"If your name is known, it's assumed you will win straight away. This pressure can make you great or destroy you: there's no in-between. You learn to evolve much quicker...if you don't, you're done."
Any things connected with Jacques Villeneuve could be considered unconventional: the grunge look; the oversized driving suits and racing boots with the tongues hanging out; engineers dealing with set-up requests that veered from the norm. He won a world championship in his second season of F1, but his subsequent grand prix career attracted controversy more than celebration.
We're meeting near his home, high above Lake Geneva, on a summer's day. But visibility is less than 20 metres because of drizzle and fog. Typically, he's chosen L'Alchimiste, a modest family restaurant in full swing as the locals from the village gather for lunch. It's a place Jacques knows well, having spent most of his teenage years here in Villars-sur-Ollon following the death of his father, Gilles, during qualifying for the 1982 Belgian Grand Prix.
Gilles Villeneuve's death at Zolder in 1982 hit his family hard © LAT |
Jacques emerged from the shadow of the much-loved Ferrari driver to become his own man by sharing his father's love of speed. The urge to compete continues to be fulfilled by international rallycross; a willingness to say it like it is, is satisfied by F1 punditry for French and Italian TV networks - and, hopefully, a relaxed chat with F1 Racing.
Maurice Hamilton: So here we are, in a place where I guess you did a lot of your growing up.
Jacques Villenueve: Yeah, exactly. I went to boarding school just across the road. This is where I had sex for the first time, my first beer, all this kind of stuff between the ages of 12 and 17. It was good fun. There was a mountain; skiing - it was a blast.
MH: I take it you must feel comfortable here, and even though it was at a difficult time of your life when you first arrived here, that's why you've come back?
JV: It was a strange time because, before my dad died, I'd been living away from home for more than a year. Family life was exploding after his death and, apparently, the energy wasn't good so my mother [Joann] sent me away. It's confusing; it's all a bit fuzzy back then.
MH: You were very young.
JV: I was 11. I do remember when he passed away because that's a very clear memory. It was the first race my mother didn't go to. I remember we were walking back from school. Growing up, we would only get a toy at Christmas or on birthdays.
At the time, there were these little portable black and white video games. I kept pestering my mother and, finally, we stopped and bought one. We got home and the phone call arrived. That memory is super clear. I remember her picking up the phone and, even without saying anything...
MH: You knew?
JV: Yes, I knew. Someone came to stay with us [Jacques and his sister Melanie]. After that, we took a military flight to Canada, which, for an 11-year-old, was a cool experience even though it wasn't at all comfortable. It was very hard for maybe a week or two but, at the same time, it really had a big effect on who I am today because I had to become the man of the family when my mother and my sister were kind of losing it.
It's a terrible thing to say, but it's true because it really helped me to become a man; to become the racer I am. So it was very sad, very hard because he was also my hero. If I got five seconds of his attention, I was in paradise.
Sometimes my mother would force him to take me with him in the helicopter; it would just be me and him. I would sit for hours, not saying anything, and I was happy. It was a very difficult moment but, growing up, my father always taught us it's today and tomorrow that counts, not yesterday. That's how he was. It's something I retained.
MH: What brought you here in the first place?
JV: Patrick Tambay was the first person we lived with when we moved to Europe. After the accident, he suggested to my mother to put us here. I was wanting to ski race, so this was perfect; I loved it here from the first moment. It was like a mini society where you learn about the tricks of living in a society; dealing with the police; people watching you; how to push the limit; how not to push the limit; how to play to the rules.
The learning curve for Villeneuve in Formula 3 was steep © LAT |
Suddenly I came into my own. All the links were gone and it allowed me to cut off completely and maybe that's why there aren't so many memories of my dad, because somehow I just turned a page. That's how I managed to survive it, I guess, in a healthy way. I'd like to think he probably would have been happier to see me reacting in this way. Does that make sense?
MH: Yes, it does. I can imagine Gilles would feel that way because he was a risk taker - but in a calculated way. I'm sure he would have approved of your ski racing.
JV: My mother was hoping I wouldn't go into motor racing. I don't think it was because of the physical danger, but more because she knew I would have a lot of pressure. She didn't know if I'd be good enough, and that could be destructive. She was keeping me away but, one day, an opportunity arose and I started it. She couldn't stop me, so she decided to help me.
MH: I guess she realised there would have been no point because you would have done it anyway.
JV: Exactly. I was 17 and if she had said no, at 18 I would have said: "OK, bye. I'm off."
MH: From what you've said, you were your own man here but, when you went to Italy to start racing, people were asking about your dad a lot more. How did you cope with that?
JV: It should have had a bigger effect, but I didn't realise. I'm lucky because my family was adopted by Italy. My dad was a part of the Italian family; much more than in Canada or anywhere else. So there was a kind of respect. They saw me as a little kid having fun. I looked like a 12-year-old back then, so they protected me a little bit, which was nice.
