To say that the Berta F1 programme was over-ambitious would be an understatement, for the tiny team had designed and built not only its own chassis but also its own engine, which, perhaps not surprisingly, proved to be low on power, heavy, and unreliable. Nonetheless, the team entered the next F1 grand prix, Brazil, Oreste Berta asking Wilson Fittipaldi for the loan of a spare Cosworth V8 to bolt into García-Veiga’s car in place of the substandard Berta V8. Unsurprisingly, given Copersucar-Fittipaldi’s disastrous F1 debut in Argentina, that request was refused, and that was the end of the Berta F1 team.
Anyway, let’s pick up the story on race day, in Argentina, in 1975. There was drama right from the start, since the crown-wheel-and-pinion at the back of Jarier’s Shadow failed on the warm-up lap, so the pre-race favourite never even made the grid. When the flag dropped, the lead was grabbed by Reutemann, taking advantage of not only the empty space ahead of him where Jarier’s Shadow should have been but also his certainty that, as the local hero, he was unlikely to be penalised for jumping the start. As events turned out he was right, for his professional foul duly went unpunished, and behind him Pace in the other Brabham, followed by Lauda’s Ferrari, Hunt’s Hesketh, and Fittipaldi’s McLaren, set off in angry pursuit.
They circulated like that for the first seven laps, until Hunt overtook Lauda on lap eight. Then, on lap 14, Pace spun at the fast left flick, Tobogàn, rejoining in sixth place. On lap 23 Fittipaldi passed Lauda, and now the three leaders pulled away together — Reutemann’s white Brabham and Hunt’s white Hesketh leading Fittipaldi’s red and white McLaren, the trio running nose to tail and in line astern — and, with 30 laps to go and nothing so pesky as a pitstop to interrupt their sprint to the end, it was clear that the huge crowd of F1-mad Argentines, who were cheering their beloved Lole to the echo, could look forward to the thick end of an hour of nail-biting racing to continue to enjoy.
They were to be disappointed, however, for Reutemann’s Cosworth soon began to lose a few revs, and his front Goodyears started to go off, giving him understeer, which he had always hated and indeed would always detest throughout the rest of his F1 career. Neither affliction might have been crippling on its own, but the combination meant that, try as he might, finally he could not keep Hunt behind him, and, when the three cars came around at the end of lap 26, the Hesketh was in the lead. Frustrated and upset, perhaps Reutemann did not then fight Fittipaldi on the following tour as hard as he could have done, for Emerson slipped past him on lap 27, and after that Carlos dropped back a bit, although he maintained a now-lonely third place, comfortably ahead of Lauda in fourth.
So now the 1975 Argentine Grand Prix was a two-horse race. Hunt led, but Fittipaldi was right behind him. For lap after lap, there was never more than a few car lengths between them, for they ran together, trading fastest laps as they went, manhandling their cars spectacularly through the superfast flat-in-top-gear Curvón de Salotto, controlling them on the ragged edge of their deteriorating Goodyears’ adhesion only by sawing at the wheel, each man allowing his right foot nary a flinch.
As Hunt began to lap the backmarkers, some of them went off-line too obediently for his liking, churning up trackside dust and even stones at the flying Hesketh behind, one of them hitting and indeed holing its windscreen but fortunately not smiting its driver in the head. Nonetheless, after the race James admitted that, wary of the debris off-line, a known hazard of the tricky-in-so-many-ways Buenos Aires racetrack, he had been grateful that his team had provided him with an extra-thick helmet visor.
Hunt’s lead looked solid, if never secure, for Fittipaldi was always there, invariably just behind. Nonetheless, James was driving beautifully, never making the kind of error that would allow Emerson to have a proper go at passing him. Could Hunt win his, and Hesketh’s, first ever world championship-status F1 grand prix? Perhaps he could, for on lap 34 he set the fastest lap of the race, 1min 50.91sec, thereby beginning lap 35 with a lead visibly larger than any he had hitherto enjoyed, with just 18 of the 53 laps to go.
Maybe the newly hard-won daylight behind him unsettled him — or broke his rhythm — for, at the end of that very lap, the 35th, he ran wide at the exit of the last corner, the Curva de Parga hairpin, and Fittipaldi drew level with him on the long drag down the start-finish straight. They ran together into S del Siervo, but Emerson had the inside line, and he duly emerged onto the 40-second flat-out loop ahead. Two laps later James repeated his fastest lap, another banzai effort that again stopped the clocks at exactly 1min 50.91sec, but ahead Emmo had everything in hand, his McLaren now “running fantastic” as he described it later, and he would not be denied.
On the podium three of the best and most charismatic drivers of their era — Fittipaldi, Hunt, and Reutemann — stood alongside one another. Emerson, the 1974 F1 world champion, had begun his title defence perfectly – and fittingly, too, for the race had been the McLaren team’s 100th world championship-status F1 grand prix. Hunt was bitterly disappointed, for he felt that he had let a golden opportunity slip through his fingers, because, although he had won the non-championship F1 International Trophy at Silverstone in 1974, he had never yet felt the joy of scoring a world championship-status F1 grand prix victory. The patriotic Reutemann was morose, too, eager as he had been to deliver a home-grown triumph to his adoring fans. But each of them would go on to win races in F1 that year: Fittipaldi, his second of the season, at Silverstone; Hunt at Zandvoort; and Reutemann at Nürburgring. By September, however, Lauda would be F1 world champion.