Here I Go Again

Once again, it's that time of year that many of us struggle with. Mere hours after the checkers fall for the newest driver to add their name and likeness to the century-old legend, Indy 500 Seasonal Affective Disorder engulfs those for whom "364 days to the Indy 500" is quite possibly the saddest sporting phrase uttered at any point during the year. Instead of wallowing, I'll somewhat wistfully recap my view of the 101st Indy 500.

Tres Amigos de la 500 - 2017

Aside from my raceday attire, for which my son grows increasingly unimpressed, and those of my two Indy 500 compatriots (who you may have seen in the IndyStar, et. al.), I've learned to simply take in the events we choose to attend as they're presented.

Admittedly, the ominous daily weather forecast required that we have at least some idea of contingencies and ingress/egress plans. It was one of the worst Indy 500 weekends for weather forecasts I've seen in a very long time. Fortune allowed us some really terrific weather for being at the track and we were able to catch all the events and nearly all of the people we wanted. 

This year was my 30th race.

I didn't have any specific plans to celebrate the milestone, other than my tried and true mantra of simply "being present" without trying to manufacture genuinely good times. 

In reflecting on 30 races I've attended, 1979-'80, '88-'17 (except for 1997 and 1998 when I protest-voted with my wallet to not attend because of my view that the sport was fractured and severely diminished), I find myself currently relatively healed from much of the heartbreak and tragedy during the last 20 years. I grow more weary of that process each time I've done it but, after the thrilling race that was the 2017 edition, here I go again, starting to fall in love with modern Indycar racing and the 500 in a new way. 

Firstly, I am extremely thankful and aware that the Howard-Dixon crash in the South Chute was perilously close to a result that would have many again calling into question a great many things about the sport. I've made those thoughts and concerns evident on more that one occasion both here and via Twitter over the last six years, so I won't take up that banner again, except to only state that we should all be well-aware that we were lucky in the extreme to have the result we did. 

During our slow progress through traffic back to our hotel, I kept thinking about this Indy 500, and the word that kept popping up in my head was "prototypical". 

In more current terms of the racing anyway, the myriad of storylines and strategies coming into raceday, the speed, pageantry, excitement, and spectacle of it all seemed more natural and just as amazing as most any previous, culminating in 10 of the most riveting closing laps of drama I've seen in 30 races. Takuma Sato's redemption from the slightest of miscalculations 5 years earlier was a classic heroic story which will only grow with time. 

It is perhaps a blessing and a curse that each race of this legendary event gets compared and contrasted to the many before it every year, but I revel in the fact that the old Brickyard seems to always produce something amazing and unpredictable along the way. 

The 101st running was no different in that manner. 

"Here I Go Again" is an oft-used phrase in music over several generations and genres to describe that degree of yearning and even helplessness one feels when experiencing a similar love or situation again that, for whatever reason, once ceased to be. So whether it be Ricky Nelson, or Whitesnake, or Salt N Pepa, or The Hollies, or Country Joe and the Fish, or Dolly Parton, or Bobby Wright, the theme of loss and re-connection with someone or thing once precious feels most apt for my most recent experience with The Greatest Spectacle in Racing.

I guess I have no choice now but to do my best to wait patiently for the coming 51 weeks to pass until the next Indianapolis 500.

News Update and The Greatest 33 Revisited - 2017

Firstly, I'll address the post-Pole Day Monday news which is in various parts disturbing, sad, and hopeful. Following those notable items, I'll forward the lesser, pithy bits I had already planned for this space today.

From the "Sad is the news from Italy" department, Kentucky native son and racer at IMS during the Moto GP days, succumbed to his injuries received after automobile collided with him in Italy as he was physically training on a bicycle. He was noted by racers of all types as a great racer and equally good person. My only witness to his skills was a demonstration lap at the Indy 500 in 2008 and I will never forget the sensation of seeing and hearing what moved and sounded much like an Indycar, but terrified to see it was only a diminutive man on a motorcycle absolutely flying by us in a colorful flash on the main straight. I'd never seen anything so fast and so exposed in my life. Here's a video of that demonstration shot by a person nearly directly across from our seats. Thoughts are with his family and friends at this sad time. 

In a hopeful bit of news, a reported successful surgery to repair multiple fractures of Seb Bourdais' pelvis and a hip bone sustained in one of the most violent collisions with the Turn 2 wall ever seen at IMS, see the driver already beginning the long healing process which will keep him out of the rest of the Indycar and Sports Car seasons this year. Blessings to Seb, his family, and friends for the prognosis.