I was with a good team. A lot of people were wanting to see a continuation of Gilles and what he hadn't achieved. I was saying I didn't care to the point where I didn't want to talk about it. People were getting angry because that was not the answer they wanted.
MH: What was the racing like at that time?
JV: Really good. F3 was a great place to start because there was something like 45 cars in the championship. I hadn't done karting; I hadn't done anything and I didn't realise what I was jumping into. In my mind, I was a race car driver, even when I was 12. It never crossed my mind I actually had to learn. I knew that one day I would be world champion. There was never a moment of doubt. I wasn't even questioning the how or when or if it was going to happen.
It's strange to think like that now. If someone came to me saying the same thing today, I would tell them: "Be careful; you should study a bit more." It was a very good learning experience because it was make or break from the first year.
Damon Hill and other drivers in the same position probably discovered that if you have a name when you start, your first race is already accounted for. If you don't have a name, no one notices. You could be on your third season and people think you're new.
But if your name is known, it's somehow assumed you'll win straight away. This pressure can either make you great or destroy you: there's no in-between. You learn to evolve much quicker with pressure. You become a man very quickly. If you don't, you're done.
MH: Okay, you had no doubts before you arrived, but did you have any once you started racing?
JV: Nope. Never had a doubt. It never crossed my mind. I took all my skiing experience and knew it was a matter of figuring out how to get better. You just have to understand the mechanism of it, that's all. It's logical. Why am I slow here? You just build on it. Things come if you don't give up, if you focus on it. If you have a step to climb, then figure out how to climb it. That's always been my approach, and it worked.
MH: What led to the move to Japan? Was it a financially good move or was this a career step?
JV: I always had a sponsor. I got lucky because, when I started, it was when Camel wanted to have the sons of famous fathers. I signed a contract at 17. It was crazy. Imagine that now!
I did see that year in Japan as my university year because it was the heyday of racing in Japan; there were so many ex-pats there. I was team-mates with Tom Kristensen and Ricard Rydell. Eddie Irvine was in 3000; Ross Cheever and Roland Ratzenberger were there as well.
There were only nine or ten races in the championship but we tested more than we raced and that really helped me to make a step. Also it forced me to work with an engineer who basically didn't speak English; an older Japanese guy with three teeth - but he was brilliant.
That forces you to think more because you have to get information and explain it in a way that is not in English, Italian or French terms. You start imagining how the car is functioning physically; you almost visualise the suspension movement. What would you do to make it better? It's not just understeer or oversteer; that's meaningless. Not speaking the language forces you to go to places you normally wouldn't go to in your brain.
Success in America put Villeneuve on the radar of the F1 world © LAT |
MH: Was this when you were also in sportscars?
JV: Yeah, I was testing a lot in the turbo Toyota Group C; a big, mean machine. Toyota were wanting us to do good stuff with them. This was when Roland Ratzenberger took me under his wing. He was really pushing me to go faster. Most drivers will try to make you go slower because they're afraid for themselves but Roland was really helping out. A few times he would come and park in Tokyo, then sleep in his car.
I appreciated what he was doing. All through my career, I was always like the little kid being helped by someone older. I don't know if they took pity because I looked so young but there was always an older guy, like at school, to protect me. I always had that while coming through the ranks in racing, all the way to the Atlantics.
MH: What's your reflection on when you went to North America and did Formula Atlantic before going into IndyCar?
JV: When I was in Japan, I was invited to do a race in Trois-Rivieres in Canada and ended up on the podium. That's where it started. Players [the tobacco sponsor] wanted me to race in North America, but Toyota wanted me to stay in Japan. But there was an IndyCar contract as part of the Players three-year deal. That's why I went.
MH: When you were in Trois-Rivieres, was there a lot of talk about your dad, because he'd been a bit of a hero at that race? Were you aware of it?
JV: No I wasn't. I really didn't care. I was young, having fun racing. I was living my dad's dream. He had been passionate about his racing; he was living it fully and that's why he was so respected. He wasn't playing at being a race car driver; he was a pure race car driver. So, why should I be different?
As a kid, I learned from him to always respect danger; know where it is and then push the limits and just be better than the others. But don't be afraid to push the envelope.
MH: Going back to that first Atlantic race, how did the IndyCar deal come together so quickly?
JV: It nearly didn't! When Players got us in the office to start working on the IndyCar deal, I walked away. I was going back to Japan because they wanted me to change my helmet design.
I said: "No, I'm not changing my helmet. Bye!" They thought I was joking. I get annoyed when I see drivers change their helmet every race. It's to sell more memorabilia; it's just business.
MH: I agree. The helmet is your signature; it's you.
JV: It's your soul. The other issue is you don't recognise helmets now. They're like a blub of colours. Meaningless.
MH: Where did the pink come from on your helmet? It's very distinctive.
