Francois Cevert

The advent of the internet has enabled younger racing fans access to information about some of the heroes of the past, and many of these drivers have become icons for a new generation.One driver who inspires much coverage, and deservedly so, is the stylish Francois Cevert, who left a genuine legacy during his relatively brief career, which ended with his tragic accident at Watkins Glen in 1973.

Cevert embodied everything that was great about that period in racing, the free-wheeling early 1970s.  Sadly, whilst epitomising an era, he also fell victim to its ever-present perils.  Much of the attention now given to him probably stems from a perception that he was a man denied his destiny, being cut down just as he was reaching his prime.

I have long been an admirer of the Jackie Stewart/Tyrrell era, and have therefore been exposed to a good deal of footage, literature and information concerning Francois. A handsome, charismatic and cultured young man, he seems to have made an indelible impression on all those who met him. Whenever I have seen Jackie Stewart, Ken Tyrrell or anyone else associated with the tight-knit team interviewed about Francois, one could sense the genuine affection in which he was held.

The Parisian spent his entire Formula 1 career in the homely but efficient confines of the Tyrrell team, after being given his chance following Johnny Servoz-Gavin's sudden decision to retire in 1970. Cevert had the backing of fuel company Elf, but Jackie Stewart's promptings, having raced against the youngster in Formula 2, also seem to have weighed heavily. 

The rest of the 1970 season was very much a bedding-in stage, but the newcomer clocked up valuable mileage, and before too long was delivering consistent performances.  The March 701 might have been a reasonable vehicle with which a youngster to find his feet, but as the year progressed it was surpassed by the developments and innovations of the more established constructors.  The introduction of Tyrrell's own car, although initially entrusted only to Stewart, boded well for 1971.

It was now that Cevert truly began to come under the tutelage of Stewart, and began to develop very much in the Scotsman's image; smooth, and with mechanical sympathy.  Francois was aspiring to emulate Stewart's facility for setting up a car to be easy to drive, thereby minimising errors and encouraging consistent lap times in the races.

In the early races of 1971, Cevert was playing himself in gently, still learning, and also adapting to the new car.  Around the mid-point of the season, however, things started to come together.  His first podium finish was achieved, appropriately, on home turf at Paul Ricard, and his gesture of exultation as he crossed the line indicated that he felt that a major threshold had been crossed. After another second place in Germany, he was then in the thick of the frenetic action at Monza, eventually finishing a very close third.

Finally, at the season finale at Watkins Glen, New York, he scored his maiden Grand Prix victory, winning fair and square.  It was one of those days when the whole F1 community was genuinely pleased for the winner.  Little did anybody know that this would be his sole World Championship victory in Formula 1.

As can often happen to a rising talent, the Cevert star waned somewhat in 1972.  Whether Cevert began to over-analyse or over-theorise is difficult to say, but the Tyrrell team was admittedly in a state of transition at the time, and the health problems suffered by team leader Stewart may have unsettled his understudy.  The new car introduced at mid-season was temperamental, and the Frenchman infamously crashed it during practice at Clermont-Ferrand.

The downturn of 1972 is regularly used by detractors to assert that Cevert was over-rated.  There were mitigating factors, which we have touched on, but it is difficult to dispute that at many races that year Francois was quite lacklustre. On the plus side, it can be argued that he learned much in adversity, and that the disappointments accelerated his motor racing education, equipping him for the challenges to be faced in the future.

As 1973 dawned, the Tyrrell team was more stable, focussed and prepared, and this was reflected in the consistency shown by Cevert from the outset.  His driving now had real authority and flair, and he was on the pace much more regularly.  Tactical imperatives often dictated that he deferred to Stewart, but Jackie has admitted since that on several occasions that year Francois was perfectly capable of beating him, the Nurburgring being an example of this. The apprentice was now beginning to match the sorcerer.

Francois still seemed content at this stage to gain more experience, and soak up the knowledge and advice imparted by Stewart.  He guessed that 1974 would be his year, although he did not know for sure that the Scot would be retiring at the end of '73.  Cevert thought he had time on his side.  Then came Watkins Glen...

So how good was Francois Cevert, and what heights could he have reached had he lived?

He was only 29 years old when he died, and still developing as a driver. While not blisteringly quick and spectacular in the mould of Peterson or Rindt, he was blessed with some natural ability, and was also acquiring many of the qualities of a "thinking" driver, such as Fittipaldi, Lauda or his mentor Stewart.  The arrangements which prevailed in the Tyrrell team make it awkward to gauge his ultimate potential.  There were de facto team orders, and possible differences in equipment allocated to each driver. Cevert's junior status in the team from 1970-73 must also be considered, giving him less responsibility, and pressure.  Some of the Tyrrell cars of the time were reckoned to be quite tricky to handle, another fact which shows just how masterly Jackie Stewart was...

There has been much debate about whether Cevert would have won the 1974 World Championship.  It is tempting to say "yes", based on the assumption that his upward curve of development would have continued.  However, one also has to point out the resurgence of Ferrari, the continued development of McLaren's M23, and also the disruptive effect that Stewart's departure would have had on Tyrrell, whatever the other circumstances.  Many of the calculations assume that Francois would have immediately blossomed after emerging from Stewart's shadow, and reckon without the generally tighter level of competition in Grand Prix racing in 1974.

In the event, Jody Scheckter, who was effectively the replacement for Stewart, came quite close to winning the championship. We can assume that Cevert would have out-performed the South African, but we will never know for sure what would have transpired.

One thing which we are certain of is the fondness with which Francois Cevert is remembered, much more so than some people who made a greater imprint on the record books than he did.  It is heartening to be reminded that human qualities still mean more to many than mere statistics....