And finally from the "I guess we'll say they're fortunate but this is really disturbing" department, yesterday's 101st Indy 500 Pole Winner Scott Dixon, his wife Emma Dixon, and pal Dario Franchitti were the victims of an armed robbery while attempting to secure some delicious trappings from the West 16th Street Taco Bell Sunday evening. Thankfully, they weren't physically harmed and the suspected culprits are in custody.

And now, the post, that post was meant to be today...

(drum roll, regal trumpet fanfare)

The Greatest 33, Revisited - 2017 Pre-race Edition!

If you recall, back in 2011 IMS produced a Greatest 33 feature on their website , allowing fans to review over 100 drivers of the Indy 500 and create their very own Greatest 33. Eager to create my own, I spend many an hour developing a format and formulae for scoring and ranking drivers. Even made a blogpost or two or three about it for which you can still read today. I enjoy updating this list after qualifying and after the race each year to see how it changes.

One thing that is abundantly clear to me, and as I've noted before, is how we're in a second golden age of Indycar driving talent. Not quite the immense shadow cast of the original Golden Generation of Indycar racing, but still, a very stout and talented bunch whose depth of skills encompass a variety not matched by any other driving series on the planet.  They are also those whose time before us in a car sadly grows shorter all the time.

Listed here is my spreadsheet which processes for me, my vision (a blend of longevity, skill, and consistent performance) of what my Greatest at Indy requires. Of course wins count heavily and their value is of greatest importance, however I reserve the last row (11) of my Greatest 33 for the three best drivers to never have won, at the expense of some 1-time winners but those lacking other major accomplishments in comparison.

Following the results of yesterday's Pole Day qualifying, Here are the current rankings: 

Currently, 7 Indy 500 winners are actively in play for the 101st Indy 500, and 9 active drivers rank in the Top 80 here. Most notably perhaps are the greats of this era who have steadily risen in this ranking and have certainly made their mark on the Speedway in the last 20 years. Helio, Dario, Iceman, TK, and Montoya, Solidly in the Top 25 all-time for me and all of which spent (except the 1999 race of Montoya) their Indy 500 careers racing against each other. Should Hunter-Reay add a second 500 to his legacy, he would join the other 5 in the Top 25 at Indy. That's a pretty strong representation of this era through the lens of statistics at Indy.

Not only are those greats closer to the end of their careers than the beginning, but there is an excellent crop of young talent ready to make their permanent mark as well.

Largely graduates from the assorted ladder series both domestic and foreign, the young guns enrich the overall talent, making the depth of fields quite impressive.
Hunter-Reay, Hinchcliffe, Newgarden, Hildebrand, Kimball, Munoz, Carpenter, Daly, and Marco Andretti, all came up through the modern ladder and their notable longevity is also a testament to the good work being done in developing talent for Indycar. Often drivers who arrive from another major series are looked at as outsiders, but I find they truly add nothing but spice to the simmering recipe of American Open-Wheel Racing and I'm grateful for their added flavor. Bourdais, Sato, Rossi, and now Alonso are excellent drivers and only add to the depth of greatness that we see today.

So while you sit back and take in the 101st Indy 500 this coming Sunday, don't forget that no matter the outcome, no matter who becomes the latest to add their likeness to the Borg-Warner, be they young or old, you're witnessing true racing titans of our era, comparable in many ways to the Golden Era of the 1960s and 70s. 

Appreciate it, because it sure doesn't come around very often.

The Second Race I Attended

If you're currently an Indycar fan or just a fan of the Indy 500, a vast majority of us would recall with great reverence, that first race we attended and became hooked on the entire sensory experience.

How many of us recall the second race in a similar manner, however?

My second race came in 1980, one year after my first. 1979, while a fantastic experience and cementing a lifelong love of the speedway (and also strengthening my bond with my father), left me wanting in the racing department because my favorite driver (Al Unser) in what was the best car on that day (the new ground-effect Chaparral), dominated only to drop out with a minor part failure (transmission seal).

The following year I was even further disappointed to learn that Johnny Rutherford would be piloting that formidable and glorious yellow machine for 1980. Al had moved to a new team with a rather squarish, white (Longhorn) car spectacularly unadorned with sponsors and terrifically average on the speed charts all month. This was not a good sign for "my man Al", I thought.

It was the dawn of a new decade. The newly-inaugurated president of the United States, Ronald Reagan, seemed to symbolize the promise of unity and common good needed for much of a country that was hurting from the recession years of 1978-1980. In a reflection of the times (which I continue to note to this day), the uncertainty people felt in the economy was also felt in the racing community. 

Much uncertainty existed for the USAC, fledgling upstart series CART, the cobbled-together CRL (Championship Racing League), and IMS. Tony Hulman had been gone less than three years and the power vacuum was being filled by multiple, divergent sources. 