JV: I had a memory of my father designing his own helmet. He had a white helmet and he used crayons to make the design. I took a piece of paper to design mine. My mother was studying to design clothes and stuff at the time, so she had a lot of colours. So I just took colours and that's what came out.
You never know what's at the back of your brain, though. I saw a picture not long ago from when I was very small. My mother was wearing a sweater - and it had the same colours in the same order. I only saw this picture three years ago.
The subconscious is an incredible tool, so maybe it came from there, or maybe it's pure coincidence; I don't know. The helmet has been 99 per cent the same although, through the years, the colours varied a little bit because of the different makers.
Recognisable helmet design hasn't changed much over the years © LAT |
MH: I want to jump ahead a little. You won the Indy 500 and suddenly you're being connected with F1. Was it as simple as that?
JV: I guess it was. The Indy win was very important for Frank Williams, and he arranged the test after that. When I got into an F1 car, that was a huge step.
MH: In what way?
JV: The rhythm in the car; everything was happening so fast. The car was light and nimble: "Whoa, whoa. What's happening? What's going on?" But then you get used to it.
MH: So, F1 was always your goal and you're with Williams; top team, Renault engines, the whole lot.
JV: I didn't think of it like that. When you're busy doing your own race season, you don't really pay attention to what's going on elsewhere. In F1 you can be the best one year and the next year you're in the shit. Bernie Ecclestone was active in me getting to F1 and it turned out well.
MH: Melbourne: first race; you're on pole; you would probably have won but for an oil leak.
JV: Yeah. A tube was put in the wrong place, got squished and the oil was coming out. Actually, it would have changed the championship if I'd won that race because, psychologically, it would have had an effect. And it would have made an eight-point difference; four more for me, four less for Damon Hill.
But it's good to have a year to learn and then a year to win. I've no issue there. That was the first time I had an engineer that was not like an older guy or an experienced guy. I think Jock Clear had less experience than me in racing.
MH: You built up a terrific rapport with Jock.
JV: Yes, because Jock's a sportsman. He was a rugby player, so the psychology was there. He understood it and that's why he was good with Michael Schumacher and that's why he's been good with Lewis Hamilton. It's more than being an engineer; it's not just the numbers.
I found the pace difficult in F1. In IndyCar, we were used to Safety Cars, so there was no point in building a 20-second lead. You built a three-second lead and you stayed there, managing your fuel, your tyres. That's why, at my first F1 win at the Nürburgring, Michael Schumacher finished on my gearbox. I was just managing my pace and I found I had to change that a little bit.
MH: When you won the championship, Damon had moved on and you had Heinz-Harald Frentzen as team-mate. How did they compare?
JV: I learned a lot from Damon, he was such a hard worker. He was really fast. The step I had to take from Atlantic to IndyCar was just as big when I went from IndyCar to F1. I used Damon to help me get there. It was good to have someone like that next to me and it got me ready for the following year, because when Frentzen was signed, he was signed to win the title.
MH: Would you really put it as simply as that?
JV: Yeah, that's how it was said. And that was the wrong thing for them to say because I just destroyed him. The psychological games started - a little bit like Nico Rosberg is doing with Lewis. If you have three teams that can win, you don't need to play that game against your team-mate. But if there's only you or your team-mate who can win - and early in the season it looked like that's the way it would be because we were a lot faster than the Ferraris - and then, somehow, they found a lot of speed, mostly coming out of corners, which was very strange.
But, before that happened, the battle started against him [Frentzen]. My team-mates were always caught sleeping at the start of each season because I would never go fast in winter testing. I was busy working on the setup, not a quali lap. Come first qualifying, I would be quick. Then it was just a question of pounding away. I don't know how many times Heinz-Harald thought he had pole and then, on the last lap, I would nick it away from him. After a while, that wears you down.
The 1997 season boiled down to a battle with Michael Schumacher © LAT |
MH: He was susceptible to that in any case.
JV: Yes he was. Patrick Head helped because he is a tough cookie; the more you stand up to him, the more he respects you. Either that or you get crushed. That's what happened to Frentzen. Patrick made him cry. Patrick at one point said: "Well you should just be more like Jacques and not listen to me."
MH: You moved on to BAR as they joined F1. Was the project overambitious?
JV: No, it wasn't. Look what we managed to build in a short time; not many people have done that. If you look at the first season [1999], the car was quick, but lethal. It was the Mecachrome engine and it was vibrating like crazy - and the car was marginal. So, the vibrations would destroy what little you had; break apart the hydraulics and so on.
The car was quick: I'd be in the top six but I never finished one race in the points. Ricardo Zonta ended up in the grandstand at Silverstone because something broke on the car. Every race I was worried I would get hurt because I was waiting for something to break. You can't go racing like that.
It was a great group of people but the car was too marginal. The mistake was promoting us as going to win straight away. I ended up believing it; you say: "Why not?" We started a great project then when Honda came in, we thought 'Bingo!'
