Germany has produced a fair few great racing drivers over the years. The current world champion, Sebastian Vettel, can certainly lay a claim, as can – of course – Michael Schumacher. Indeed, there are many who will tell you that Michael is the ‘best ever’; that’s entirely subjective, and without wanting to raise an argument, let’s just say I accept he’s the most successful. Go even further back in history, before the Second World War, and we come across great names such as Rudolf Caracciola, Hans Stuck, and Hermann Lang, among a plethora of others. Germany, back then, was a behemoth in terms of Grand Prix racing with the great Mercedes Benz and Auto Union teams sweeping all before them. One wonders what might have been had war not intervened.

But I digress, for it is not they I wish to talk about; it is a man who many believe – myself included – would have claimed the first F1 championship for Germany had he lived beyond the age of 27. For younger readers the name Stefan Bellof may mean nothing, and that needs to be redressed. Bellof was an enigma, a driver who simply glowed with charisma, who was mighty on the track whether in F1 or the World Sportscar Championship. You won’t find his name in any F1 record books for he took part in a mere 20 F1 races. It’s a sad sign of the inflated view of F1’s importance back then that the fact he won the WSC, for Porsche, in 1984 is long forgotten.

What was it about this young man that so impressed us all? We will come back to his Porsche exploits a little later, but for now, a bit about the man. Bellof began his career in Karting in Germany, as would his countryman Schumacher a couple of decades later. He soon moved into Formula Ford, and then the German Formula Three Championship. He led the standings going into the final round, but was beaten by both Frank Jelinski and Franz Konrad. Regarded as a little wild in those early days, he was soon on the radar of the leading Formula Two teams.

Now, back in the early 1980’s F2 was a category that was heading into dire waters. It was becoming increasingly expensive as designers exploited new aerodynamic avenues, mimicking F1 as they did. Stefan tested for Maurer Motorsport in their F2 car at the end of 1981; he impressed works driver Eje Elgh so much that he recommended to team boss Willy Maurer – think of him as an erstwhile Peter Sauber type figure – as his partner for the next season.

This is where I first witnessed the young man’s skills first hand. I was at Silverstone for the first round of the F2 championship in 1982; it was wet, very wet, and it was miserable. Bellof qualified ninth, not where he wanted to be, but simply out-drove the rest of the field. It was a stunning performance, and he won by a distance. He followed that up with another victory at Hockenheim next timeout. The Maurer was not the best car in the field, and it was soon usurped by the dominant Ralts. For 1983 Bellof continued in F2 for Maurer, with little success, but his talent had already led to him being hired by Porsche to race the 956 in the World Sportscar Championship.

Let’s digress a little here and remind ourselves that this is not 2012 we are talking about; racing drivers – even the very best in F1 – did not yet earn the mega-salaries we see today. They had to driver whatever they could to earn a living. The WSC was a thriving series back then, and one often thrilling to watch. The dominant Porsches were driven by some of endurance racing’s greatest names: Derek Bell and Jacky Ickx must surely rank as the very best of the lot. Into the team came Bellof, a little cocky, young, and very, very fast.

Bellof and Bell won first time out, at Silverstone – a happy hunting ground for Stefan – after the youngster had set pole position. He made history at the next race, at the Nurburgring, with a pole lap that still stands as the fastest ever around the fearsome Nordschleife. It was five seconds faster than anyone else could manage.

Stefan would win more races that year but would finish fourth in the championship; the next year – 1984 – he dominated it, winning six out of 11 rounds, and taking the world title. By now he was a name to be reckoned with, and he had joined Tyrrell in Formula One, the late, great Uncle Ken having taken something of a shine to the young man.

Indeed, such was the close relationship with Bellof that Norma Tyrrell, ken’s wife and team stalwart, regarded him as something of a son. Ken thought Bellof an exceptional talent; today we would not see a driver racing full time in both F1 and the WSC, but for Bellof – and a few others – it was only natural.