Teams raced on though. Some preferring the traditional USAC trail which was in decline with cancelled events later in the year, and some teams joining CART and attempting to grow their own series. This was the original "split" that fewer discuss when looking at the history of open-wheel racing in the US. Despite the uncertainty, the Indianapolis 500 Mile Sweepstakes was an unquestioned titan and, for the time being, remained steadfastly on the schedule of both sanctions. 

Race Day 1980 was quite beautiful, hot, and sunny making that Pennzoil Chaparral gleam even more brightly than the previous year. I knew better who this no-name Mears guy was who'd won the race in just his second try the year before. The cast of legends were all there and fairly competitive with a myriad of chassis and engines as the dawning of ground effects seemed to inject some optimism into experimenting.  

The new decade seemed to give hope that the future in general was brighter. Around 29 eligible drivers and over 40 cars missed the field for the 1980 race which seems incredible to imagine in this age.

The domination that we were expecting of the "Yellow Submarine" in 1979 bore fruit in 1980 as Rutherford had a nearly flawless day at the lead of the race for 118 of 200 laps. Tom Sneva, who wrecked his 14th-quickest and already qualified primary Phoenix chassis in practice after qualifying, used a backup McLaren to drive from 33rd to 2nd, even leading the race twice for a total of 16 laps.

It was a day that wasn't particularly notable for the racing, aside from Sneva's excellent run from the back of the pack to 2nd and Rutherford gaining his third 500 crown.

While we waited to leave the infield parking location, my two friends and I left the three fathers back in the vehicle to go stretch our legs (and alleviate some of the boredom of sitting in a hot car going nowhere). Wandering about provided an education of things heretofore unforeseen by these eyes.

This would be the year that I (quite innocently) had wandered too close to the infamous Snake Pit of yore where my first-person accounts of the adult female anatomy would be made much more complete than ever before. And displayed in incredible fashion. Live and in color, the details of which aren't exactly suitable for public discussion. Perhaps someday, if we meet and you're truly interested, I'll provide the event's details.

My 12-year-old self could scarcely believe what we were seeing and I am still quite incredulous to this day. I'm quite certain that if our fathers knew what we were witnessing, they'd have preferred to keep us in the vehicle.

Also, of particular note was my first live-action brawl between adults. Only in recent years did I see a picture of this incident captured by the Indianapolis Star and posted in their annual flashbacks.  Part of me wants to discount some details of the event I saw as boyhood embellishment, but I DO have certain elements reconciled in my brain as correct based on this photo, so while sparing some of the lengthy details, I can say that I witnessed this moment of Snake Pit lore from a range of approximately 30' which seemed far too close once all hell broke loose:

Again, perhaps someday I may regale you in person with my memories of this alcohol-fueled contretemps but safe to say, my second Indy 500 was nearly as memorable as the first, just for vastly different, non-racing-related reasons.

The Ugliest Car to Qualify at Indy

One of the closest and most exciting finishes in Indy history came in 2006 when Sam Hornish, Jr. passed Marco coming down the front straight within 200 yards of the line on the final lap. Never in the history of the race had the lead changed so closely to the line. My seats were located on the front straight that day just beyond the start/finish line and the noise from the crowd was deafening as it had been only a few times before.

It was an amazing end to a race month that was filled with ugly weather and one of the ugliest cars to ever qualify at Indy.

The two Rookie Orientation days of the month went smoothly, but 7 out of the following 11 available days, including qualifying, were either shortened or cancelled completely by rain. Qualifying was compressed from the '11/11/11/bumps' four-day format to two days. Unfortunately for some teams, there was precious little time to get marginal cars up to speed. PDM Racing was just such a team. 

A smaller-budget team already battling money, time, and the elements just to have an opportunity to make the show. Their rookie driver Thiago Medeiros, the 2004 Infiniti Pro Series Champion, worked well through his Rookie Orientation Procedure in this cobbled together mess of a G-Force chassis on May 8th: 

(c) 2006, Jim Haines, Motorsport.com

The PDM effort was dealt a serious blow when Medeiros crashed and severely damaged (although judging by aesthetics, that may be a relative term) their lone chassis late in the limited practice of Thursday, May 18.

Just two days remained if PDM was going to be able to even attempt to make the race. One final day of practice on Friday and Saturday's Pole Day qualifying later, 32 cars were proven to make the grid, leaving the team of Marty Roth Racing and PDM the only two fighting for that final spot.