MH: What went wrong?
JV: I don't know. I think this was because it wasn't the 1980s when Honda were the only company making a professional engine for Formula 1. And it wasn't helped by the Japanese mentality that just didn't allow them to tell their bosses something was wrong, so the people in Japan believed everything was OK.
They also attached a lot of significance to horsepower. So there was zero torque in order to get just a tiny bit more horsepower at the top; it was the opposite of Renault.
When we got two podiums, it looked as if we were progressing. After the third year, I spoke to Flavio Briatore about joining Renault. The two contracts were the same. There were no money issues one way or the other and I was 50/50.
It was a tough call because BAR were the team I had built and Honda begged me to stay. At the last minute, I agreed to stay and it looked like it was the right decision because, the following year, Renault were nowhere.
Hindsight is easy. At that point, I didn't know Craig Pollock was going to be pushed away from BAR so, suddenly, my protection was gone, with David Richards coming in. I also didn't know that Honda would turn their back on me in three months. Suddenly, I was the black sheep and I couldn't fight back.
The car was breaking down every race, so that was it. The team were saying they had got rid of me because of money and yet they were paying Jenson Button more when he came in. It was all politics. The sad thing is, the media fell for it. Once that happens, you can't fend for yourself.
MH: Would you say this was one of the most disappointing points in your career?
JV: I would. I had worked so hard for that team. For a couple of seasons, I was the driver with the most test miles. I was working my ass off. Even if we were 18th, I would take the risks; there wasn't one moment when I gave up. I never criticised the team and I have to say I was driving better than I had been in '97.
I could take the lack of results because I knew how hard I had been working. But the lack of comprehension outside the team about what was really going on was more difficult to take.
Return to the Indy 500 this year resulted in a 14th place finish © LAT |
MH: You did drive for Renault for three races at the end of 2004 before a couple of seasons with Sauber. How do those experiences stack up?
JV: I had signed for Sauber for 2005 but persuaded them that going with Renault for three races would be a good experience, particularly as they were running Michelin and I was able to help persuade Michelin go to Sauber [who were on Bridgestone] for 2005 while, at the same time, learning about the tyre.
It also allowed me to work with Fernando [Alonso], which was a very good experience. My engineer was Alan Permane and this, to me, was like working back in the day. In the space of three races, it was a new car; we changed everything. They gave me so much freedom and the fact that they believed what I was saying was a nice aspect.
The way that group of people worked was amazing. I found Fernando to be a fantastic team-mate; super helpful. Even the times when I was ahead were not an issue.
MH: If you got to know Fernando that well, you must have watched his move to McLaren with interest in 2007?
JV: At McLaren, he got a bit of what I got when Jenson was brought into BAR. It was like they said to Fernando: "Lewis is our future; you're just the world champion, so shut up." Basically, they were using Alonso to build up Lewis; that's what he didn't like. So, he decided to bring the team down - and he was right.
You don't need to push the new guy that early; he'll be right in three years. Just wait and let your world champion do what he has to do. I think that's where McLaren were wrong. Fernando did the only thing he could do.
MH: And Sauber? You did two seasons.
JV: I got there and was told: "Shut up and drive; we know what's best for the car. We don't want your input on the setup." That was due to Willy Rampf. The rest of the engineers were great and I always got on with Monisha Kaltenborn. I complained through the media about requests for changes not being met and, when they wrote it, Sauber were obliged to put on the dampers I was wanting - and the car was faster.
So, they got even more angry. From then, it got sour, just because of one or two people on the engineering side. But every time I go back now to the team, it's like family, which is great.
MH: I'm surprised you are as cheerful as you are.
JV: Hey, there's always tomorrow. I'm healthy; I've got four boys; I'm making money; I'm still racing when a lot of people aren't racing; I still have the passion. That's why I get frustrated because I love the sport, the racing, the competition. When I see some of the things that happen in F1 and the lack of common sense, it really gets to me. Maybe I'm too passionate.
Over the past few years I've been driving so many things, and that's made me a better driver; it's actually quite fun and exciting. Racing in this year's Indy 500 and getting back up to speed was weird. For the first 20 laps, I was thinking: "I'm going fast; I'm doing OK." And I was only doing 180. "Shit! How will I get to 200?"
It was physical; I couldn't breathe and everything was blurred. I came back one week later and I was up to speed, no problem. It's a matter of the brain assimilating everything; it's still there, somewhere. I would do a setup change and I remembered 19 years ago: the same line, the same feel... everything. We come up with this information and we really don't know where it's come from.
MH: You've certainly got a lot of experiences to fall back on, starting with your school days right here. You've got great recall; thank you for sharing.
JV: It's been fun. Thanks.
This interview appears in the November issue of F1 Racing, which is now on sale and features a 'showdown special' analysis of the 2014 title race.
