Clay Regazzoni's operatic F1 career

Lambert’s team-mate in the self-styled London Racing Team was none other than Max Mosley, now president of motor racing’s international governing body. “I wasn’t far behind them when the accident occurred,” he remembers. “I saw Clay upside down where he’d come to rest, a hand just emerging from beneath the car. After the accident there was a lot of criticism of Clay’s driving, but I don’t really recall him being particularly outrageous. The fact is that this accident was a bit like the Luciano Burti/Eddie Irvine collision in this year’s Belgian Grand Prix. But in somewhat less robust machinery.”

Nevertheless, Regazzoni was vilified by some sections of the media, particularly in the UK, where Lambert’s distraught father bombarded the press with lengthy critiques of Regazzoni’s behaviour. He even offered to go wheel to wheel with him in Formula Fords in what seemed to be an embarrassingly confused bid to avenge his son’s death. A sad and painful postscript to an extremely unfortunate racing accident, these events cast a shadow over Regazzoni’s reputation for some time, however unfairly.

Clay flirted with Ferrari’s F2 programme in 1969, but the 1.6-litre V6-engined Dino 166s were less than reliable and he reverted to Tecno mid-season, and stayed with the Pederzanis to win the 1970 European F2 Trophy. But by the time he clinched that title, at Imola in September, he’d already won the Italian GP — and secured a place in Maranello’s F1 squad for the foreseeable future. He recorded one win, three seconds, two fourths, three (consecutive) fastest laps, one pole and never qualified lower than sixth during a memorable eight-race F1 intro during the second half of 1970.

The next two years, however, were to be a relative, winless disappointment, partnering Jacky Ickx. His consolation was sharing the winning Ferrari 312PB sports prototype with the Belgian in the Monza 1000Km and Kyalami Nine Hours.

He then tangled memorably with Stewart’s Tyrrell-Ford on the last lap of the ’72 German Grand Prix. JYS:”I was right on his tail going down through the forest after the North Curve. At the bottom of that hill there’s a right-hander, followed by a left, which leads out towards Flugplatz.”

Later that year, though, his pal Lauda crashed heavily at the Nürburgring and sustained serious burns. The pressure now fell upon Clay to salvage the championship. In many ways, the rugged Swiss would be as much a casualty of the ’76 season as his hapless mate. Lauda hovered between life and death for several days, but eventually recovered and returned to the cockpit. Neither he nor Regga, however, could prevent the drivers’ title from falling into the hands of James Hunt. And even before the end of the year, Clay was ditched in favour of Carlos Reutemann, despite assurances to the contrary. Regazzoni never forgave Old Man Ferrari his duplicity.

Two relatively unproductive years followed, one with Mo Nunn’s tiny Ensign team (1977) and one with Shadow (1978). Clay loved driving for Nunn. “Please put the kettle off,” he would say to Mo’s first wife, Sylvia, when hinting that a cuppa might be nice. He revelled in Ensign’s matey, family environment.

Jackie Oliver’s Shadow was ostensibly better funded but, in reality, was one step further down the ladder to career oblivion. But a surprising lifeline awaited him in ’79.

He grabbed it.

And made the most of it.

Frank Williams wanted an experienced hand to drive alongside Alan Jones in his fledgling F1 operation. He chose Clay. The timing was perfect .

“I remembered that when he’d last driven a world-class car, back in ’76, he’d driven everyone into the ground at Long Beach,” explains Sir Frank. “He scored a lot of points and rarely crashed. Perhaps not the greatest F1 driver in the world, but absolutely superb on his day certainly more than a number two and a happy,uncomplicated man. It worked out very well. We did each other a favour.

“Clay is an absolute gentleman, very different from most racing drivers. He genuinely loved racing for its own sake. A totally adorable character.”

It was with Williams that he scored the last, and most memorable, GP win of his career. Those who were present at Silverstone that day will recall with a lump in their throat the moment Clay’s FW07 tore into view through Woodcote to win the British Grand Prix. It was Frank’s first F1 victory.

But Clay was just two months shy of his 40th birthday when he celebrated that day with orange juice, in deference to Williams’s consortium of Saudi Arabian sponsors. He probably knew his time in front-line F1 was running out, and there was no bitterness when the ever-pragmatic Williams replaced him with Carlos Reutemann in 1980.

Instead, he returned to Mo Nunn’s little Ensign operation. During the Long Beach Grand Prix, scene of his memorable drive four years earlier, the titanium brake pedal distorted under heavy load and, despite down-changing frantically from fifth to third in a desperate bid to slow the car, he slammed down an escape road at the end of Shoreline Drive and smashed into the Brabham BT49 of Ricardo Zunino, which had been abandoned earlier in the race.

The resultant disability may have ended his F1 career, but despite being confined to a wheelchair, Clay continued to compete in events like the Paris-Dakar Rally in hand-controlled machinery. He also opened a disabled drivers’ school, suffusing those around him with optimism and the power of positive thinking.

Star quality comes in diverse forms. Clay Regazzoni very definitely has his own particular variety. And he has it in heaps.