At the beginning of the 70s, for Formula 1, Brazil was an unknown land. The Grands Prix had already raced and thrilled in Argentina, thanks above all to the Fangio epic. But Brazil, in the paddock, was known above all for football: Pele, the third Rimet cup won at Azteca in 1970 against Gigi Riva’s Italy, a new wave of myth, of passion. The landscape began to change with Emerson Fittipaldi. Raised in the minor formulas of his country, ‘shot’ in England where a certain Colin Chapman elevated him in a flash from Formula 3 to the F1 World Championship, the driver from São Paulo won the 1972 World Championship with Lotus and immediately became a national idol.
“From the almost disinterest in racing – remembers today Emerson, 75 years old in December, two world titles and a consolidated racing empire, also winning in Indianapolis and becoming one of the kings of racing America – we passed in a moment to the utmost attention. On Monday morning, in any bar in São Paulo, we asked ourselves: ‘How did Emerson go yesterday in that Grand Prix in Europe?’. On my return to Brazil, after winning the ’72 World Championship with Lotus, a sea of crowds awaited me. The streets of downtown São Paulo were blocked several hours from a tide of Brazilians going crazy as I passed in an open car“.
In fact, those images have gone around the world. Fittipaldi sitting on the back of a convertible, wife Maria Helena rejoicing at her side. He with a pair of sideburns that are unlikely today while in a jacket and a blessing outfit he parades among a crowd that Brazil will only meet in the first week of May 1994, for Ayrton’s funeral procession Seine. And it is curious that precisely in that 1972, for the first time, Brazil experienced the atmosphere and magic of the Grand Prix.
“It was an almost mandatory decision – remembers Fittipaldi –. The great passion for the Grand Prix, sudden and very strong like all the passions of Brazil, practically imposed a race on our territory. And at that time the only possible circuit for a world championship race was Interlagos, which the world immediately discovered as an exceptional circuit. It was nearly eight kilometers long (almost double the current one), continuously uphill or downhill except for the long straights which allowed crazy speeds. Turns 1 and 2, two very fast lefts, were parabolic, more inclined than at Indy. La Ferradura a large, extremely fast left hairpin. And the Curva do Sol another curve of over 180 degrees, right and very fast: it was called that because when you were in the middle of the curve you found the sun in your face, and for a couple of seconds it was impossible to keep the view in perfect focus. After the Nurburgring, which was undoubtedly the most difficult and fascinating track in the world, Interlagos had immediately taken its place. And it was a very technical circuit. I was lucky enough to know him by heart from the very first lap with an F1: he was a considerable advantage over my competitors. In fact I dominated the race, I made the pole position and also the fastest lap. Until a rear suspension of my Lotus gave way right at the entrance to the last corner before the pits. I found myself at two hundred an hour in the back, and entered the pit lane like this, miraculously without hitting anywhere. At the end of the race, won by Carlos Reutemann, an English journalist ran towards me and yelled at me: ‘Emerson, you were exceptionally cold!’. And I: ‘But what coldness? I no longer had any control: I got a sensational ass’“.
That first Grand Prix do Brasil was not valid for the World Championship: it was raced after the GPs of Argentina and South Africa, and after the Race of Champions in Great Britain, also without world championship validity. But in the meantime the Fittipaldi firework ended: the Brazilian director Roberto Farias even shot a film about him, ‘O fabulous Fittipaldi‘, and the race was part of the World Cup the following year. Emerson arrived there as a world champion: those days were for him of continuous celebration. Wings of the public were waiting for him outside the racetrack since Thursday: it took police relays to allow him to arrive on the track on time. As reigning world champion, he drove a Lotus even faster than that of the ’72 title: three wins and a third place in the first four races. The second part of the season was tougher: brake problems in Sweden, off the road when he was leading in France, failure of a joint in Great Britain, physical problems with a retirement after two laps in the Netherlands. However that World Cup could be his, the fight was against Jackie Stewart’s Tyrrell and it was still open. But the rivalry with his Lotus partner, Ronnie, had intervened Peterson…
“The rivalry was a bogus problem: Ronnie and I were delighted to be fighting with the same car. He was very fast. But I was fighting Jackie for the title, and that didn’t help persuade Lotus to treat me a little better. The line was crossed at Monza: I needed a win to stay in the fight for the title; in the race I was second behind Ronnie and Colin Chapman never gave the team order I asked him, if it was needed. Stewart took his third title and I left Lotus for McLaren: that’s all“.
But that 1973 GP at Interlagos, the second race of the championship, was nevertheless his apotheosis: “The Grand Prix in those days were something unrepeatable. They were a party, the times were special: I remember them as Hippie Time. On the circuit you ran and took risks, but there was also a lot of life. Of fun. Of girls, above all“.
But Maria Helena, his wife at the time, presided over the paddocks and pit-lanes with black goggles and a wide-brimmed white hat: she looked like an actress, but she kept an eye on him. “Yeah… he wouldn’t let me go for a minute. But I understood her: around me there was really a lot, a lot of movement. And then it was hot, there was the sun, all that summer clothing. How many girls, so many beautiful. How many temptations …“.
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