"If your name is known, it's assumed you will win straight away. This pressure can make you great or destroy you: there's no in-between. You learn to evolve much quicker...if you don't, you're done."
Any things connected with Jacques Villeneuve could be considered unconventional: the grunge look; the oversized driving suits and racing boots with the tongues hanging out; engineers dealing with set-up requests that veered from the norm. He won a world championship in his second season of F1, but his subsequent grand prix career attracted controversy more than celebration.
We're meeting near his home, high above Lake Geneva, on a summer's day. But visibility is less than 20 metres because of drizzle and fog. Typically, he's chosen L'Alchimiste, a modest family restaurant in full swing as the locals from the village gather for lunch. It's a place Jacques knows well, having spent most of his teenage years here in Villars-sur-Ollon following the death of his father, Gilles, during qualifying for the 1982 Belgian Grand Prix.
Gilles Villeneuve's death at Zolder in 1982 hit his family hard © LAT |
Jacques emerged from the shadow of the much-loved Ferrari driver to become his own man by sharing his father's love of speed. The urge to compete continues to be fulfilled by international rallycross; a willingness to say it like it is, is satisfied by F1 punditry for French and Italian TV networks - and, hopefully, a relaxed chat with F1 Racing.
Maurice Hamilton: So here we are, in a place where I guess you did a lot of your growing up.
Jacques Villenueve: Yeah, exactly. I went to boarding school just across the road. This is where I had sex for the first time, my first beer, all this kind of stuff between the ages of 12 and 17. It was good fun. There was a mountain; skiing - it was a blast.
MH: I take it you must feel comfortable here, and even though it was at a difficult time of your life when you first arrived here, that's why you've come back?
JV: It was a strange time because, before my dad died, I'd been living away from home for more than a year. Family life was exploding after his death and, apparently, the energy wasn't good so my mother [Joann] sent me away. It's confusing; it's all a bit fuzzy back then.
MH: You were very young.
JV: I was 11. I do remember when he passed away because that's a very clear memory. It was the first race my mother didn't go to. I remember we were walking back from school. Growing up, we would only get a toy at Christmas or on birthdays.
At the time, there were these little portable black and white video games. I kept pestering my mother and, finally, we stopped and bought one. We got home and the phone call arrived. That memory is super clear. I remember her picking up the phone and, even without saying anything...
MH: You knew?
JV: Yes, I knew. Someone came to stay with us [Jacques and his sister Melanie]. After that, we took a military flight to Canada, which, for an 11-year-old, was a cool experience even though it wasn't at all comfortable. It was very hard for maybe a week or two but, at the same time, it really had a big effect on who I am today because I had to become the man of the family when my mother and my sister were kind of losing it.
It's a terrible thing to say, but it's true because it really helped me to become a man; to become the racer I am. So it was very sad, very hard because he was also my hero. If I got five seconds of his attention, I was in paradise.
Sometimes my mother would force him to take me with him in the helicopter; it would just be me and him. I would sit for hours, not saying anything, and I was happy. It was a very difficult moment but, growing up, my father always taught us it's today and tomorrow that counts, not yesterday. That's how he was. It's something I retained.
MH: What brought you here in the first place?
JV: Patrick Tambay was the first person we lived with when we moved to Europe. After the accident, he suggested to my mother to put us here. I was wanting to ski race, so this was perfect; I loved it here from the first moment. It was like a mini society where you learn about the tricks of living in a society; dealing with the police; people watching you; how to push the limit; how not to push the limit; how to play to the rules.
The learning curve for Villeneuve in Formula 3 was steep © LAT |
Suddenly I came into my own. All the links were gone and it allowed me to cut off completely and maybe that's why there aren't so many memories of my dad, because somehow I just turned a page. That's how I managed to survive it, I guess, in a healthy way. I'd like to think he probably would have been happier to see me reacting in this way. Does that make sense?
MH: Yes, it does. I can imagine Gilles would feel that way because he was a risk taker - but in a calculated way. I'm sure he would have approved of your ski racing.
JV: My mother was hoping I wouldn't go into motor racing. I don't think it was because of the physical danger, but more because she knew I would have a lot of pressure. She didn't know if I'd be good enough, and that could be destructive. She was keeping me away but, one day, an opportunity arose and I started it. She couldn't stop me, so she decided to help me.
MH: I guess she realised there would have been no point because you would have done it anyway.
JV: Exactly. I was 17 and if she had said no, at 18 I would have said: "OK, bye. I'm off."
MH: From what you've said, you were your own man here but, when you went to Italy to start racing, people were asking about your dad a lot more. How did you cope with that?
JV: It should have had a bigger effect, but I didn't realise. I'm lucky because my family was adopted by Italy. My dad was a part of the Italian family; much more than in Canada or anywhere else. So there was a kind of respect. They saw me as a little kid having fun. I looked like a 12-year-old back then, so they protected me a little bit, which was nice.
