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The Rodriguez brothers of Mexico City epitomised precociousness.
Backed and encouraged by a wealthy, well-connected father, Pedro was racing motorbikes against men by the time he was 12. He switched to a Jaguar XK120 at 15.
Ricardo, the younger by two years, was a national champion on two wheels aged 14. The following year he was winning races in a Porsche 550, the sort that James Dean had been killed in.
Future McLaren Formula 1 team co-ordinator Jo Ramirez was a childhood friend: “They were obviously big [news], although motor racing was never as big as football in Mexico. I remember going to Riverside [in California] with Ricardo when he was 15. He wasn’t allowed to drive on the street yet he was racing.
“When the other drivers met him they laughed about him being a child - he looked even younger than he was - but he won and got a lot of respect from them. He was brilliant.”
Cool in shades and jackets, these good Catholic boys with a cause were a sensation when they arrived in Europe, thanks to their Latin flair and fearlessness of youth.
With a combined age of 40, they attacked the 1961 Le Mans 24 Hours as though it were a sprint. Ignoring pleas from Ferrari to kowtow to the works cars, they fell agonisingly short. (Ricardo had finished second there the year before in a Ferrari co-driven by Belgium’s Andre Pilette).
A winning team even in defeat - the brothers received a standing ovation from the grandstand opposite the pits - they were individuals, too. And their sibling rivalry was tipped in Ricardo’s favour: better looking, more charismatic, faster.
Ramirez: “I was very close with Ricardo, more than I ever was with Pedro. Ricardo and I more or less had the same character. He was extremely extroverted whereas Pedro was an introvert, didn’t have many friends and was very quiet. And then, when they started racing together, Ricardo was always much quicker. Pedro maybe felt he was in the shadow of his younger brother.
“He always tried harder to achieve the same speed as Ricardo. You could see it. After a test session he would be completely exhausted whereas with Ricardo you could never tell. Normally, if either of them was going to shunt it would be Pedro.”
Signed by Ferrari and thrown into a heady F1 title showdown at Monza, Ricardo qualified second, a mere tenth from pole, despite using a dated specification of engine.
Running comfortably with the slipstreaming lead pack during the race, his fuel pump failed after 13 laps. He was 19 and - already - had the world at his feet.
But he was dead at 20, killed in a privateer Lotus practising for the non-championship Mexican GP.
Ferrari had struggled in F1 in 1962, but Ricardo’s fourth place at Spa, after a long and exciting dice with reigning world champion and team leader Phil Hill, and sixth at the Nurburgring, where he outperformed his team-mates, confirmed his capabilities.
He also won Sicily’s epic Targa Florio road race alongside Belgians Olivier Gendebien and Willy Mairesse.
Ramirez had followed him to Europe: “Ricardo was a driver like the ones we see only every 10 or 15 years: Prost, Senna, Schumacher. Of course I am biased, I was very close to him, but I would put him in that elite. He achieved so much in his short years.
“It was a great shame for him and those lucky enough to be close to him and, of course, Mexico that he never fulfilled what we all knew would have happened.”
The sport had lost one of its great natural talents, a potential world champion. Pedro had lost something more fundamental and withdrew from the race and retreated further into his shell.
His urge to compete remained strong, however, and one year later he was racing a Lotus, a works version, in the Mexican GP, a round of the world championship.
Ramirez: “When Ricardo died, Pedro thought maybe he would stop. Then he realised, ‘No, actually, I love racing. It’s my life and I’ll carry on.’ Without the shadow of his brother he started getting better and better and better and became one of the best drivers of his day.”
He preferred to stay close to home, however, and concentrate on racing sports cars and GTs, to the benefit of his car-import business but detriment of a stuttering single-seater career. That changed in 1967.
Awarded a one-off with Cooper at the F1 season-opener in South Africa, he scored a surprise victory in an attritional race. This was the breakthrough that allowed him to mature and blossom in a way denied his feted, fated brother.
Pedro joined BRM in 1968 and finished second in Belgium, third in Holland and Canada and fourth in Mexico. His best drive, however, was the non-championship Race of Champions at Brands Hatch, scything through the pack after stalling at the start to finish second.
Unfathomably dropped for 1969, he returned in 1970. A Belgian GP win at the super-fast Spa, his favourite circuit was the highlight, but he might have won the United States GP that season, too, but for an unscheduled splash-and-dash.
Now based in Britain’s Home Counties, living with blonde girlfriend Glenda and cutting a quirky Anglicised dash in his deerstalker hat (bought on Bond Street) and stately Bentley, he was established in F1’s elite.
He was a darling of the crowds and a favourite with his mechanics, because the fluid precision that underpinned the flamboyance that made him easy on the eye was also easy on his cars.
His only rival as the world’s best wet-weather driver and endurance expert was Belgium’s Jacky Ickx.
Already having won major sports cars races at Daytona, Mosport in Canada, Reims in France - all in Ferraris - and the 1968 Le Mans 24 Hours in a Ford GT40 co-driven by Belgium’s Lucien Bianchi, his astounding drives - and friendly fire intra-team rivalry with fellow ex-biker Jo Siffert - in iconic Gulf-livered Porsche 917s created a legend.
Ramirez was working as a mechanic for that JWA team, albeit was assigned to its other car: “Pedro relaxed. Absolutely. By then he had overcome that era of having his brother being quicker.
“He became bit more amenable but always said that he never liked to get close to the other racing drivers because that way, in a wheel-to wheel battle, they would know less about how he was going to react. His closest friends were always from Mexico.”
He won the Daytona 24 Hours and the 1000km races at Brands Hatch, Monza and Watkins Glen in 1970.
His performance at Brands is reckoned by many to be the best in this category of racing. He finished five laps to the good despite being dragged into the pits for an extended dressing down from Clerk of the Course Nick Syrett about dangerous driving and ignoring black flags.
Having almost run over him as he waved a yellow flag to signal an accident, a fuming Pedro, who stared straight ahead throughout the lecture, almost crushed Syrett’s toes as he accelerated back into the spray and fray.
He won on four occasions in 1971, too: at Daytona and Monza again, and Spa and the Osterreichring.
The latter performance was almost good as his Brands Hatch victory. Running unabated on slicks during a rainstorm allowed him to recover from the electrical fault that cost him three laps and win by two.
Having driven flat chat for 580 miles, he clambered from a cramped, enclosed cockpit and removed his familiar crash helmet: there wasn’t a bead of sweat on him and his signature swept black hair was immaculate.
He was dead a fortnight later, killed driving a privateer Ferrari in a minor sports car race at Germany’s Norisring.
His religious upbringing reinforced by brother’s untimely demise, Pedro had taken a fatalistic view: when it was your time in this notoriously dangerous era, it was your time. His throwback attitude clashed with the concurrent safety campaign being orchestrated by Jackie Stewart.
Ramirez: “For sure, Ricardo was something to do with it. Pedro said, ‘Just give me a car that is good, one that won’t break, and then I don’t care where we race. If there are trees or rocks or whatever it is my duty to miss them.’”
That final race earned Pedro £1500. He said he needed the money. He didn’t. He needed to race - every weekend, if possible.
The week before he had set fastest time at a Silverstone test in preparation for the British GP. He was 31 and - finally - had the world at his feet.
In him we saw how good Ricardo would have been. That’s how good Pedro became.
“But I think Ricardo would have maintained his edge,” concludes Ramirez.