fought in it. They were rooting for Hunt with the same enthusiasm as if the war was being fought all over again. Without question, Hunt was more popular than any Formula One driver in history.
There was also renewed harmony within the McLaren team. Mutual respect had broken out, and Hunt was now at one with the McLaren team management. The attitude of Teddy Mayer and Alastair Caldwell had totally changed. They now loved him and issued a press release saying as much; Hunt was delighted at finally being accepted by Mayer and Caldwell.
In a prepared statement issued to the press, Caldwell said, “I think Britain now has another Jimmy Clark situation with James Hunt. He is a super driver.” Hunt was extremely flattered by the comparison with Clark. Teddy Mayer was even more effusive toward Hunt. He had never been known to praise a driver before, not even Fittipaldi, but now Mayer went so far as to say that Hunt was the best driver the team had ever employed: “Of all the drivers we’ve had, James has the greatest talent by far, in fact. He possibly makes more mistakes than, say, Emerson Fittipaldi, but he is certainly quicker than Emerson ever was when he drove for us. I think James is as consistently fast a driver as anyone I’ve ever seen.”
Mayer wasn’t finished and went on to compare Hunt with yet another of his heroes: “I would begin to compare his talent with Jackie Stewart’s in his ability to win races driving a car that, in my opinion, is about the same as many others. Drivers like Jimmy Clark generally won races because they had superior cars. I think James’s car is good, but I don’t think it’s any better than several other cars. Possibly it’s more reliable, but it’s quick because James is quick.”
The setting for the Austrian Grand Prix was the 3.67-mile Österreichring circuit, a magnificent venue located 60 miles from Graz and laid out on the foothill slopes of the Alps in beautiful countryside. Österreichring was arguably the most beautiful circuit on the Formula One calendar.
The race was preceded by a week of private testing at Österreichring with Goodyear. Hunt dominated the testing, which was cut short by rain showers. Interestingly, the rest of Europe was enjoying an unprecedented heat wave that summer, with over 60 days of unbroken sunshine since late May. The only place it rained that summer was Austria.
McLaren had its new McLaren-Ford M26 car in Austria but kept it under a canvas sheet. It had been used by Hunt in the private testing session but had proved to be half a second slower. The car’s designer, Gordon Coppuck, said, “Testing a new car is a little difficult when the old one happens to be going so well.”
The new M26 was an advanced design with an aluminum and Nomex honeycomb chassis. It had a foil cell structure sandwiched between the aluminum panels, a design taken from the airplane industry. But it had inherent problems, not least with its fuel system, which couldn’t suck up the last few gallons in the tank. This indicated a design fault, and one not easily rectified.
Coppuck was the first of a new breed of race car designers. His pedigree was unmatched, and he had joined McLaren from the National Gas Turbine Establishment and was appointed chief designer in 1968. As well as the M23 and the M26, he had designed the legendary M8 series of McLaren Can-Am cars, arguably the single most successful car in motor racing history. The M8 dominated the American sports car series for over five years, winning virtually every race held in that time. But the M23 was destined to become his most successful car, with a five-year lifespan and two world championships in that time. Its secret was being kept right down to the weight limit throughout its life, as well as some clever underfloor aerodynamics that created extra downforce.
The M26 car was his first failure, although everyone expected he would eventually turn it into a race-winning car given time. The continued success of the M23 had given him that time.
When Hunt arrived in Austria for the eleventh race of the 1976 Formula One world championship, despite the disappointing M26 testing, he couldn’t have been on a greater high. No drink or drugs were needed to sustain him that golden weekend in the middle of August. It seemed as if the sun was shining on him. What’s more, he was about to race on Lauda’s home territory in his rival’s absence.
Lauda had been knocked out of the championship, and no one at that stage thought he would return before the end of the season. So at that moment, with six races still to run, Hunt looked almost certain to be world champion in 1976.
Hunt’s joy was compounded that weekend because it was now clear that Lauda had survived his accident and would not die.
There had also been some doubt about the seriousness of his internal injuries when it emerged that a Catholic priest had administered the last rites. But the suspicions of insiders were raised because Lauda was a confirmed atheist, and apparently apart from when forced by his wife Marlene (for christenings, wedding, and funerals), he had never been known to step inside a church in his life.