I was with a good team. A lot of people were wanting to see a continuation of Gilles and what he hadn't achieved. I was saying I didn't care to the point where I didn't want to talk about it. People were getting angry because that was not the answer they wanted.
MH: What was the racing like at that time?
JV: Really good. F3 was a great place to start because there was something like 45 cars in the championship. I hadn't done karting; I hadn't done anything and I didn't realise what I was jumping into. In my mind, I was a race car driver, even when I was 12. It never crossed my mind I actually had to learn. I knew that one day I would be world champion. There was never a moment of doubt. I wasn't even questioning the how or when or if it was going to happen.
It's strange to think like that now. If someone came to me saying the same thing today, I would tell them: "Be careful; you should study a bit more." It was a very good learning experience because it was make or break from the first year.
Damon Hill and other drivers in the same position probably discovered that if you have a name when you start, your first race is already accounted for. If you don't have a name, no one notices. You could be on your third season and people think you're new.
But if your name is known, it's somehow assumed you'll win straight away. This pressure can either make you great or destroy you: there's no in-between. You learn to evolve much quicker with pressure. You become a man very quickly. If you don't, you're done.
MH: Okay, you had no doubts before you arrived, but did you have any once you started racing?
JV: Nope. Never had a doubt. It never crossed my mind. I took all my skiing experience and knew it was a matter of figuring out how to get better. You just have to understand the mechanism of it, that's all. It's logical. Why am I slow here? You just build on it. Things come if you don't give up, if you focus on it. If you have a step to climb, then figure out how to climb it. That's always been my approach, and it worked.
MH: What led to the move to Japan? Was it a financially good move or was this a career step?
JV: I always had a sponsor. I got lucky because, when I started, it was when Camel wanted to have the sons of famous fathers. I signed a contract at 17. It was crazy. Imagine that now!
I did see that year in Japan as my university year because it was the heyday of racing in Japan; there were so many ex-pats there. I was team-mates with Tom Kristensen and Ricard Rydell. Eddie Irvine was in 3000; Ross Cheever and Roland Ratzenberger were there as well.
There were only nine or ten races in the championship but we tested more than we raced and that really helped me to make a step. Also it forced me to work with an engineer who basically didn't speak English; an older Japanese guy with three teeth - but he was brilliant.
That forces you to think more because you have to get information and explain it in a way that is not in English, Italian or French terms. You start imagining how the car is functioning physically; you almost visualise the suspension movement. What would you do to make it better? It's not just understeer or oversteer; that's meaningless. Not speaking the language forces you to go to places you normally wouldn't go to in your brain.
Success in America put Villeneuve on the radar of the F1 world © LAT |
MH: Was this when you were also in sportscars?
JV: Yeah, I was testing a lot in the turbo Toyota Group C; a big, mean machine. Toyota were wanting us to do good stuff with them. This was when Roland Ratzenberger took me under his wing. He was really pushing me to go faster. Most drivers will try to make you go slower because they're afraid for themselves but Roland was really helping out. A few times he would come and park in Tokyo, then sleep in his car.
I appreciated what he was doing. All through my career, I was always like the little kid being helped by someone older. I don't know if they took pity because I looked so young but there was always an older guy, like at school, to protect me. I always had that while coming through the ranks in racing, all the way to the Atlantics.
MH: What's your reflection on when you went to North America and did Formula Atlantic before going into IndyCar?
JV: When I was in Japan, I was invited to do a race in Trois-Rivieres in Canada and ended up on the podium. That's where it started. Players [the tobacco sponsor] wanted me to race in North America, but Toyota wanted me to stay in Japan. But there was an IndyCar contract as part of the Players three-year deal. That's why I went.
MH: When you were in Trois-Rivieres, was there a lot of talk about your dad, because he'd been a bit of a hero at that race? Were you aware of it?
JV: No I wasn't. I really didn't care. I was young, having fun racing. I was living my dad's dream. He had been passionate about his racing; he was living it fully and that's why he was so respected. He wasn't playing at being a race car driver; he was a pure race car driver. So, why should I be different?
As a kid, I learned from him to always respect danger; know where it is and then push the limits and just be better than the others. But don't be afraid to push the envelope.
MH: Going back to that first Atlantic race, how did the IndyCar deal come together so quickly?
JV: It nearly didn't! When Players got us in the office to start working on the IndyCar deal, I walked away. I was going back to Japan because they wanted me to change my helmet design.
I said: "No, I'm not changing my helmet. Bye!" They thought I was joking. I get annoyed when I see drivers change their helmet every race. It's to sell more memorabilia; it's just business.
MH: I agree. The helmet is your signature; it's you.
JV: It's your soul. The other issue is you don't recognise helmets now. They're like a blub of colours. Meaningless.
MH: Where did the pink come from on your helmet? It's very distinctive.