The team spent those two days scrambling to find money and parts and time to assemble their one chassis to have their lone, Bump Day shot at making the race. And what an ugly chassis it was. With some unpainted or scavenged, mis-matched parts, a few sponsor stickers, and lots of elbow grease, the PDM team worked for two straight days and nights to get the already abysmal appearing "Frankenchassis" of a Panoz to the limited practice available prior to the final day of qualifying on Sunday, May, 21st.

Due to lack of qualifying attempts, most of Bump Day remained open for practice as teams prepped their Race Day settings. Drama arrived late in the afternoon in the form of A. J. Foyt Racing who surprisingly pulled a third, prepared chassis from their stable and employed the experienced Ryan Briscoe to possibly qualify the number 48.

Adding pressure to what had already been a highly taxing 48 hours for PDM racing, they returned from the garages with less than 60 minutes remaining, following some final changes, a new sponsor sticker, aero parts from what appeared to be no less than 6 different origins, and presented their car for qualifying attempt number one at 5:03pm. 

(c) 2006, Dan Vielhaber, Indymotorspeedway.com

(c) 2006, Gavin Lawrence

It is fairly certain that to all who followed this story, breathing was done only as minimally as possible.  All of PDM Racing's hopes and aspirations for the 2006 Indy 500 were riding on the four laps that Medeiros was about to take.

Thiago managed to qualify the car on his first attempt, nearly bouncing the 32nd car to 33rd, but slowing enough on the final lap to be set "on the bubble" for the remainder of the day. As the clock ticked and Marty Roth presented a car for qualifying, his hopes were dashed in warm-ups when losing control of the car and colliding with the Turn One wall.

Perhaps mercifully, Foyt withdrew their third car from the qualifying line, and as the gun sounded at 6:00pm, ending qualifying for 2006, underdog PDM Racing and Thiago Medeiros must have felt nearly as jubilant making the field for the 2006 Indy 500 as winning it.

PDM's raceday version of the car was a sight for sore eyes and a marked improvement over what was until then, perhaps the ugliest car to ever contend during the month of May.

(c) 2006, Earl Ma, Motorsport.com

  

How Tennis Confirmed That I Could Never Drive an Indycar

I play sports as a way to get some exercise, but more as a way to challenge myself and assess my skills. I love to compete - fairly, cleanly, honestly. I play many sports for the competitive aspects or for the enjoyment of learning a sport new to me, but one sport I play simply for the fun of it is tennis. 

Currently my Monday nights are filled with a group of mixed doubles players that originated over 20 years ago. Only one of the original couples from that bunch still plays. They went from being the youngest couple at inception of this group to being the most senior couple currently playing. I've been playing with this bunch for about 9 years and am now in the upper half of ages now.

I find myself most excited about chasing down impossible 'gets' and returning them, to the dismay of my most-often younger opponents. It's a part of my DNA apparently, or perhaps I was a Golden Retriever in a previous life and chasing tennis balls is a purely joyful exercise.

Last night was no exception. As my partner and I attacked the net, I anticipated their lob over her and began to track back behind her. Their crisply-struck baby-lob just cleared my partner's racquet, dropped gently in the back of our court, and was headed away from me. I gave chase and managed at full-tilt to just flick a shot back over my shoulder feeling like it was just solid enough to return to the opponent's side of the court.

Now is where being the elder and trying a bit too hard became a liability.

My momentum from the all-out sprint, carried me well-beyond the back of the court, and in trying to extend myself fully to get a racquet to the ball, and losing balance, stumbled slightly which did not allow me to slow myself properly before hitting the chainlink fence behind the court. I still have a picture in my head of what I saw right before impact. 

There was a millisecond of silence after the ball left the strings and... >BANG<

I managed to collide with the fence right at a vertical post. With my face. My arms all splayed about trying to complete the list of things, perhaps in the wrong order (flicking the racquet into position for a shot, keeping my balance, protecting my face from the impending impact, etc.). Nevertheless, I quickly recovered to see that the ball was still in play, on the opposite side of the court, being easily volleyed away and we lost the point. 

It hurt.

I still have cuts and abrasions on my forehead and nose... and knee... and elbow... and cheek from the things I saw right before impact. The greatest pain found however, was my bruised ego.

Illuminated for me in an instant was a much more important point that wasn't tallied in this contest - sometimes trying too hard is not in fact beneficial to the overall result.

It reminded me that what happens in an Indycar isn't terribly dissimilar, only on a much more severe magnitude.  When I realized that it is, in fact, within my nature to chase things from a nearly-impossible position. I knew that this is a trait which is the precise opposite of what is required to drive an Indycar successfully. 

No driver I've ever seen in Indycar has said that they got more out of the car that it gave them. Drivers are instructed quickly very bad things happen when you try that.