The 1984 season would see Tyrrell engaged in a controversial spat with the governing body that would eventually see the team disqualified from the championship. They were accused of cheating by removing specially added ballast for the race, and adding it at the end to bring the car back up to weight. The team were still persevering with the venerable but ageing Cosworth DFV, a far less powerful engine than the various turbocharged motors run by the other teams. Tyrrell protested his innocence, and claimed his team stood in the way of rule changes that needed unanimous approval – rule changes that he, and only he, was going to veto. It all seemed very convenient, and it was typical of the political shenanigans in F1 at that time.

For the record, Bellof scored a number of points and was even on the podium in the famous Monaco GP of that year. The race around the streets was a wash-out, with Alain Prost in the Renault out ahead and signalling frantically for the even to be stopped. What excited the crowds, however, was what was going on behind him. Catching Prost at an alarming rate was a young man by the name of Ayrton Senna, driving for Toleman. Catching Senna was Bellof, the youngster belying his image as a wild man by deftly controlling the nimble Tyrrell as he skated around the soaked circuit. It was a stunning performance by both, and they duly took second and third when the race was stopped.

1985 saw Stefan continue in the Tyrrell team; he had been courted by others but was a loyal man, and had committed to Ken’s little outfit for another year. There were other reasons for this: would a major team such as McLaren or Ferrari have allowed their new charge to race for Porsche elsewhere? Probably not, but Bellof loved his sports cars, and Ken allowed him to continue.

All too often in stories such as this one – tragedies as they ultimately are – there are those who will accuse the writer of seeing things through rose tinted glasses. As with Gilles Villeneuve – the driver whom I believe Stefan Bellof most resembled in both his driving style and his character – they will tell me that I am exaggerating their talent, that they weren’t that good, that death has elevated them somehow to the status I regard them with. I was there; I watched both race, and I consider myself privileged to have done so. I have seen many great drivers before – and since – and some stand out, but I cannot get away from the fact that Stefan Bellof didn’t get the chance to shine in a car worthy of his exceptional talent.

Spa Francorchamps, even in truncated form, is a daunting place; not quite as much as the Nordschleife, which you will remember Bellof had mastered in no uncertain terms in 1984, but still a very fast, very demanding circuit. It was back then, on the 1st of September, 1985, and it still is now. Stefan qualified third – he was partner to local boy Thierry Boutsen in a Brun-Porsche – and was racing the great Jacky Ickx. The two knew each other well, trusted each other, and neither would give an inch.

At the spectacular Eau Rouge – a place where only the bravest of the brave would attempt to pass – the two cars were side by side. They touched, and the result as a terrifying accident that saw Bellof’s Porsche destroy the barriers and burst into flames. Ickx was out of his damaged car and struggling to help the marshals get Stefan out of the wreck; it took ten minutes to get him out. He was pronounced dead on arrival at the circuit’s medical centre.

Was he too rash? Was it a reckless move that could have been avoided? Of course it could have been avoided, but nobody who watched Bellof – or the vastly experienced Ickx – race would ever have suggested they should have backed off. They were racing; that’s what racing drivers do.

I heard the news on the car radio later that day; I was instantly transported back to that awful moment in May, 1982, when we heard that Gilles had died. To me, and to many others, Stefan and Gilles were two of a kind; they weren’t interested in numbers, in racking up points, they were interested in winning, in getting there faster than everyone else. Stefan Bellof’s racing career was too short lived; he was due to meet Enzo Ferrari with a view to joining the Maranello outfit for 1986. While the red cars were not up to much that year it would have been a chance to show his talents on the world stage in some fashion.

Is Stefan Bellof F1’s great lost talent? I don’t think there can be just one, for we have lost too many. What he was, for me, was a racing driver the likes of which they don’t make anymore. It was Bellof’s death that led to F1 teams restricting their contracted driver’s extra-curricular antics; it was a rare thing for an F1 driver to be allowed to get in another form of racing car from then on.

Remembering Stefan Bellof is to remember a pleasant, polite and exceedingly talented young man in a sport that was then unfettered by the restrictions of sponsors clauses and watertight contracts; a man who simply loved to get in a car – any car – and race; and a man who had the talent to have give us so much more.

Article by Steve Turnbull