JV: I had a memory of my father designing his own helmet. He had a white helmet and he used crayons to make the design. I took a piece of paper to design mine. My mother was studying to design clothes and stuff at the time, so she had a lot of colours. So I just took colours and that's what came out.
You never know what's at the back of your brain, though. I saw a picture not long ago from when I was very small. My mother was wearing a sweater - and it had the same colours in the same order. I only saw this picture three years ago.
The subconscious is an incredible tool, so maybe it came from there, or maybe it's pure coincidence; I don't know. The helmet has been 99 per cent the same although, through the years, the colours varied a little bit because of the different makers.
Recognisable helmet design hasn't changed much over the years © LAT |
MH: I want to jump ahead a little. You won the Indy 500 and suddenly you're being connected with F1. Was it as simple as that?
JV: I guess it was. The Indy win was very important for Frank Williams, and he arranged the test after that. When I got into an F1 car, that was a huge step.
MH: In what way?
JV: The rhythm in the car; everything was happening so fast. The car was light and nimble: "Whoa, whoa. What's happening? What's going on?" But then you get used to it.
MH: So, F1 was always your goal and you're with Williams; top team, Renault engines, the whole lot.
JV: I didn't think of it like that. When you're busy doing your own race season, you don't really pay attention to what's going on elsewhere. In F1 you can be the best one year and the next year you're in the shit. Bernie Ecclestone was active in me getting to F1 and it turned out well.
MH: Melbourne: first race; you're on pole; you would probably have won but for an oil leak.
JV: Yeah. A tube was put in the wrong place, got squished and the oil was coming out. Actually, it would have changed the championship if I'd won that race because, psychologically, it would have had an effect. And it would have made an eight-point difference; four more for me, four less for Damon Hill.
But it's good to have a year to learn and then a year to win. I've no issue there. That was the first time I had an engineer that was not like an older guy or an experienced guy. I think Jock Clear had less experience than me in racing.
MH: You built up a terrific rapport with Jock.
JV: Yes, because Jock's a sportsman. He was a rugby player, so the psychology was there. He understood it and that's why he was good with Michael Schumacher and that's why he's been good with Lewis Hamilton. It's more than being an engineer; it's not just the numbers.
I found the pace difficult in F1. In IndyCar, we were used to Safety Cars, so there was no point in building a 20-second lead. You built a three-second lead and you stayed there, managing your fuel, your tyres. That's why, at my first F1 win at the Nürburgring, Michael Schumacher finished on my gearbox. I was just managing my pace and I found I had to change that a little bit.
MH: When you won the championship, Damon had moved on and you had Heinz-Harald Frentzen as team-mate. How did they compare?
JV: I learned a lot from Damon, he was such a hard worker. He was really fast. The step I had to take from Atlantic to IndyCar was just as big when I went from IndyCar to F1. I used Damon to help me get there. It was good to have someone like that next to me and it got me ready for the following year, because when Frentzen was signed, he was signed to win the title.
MH: Would you really put it as simply as that?
JV: Yeah, that's how it was said. And that was the wrong thing for them to say because I just destroyed him. The psychological games started - a little bit like Nico Rosberg is doing with Lewis. If you have three teams that can win, you don't need to play that game against your team-mate. But if there's only you or your team-mate who can win - and early in the season it looked like that's the way it would be because we were a lot faster than the Ferraris - and then, somehow, they found a lot of speed, mostly coming out of corners, which was very strange.
But, before that happened, the battle started against him [Frentzen]. My team-mates were always caught sleeping at the start of each season because I would never go fast in winter testing. I was busy working on the setup, not a quali lap. Come first qualifying, I would be quick. Then it was just a question of pounding away. I don't know how many times Heinz-Harald thought he had pole and then, on the last lap, I would nick it away from him. After a while, that wears you down.
The 1997 season boiled down to a battle with Michael Schumacher © LAT |
MH: He was susceptible to that in any case.
JV: Yes he was. Patrick Head helped because he is a tough cookie; the more you stand up to him, the more he respects you. Either that or you get crushed. That's what happened to Frentzen. Patrick made him cry. Patrick at one point said: "Well you should just be more like Jacques and not listen to me."
MH: You moved on to BAR as they joined F1. Was the project overambitious?
JV: No, it wasn't. Look what we managed to build in a short time; not many people have done that. If you look at the first season [1999], the car was quick, but lethal. It was the Mecachrome engine and it was vibrating like crazy - and the car was marginal. So, the vibrations would destroy what little you had; break apart the hydraulics and so on.
The car was quick: I'd be in the top six but I never finished one race in the points. Ricardo Zonta ended up in the grandstand at Silverstone because something broke on the car. Every race I was worried I would get hurt because I was waiting for something to break. You can't go racing like that.
It was a great group of people but the car was too marginal. The mistake was promoting us as going to win straight away. I ended up believing it; you say: "Why not?" We started a great project then when Honda came in, we thought 'Bingo!'
