To understand what happened at Zolder, it is necessary to understand what had happened two weeks earlier at Imola. Villeneuve believed — and much of the paddock agreed — that Pironi, his Ferrari teammate, had broken a team agreement to hold position and stolen the San Marino Grand Prix from him in its final laps. Villeneuve was incandescent. He stopped speaking to Pironi entirely, told journalists in blunt terms that he considered the win effectively stolen, and arrived at Zolder still carrying that fury into final qualifying on Saturday afternoon.
With seven minutes left in the session, Villeneuve was on a flying lap, still searching for time that would put him ahead of Pironi on the grid, when he came up behind Jochen Mass's March, backing off through a slow section of the circuit. Villeneuve, committed to his line and closing at enormous speed, moved to pass on a part of the track where Mass — trying to get out of the way — happened to move in the same direction at the same moment. The cars touched. Villeneuve's Ferrari was launched into a violent series of somersaults, disintegrating as it went, before coming to rest, largely destroyed, at the trackside catch fencing. Villeneuve, still strapped into the remains of his seat, had been thrown clear of the chassis.
He was airlifted to hospital in Leuven with severe head and neck injuries. He was pronounced dead that evening. He was thirty-two years old.
The grand prix went ahead the following day, as convention still dictated. John Watson won it for McLaren, a genuinely excellent result — starting seventeenth on the grid and carving through the field to victory — that received barely a fraction of the attention it would have on any other weekend. Ferrari withdrew Pironi's teammate entry from the remainder of the meeting out of respect. The paddock that Sunday was, by every account, a subdued and grieving place, still processing the loss of a driver many considered the most spectacular, if not the most consistently successful, of his generation.