It had been suggested by those who knew him that he was perhaps playing mind games with Hunt. Wanting Hunt to believe he would not be returning, he might have been trying to convince people he was more seriously injured than he really was. Certainly, while his outwards burns were horrific and disfiguring, they were not life threatening. And when, two weeks after the accident, it leaked out that Lauda was sitting up in his hospital bed, signing autographs for the nurses, and watching the Austrian Grand Prix on television, it didn’t square with the administration of last rites by a priest just a few days earlier.
But Hunt put all that out of his mind as he got on with the serious business of trying to win the race and, failing that, scoring as many points as possible while Lauda was away. Despite the heat elsewhere in Europe, it rained for both qualifying days, and because the land was so dry from the heat wave, the water rolled off the hills and gathered in pools behind the circuit. But none of it really affected Hunt, who, with the Ferraris absent, could afford to take it easy. He turned in a time that gave him his easiest pole position yet. The fast circuit suited him and his car perfectly. He would later set a new lap record at an average speed of 137.83 miles per hour.
With Lauda gone, Hunt looked around and found an unfamiliar bearded face alongside him on the front row. Ulsterman John Watson had put his Penske-Ford car on the front row of the grid. It was Watson’s best moment in a stop-start career that had seen him drive for five different teams in three years with no noticeable success—apart from having an obvious talent for driving a car fast. In 30 races in the previous three years, he had scored points only twice: the highlight being a fourth place in Austria in 1974, driving a Brabham.
But he had come good in 1976, signing on as number one driver for the Penske team. Since then he had visited the podium twice already. Penske was a well-managed team, run by American auto industry entrepreneur Roger Penske and managed by Heinz Hofer, a very precise Swiss German. It was a poignant race for the team, as a year earlier Penske’s partner and number one driver, Mark Donohue, had crashed on the morning of the race. The victim of a tire failure, he was critically injured and died later that day in the hospital.
Watson had taken Donohue’s place in the team, and it had been his big break. Although he was on the front row, however, he must have been dispirited when he came in a whole second slower than Hunt. Hunt attempted to excuse the Ulsterman for being so much slower, saying, “I knew that Watson was quite capable of going as fast. It was just that I’d got organized, had a new set of tires fitted, and gone quick before he had a chance to build up speed.”
Amazingly, rain threatened again on race day, slightly delaying the race start. But as the dark skies turned blue, the cars lined up on the grid. Frightened of the consequences of running cars in the rain, the organizers informed the drivers that the race would be stopped if it rained suddenly. The high-speed circuit when wet was too dangerous for cars on slick tires, which were designed for dry running.
From the start line, Hunt got away first for a change and led Watson. It was the briefest of leads, as Watson quickly passed him and the cars swept down the long straight from the top of the hill.
For two laps, Watson, Hunt, Ronnie Peterson in his March-Ford, and Jody Scheckter’s Tyrrell-Ford all diced for the lead. It was the closest racing Formula One had seen for years. Scheckter took the lead for one lap until a pattern formed with Watson, Peterson, and Swedish driver Gunnar Nilsson’s Lotus-Ford ahead of Scheckter and Hunt.
It soon became apparent that there was a problem with Hunt’s McLaren. It was understeering on full tanks. Hunt recalled: “I was having a real struggle to stay on the road.” Then Scheckter had an enormous accident at the top of the hill on the 14th lap, as the front suspension broke on his car. The Tyrrell-Ford comprehensively destroyed itself, luckily without injury to the driver. Hunt put his head down and proceeded to wring the maximum performance out of his badly handling car. He set his fastest lap of the race, indicating just how hard he had tried.
The understeering problem was due to a damaged front wing, and Hunt could do nothing to stop John Watson winning his first Grand Prix. Hunt was fourth behind Laffite and Nilsson.
The real drama followed the podium ceremony, as Watson, complying with the terms of a bet, shaved off his perennial beard in public to reveal a clean-shaven look, which he was to keep from then on.
Hunt was less than delighted with his fourth place, although Niki Lauda, sitting up in his hospital bed, reportedly whooped and hollered as the checkered flag fell. The score, he quickly worked out, was Lauda 58, Hunt 47. Later that week, Lauda spoke to John Watson on the telephone from his hospital bed and thanked him personally for beating Hunt. He told him: “Anything to stop Hunt getting points.”