MH: What went wrong?
JV: I don't know. I think this was because it wasn't the 1980s when Honda were the only company making a professional engine for Formula 1. And it wasn't helped by the Japanese mentality that just didn't allow them to tell their bosses something was wrong, so the people in Japan believed everything was OK.
They also attached a lot of significance to horsepower. So there was zero torque in order to get just a tiny bit more horsepower at the top; it was the opposite of Renault.
When we got two podiums, it looked as if we were progressing. After the third year, I spoke to Flavio Briatore about joining Renault. The two contracts were the same. There were no money issues one way or the other and I was 50/50.
It was a tough call because BAR were the team I had built and Honda begged me to stay. At the last minute, I agreed to stay and it looked like it was the right decision because, the following year, Renault were nowhere.
Hindsight is easy. At that point, I didn't know Craig Pollock was going to be pushed away from BAR so, suddenly, my protection was gone, with David Richards coming in. I also didn't know that Honda would turn their back on me in three months. Suddenly, I was the black sheep and I couldn't fight back.
The car was breaking down every race, so that was it. The team were saying they had got rid of me because of money and yet they were paying Jenson Button more when he came in. It was all politics. The sad thing is, the media fell for it. Once that happens, you can't fend for yourself.
MH: Would you say this was one of the most disappointing points in your career?
JV: I would. I had worked so hard for that team. For a couple of seasons, I was the driver with the most test miles. I was working my ass off. Even if we were 18th, I would take the risks; there wasn't one moment when I gave up. I never criticised the team and I have to say I was driving better than I had been in '97.
I could take the lack of results because I knew how hard I had been working. But the lack of comprehension outside the team about what was really going on was more difficult to take.
Return to the Indy 500 this year resulted in a 14th place finish © LAT |
MH: You did drive for Renault for three races at the end of 2004 before a couple of seasons with Sauber. How do those experiences stack up?
JV: I had signed for Sauber for 2005 but persuaded them that going with Renault for three races would be a good experience, particularly as they were running Michelin and I was able to help persuade Michelin go to Sauber [who were on Bridgestone] for 2005 while, at the same time, learning about the tyre.
It also allowed me to work with Fernando [Alonso], which was a very good experience. My engineer was Alan Permane and this, to me, was like working back in the day. In the space of three races, it was a new car; we changed everything. They gave me so much freedom and the fact that they believed what I was saying was a nice aspect.
The way that group of people worked was amazing. I found Fernando to be a fantastic team-mate; super helpful. Even the times when I was ahead were not an issue.
MH: If you got to know Fernando that well, you must have watched his move to McLaren with interest in 2007?
JV: At McLaren, he got a bit of what I got when Jenson was brought into BAR. It was like they said to Fernando: "Lewis is our future; you're just the world champion, so shut up." Basically, they were using Alonso to build up Lewis; that's what he didn't like. So, he decided to bring the team down - and he was right.
You don't need to push the new guy that early; he'll be right in three years. Just wait and let your world champion do what he has to do. I think that's where McLaren were wrong. Fernando did the only thing he could do.
MH: And Sauber? You did two seasons.
JV: I got there and was told: "Shut up and drive; we know what's best for the car. We don't want your input on the setup." That was due to Willy Rampf. The rest of the engineers were great and I always got on with Monisha Kaltenborn. I complained through the media about requests for changes not being met and, when they wrote it, Sauber were obliged to put on the dampers I was wanting - and the car was faster.
So, they got even more angry. From then, it got sour, just because of one or two people on the engineering side. But every time I go back now to the team, it's like family, which is great.
MH: I'm surprised you are as cheerful as you are.
JV: Hey, there's always tomorrow. I'm healthy; I've got four boys; I'm making money; I'm still racing when a lot of people aren't racing; I still have the passion. That's why I get frustrated because I love the sport, the racing, the competition. When I see some of the things that happen in F1 and the lack of common sense, it really gets to me. Maybe I'm too passionate.
Over the past few years I've been driving so many things, and that's made me a better driver; it's actually quite fun and exciting. Racing in this year's Indy 500 and getting back up to speed was weird. For the first 20 laps, I was thinking: "I'm going fast; I'm doing OK." And I was only doing 180. "Shit! How will I get to 200?"
It was physical; I couldn't breathe and everything was blurred. I came back one week later and I was up to speed, no problem. It's a matter of the brain assimilating everything; it's still there, somewhere. I would do a setup change and I remembered 19 years ago: the same line, the same feel... everything. We come up with this information and we really don't know where it's come from.
MH: You've certainly got a lot of experiences to fall back on, starting with your school days right here. You've got great recall; thank you for sharing.
JV: It's been fun. Thanks.
This interview appears in the November issue of F1 Racing, which is now on sale and features a 'showdown special' analysis of the 2014 title race.