Not that I could ever, but I think as Indycar fans, we all harbor the slightest illusion or fantasy of driving and Indycar at race speeds around IMS. Guess what? If you're reading this, it's likely in the extreme that you can't. In fact, pretty close to none of us can do it. Maybe a late-comer to feeling like I have enough evidence to believe this, but far too many people (an many newcomers to Indycar who comment on the live practice feeds) don't understand the difficulty of racing an Indycar at IMS around such a 'boring' oval.

I've even been fortunate enough to have done the two-seater ride and the single-seater ride at IMS. According to what I was told, my gear-limited top speed driving myself was approximately 149 mph. On the straights it was thrilling.  In the corners it was really quite overwhelming to the senses. And this was only approximately at 60% of what the current drivers experience, NOWHERE near the limits of adhesion that they deal with every corner of every high-speed lap. It was a bit of a eye-opener for me, realizing that there is something I could never physically or mentally do.

Not without smashing into a fence at some point anyway.

So, while watching these drivers on TV, try to realize that what appears quite like a simple Sunday drive around a simple four-turn course, isn't, and is something you most likely will never be able to. Appreciate the subtleties of high-speed oval racing.

Even if you can't see them, understand they're there and that because they make it look easy, should indicate just how great these drivers are.

Wake Up The Echoes

The line "wake up the echoes", as almost everyone from the northern part of Indiana would recall, is a lyric from the Notre Dame Victory March. The line is set within a stanza implores one to recall and revive the glories past;

Cheer, cheer for old Notre Dame, 

Wake up the echoes cheering her name, 

Send a volley cheer on high, 

Shake down the thunder from the sky.

Growing up where I did, Notre Dame football and the Indianapolis 500 once held an unparalleled significance in both long-standing tradition and celebration on an annual basis. I still see similarities with this sentiment and the opening day at IMS.

Opening day of 500 practice reminds us of a few things that acknowledge time and place; another year has ticked by, we have indeed survived another winter (which for Northern Indiana tends to be a bleak and oppressive 4 months), the optimism of spring is well and truly beset around us, the greening of the landscape signals the onset of more comfortable climes, and the quickening of pace to all things Indiana, especially the cars at Indy. My recent visit to the Indycar Grand Prix followed by this opening day also has awoken my restful desire to write here again. 

After being at IMS this past weekend, I appreciate how I find something special each visit there. Whether recalling specific visits or events past, or how the physical grounds and surroundings change over the years, or a mixture of people, time, and place, each visit seems unique and never repetitive. This past weekend I was not only engrossed with the racing, but also noticing what's new around the track and in the museum.

Of special note to me was the A.J. Foyt exhibit in the museum and the demolished Lola tub on display that had been saved from his horrific crash at Road America in 1990. It takes very little imagination to see what damage was done to his body in that crash.

While presented as a testament to his incredible toughness and desire to return to racing following that crash, I am also reminded of how incredibly dangerous this endeavor is, despite the ongoing improvements to safety. Maybe it's my steadily advancing age, or the fact that I'll be attending my 30th Indy 500 this year, or that I've been following the sport for around 40 of my 49 years, but the fragility of life in the profession of Indycar racing seems all the more apparent now. In light of the length of my Speedway history, Hinchcliffe's crash still seems like yesterday to me.

There is that dark and rarely officially discussed thread of mayhem and death woven into the history of the Speedway and while there is no need to glorify it, I also feel it quite important and well overdue to more suitably, publicly, and solemnly honor, via a permanent museum place or exterior monument, all those (fans included) who have given their lives from the events within the confines of the Speedway.

There really needs to be no shame in doing so, I feel. The drivers all eagerly acknowledge this risk in trade for thrills, riches, and glory. To publicly exhibit some condolence to those who were far less fortunate seems a fitting and necessary counter-balance to the weight of glory.

Many acknowledge a 'spirit of the Speedway' that they experience when visiting. While difficult to substantiate in a logical way, I've felt it as well nearly every visit. I don't think it a stretch to consider that something well beyond our understanding may be 'touching' our psyche in those moments and to me, it feels as if it is from those who are gone.

Hokey-sounding perhaps, but I can assure you something I've experienced, and not imagined. 

So before I succumb to the annual rites of celebration and 'shaking down of the thunder' that arrive with my annual trip to the Speedway for the Indy 500 weekend, I'm feeling the need to take a moment today, this opening day at IMS, in solemn reflection of those whose lives were forever altered or mortally concluded at the Speedway. 

If nothing else, I'll take those moments when they come (much like today) to consider the lives lost at the speedway and extend into the sky/universe a solemn acknowledgement of their sacrifice.