Sept. 24, 2007 - Fans Have Variety To Choose From

This past weekend found me at O’Reilly Raceway Park for the inaugural Circle Track Nationals, a four-division gala headlined by the CRA Super Late Models. I ran into a couple of friends during the night, and got the same response each time: “You’re not at the (Eldora) 4-Crown?” they asked, eyebrows arched. “You came to a stock-car race instead?”

The fact is, I like lots of different race cars. The night was fun and exciting, and it was just a half-hour from home. Did I mention that it was just a half-hour from home? At this point of the season the long drives home through the night aren’t much fun, I’ll admit. Still, I probably would have gone to ORP anyway, just for the variety.

I’m surprised at how segmented racing has become these days. There are about a zillion different classes today in short track racing, with less and less overlap as time goes on. Late models on either dirt or pavement; modifieds on dirt or pavement; sprint cars, both with and without wings, 410, 360, or 305, on dirt or pavement; full midgets, Focus midgets, Kenyon midgets, or TQ midgets; mini-sprints, street stocks, bombers, baby grands, and whatever; go-karts and on and on and on.

There used to be something called simply, “race fan.” Believe it or not, that described most of us some years ago. But it seems that most folks have today become so focused on one particular type of racing, they’ve eliminated all the other types from their diet. Maybe it’s because most divisions had fewer races back then, and there was more natural overlap; or maybe it’s because media coverage (and the web) today allow us to spend every available moment reading about or discussing one particular type of racing.

One thing I definitely find irritating is a growing intolerance among race fans. A guy is an ardent dirt fan, for example, so he immediately thinks pavement is a complete waste of time. Or an open wheel fan who thinks any form of stock car is Satan’s diversion to send us all to Hell.

It’s kind of like a version of that old joke about religion: Two guys sit next to each other on an airplane. They get to talking and one mentions that he’s a race fan.

"Really?” says the other excitedly, shaking his hand. “What kind?”

“Sprint cars.”

“Wow! Me too! Dirt or pavement?”

“Dirt.”

“Great! What a small world! Wings or traditional?”

“Wings.”

“That’s wonderful! 410 or 360?”

“360.”

The man suddenly makes a face.

“Yuck!” he says, gathering up his things. “I’m moving to another seat!”

Well, something like that.

Variety is the spice of life, as far as I’m concerned, because I like almost everything with wheels. Maybe that’s unusual, but I don’t care. When I started this deal I was a newspaper sportswriter, which required me to cover many different forms of racing. That was a good education, because I learned early on that—and some people just don’t understand this—racers are racers. No one type is inherently superior to the other. Most are very interesting people, with very similar goals and objectives.

Frankly, it’s one more reason why it’s very cool to live in Indiana. We have a wide variety of racing in our back yard, every weekend. So why did I go to a stock car race on Saturday night? Because I could, that’s why!

Sept. 17, 2007 - Notes On Music

Someone asked me the other day if I’d ever considered songwriting. The fact is, I think it would be a great thrill to write songs. However, I don’t have a clue about the literal process of music, nor how to pair lyrics and melody.

Besides, there are other issues. See, I’ve read about all the starving songwriters in Nashville, which makes one think of the starving racing writers in Indianapolis. I’m already settled in here, and a fellow can really only be expected to starve in one place at one time, after all.

But I have found great inspiration in songs, at times. Not a word-for-word kind of inspiration, but rather an emotional kind of inspiration. A great song is able to make us FEEL what the songwriter was feeling at the time it was composed. That’s the ultimate test of any kind of writing; you have a feeling in your heart, and you put the words down on paper, and walk away. At another time and another place, someone else reads (or hears) the words and they experience the same emotions you were feeling when you put the words on paper. That, friends, is when a writer reaches a very special level.

When I think about the specific songs I’ve found memorable, most are traditional country songs. For some reason I’ve lost interest in today’s country music, and rarely listen. But traditional country, that’s a different story. That’s where I’ve heard some of the songs that truly moved me emotionally.

That’s ironic, because when I was a kid my dad would listen to nothing but country, which hadn’t yet morphed into pop music. Steel guitars ruled, and I detested their very sound. I was into Led Zeppelin and Alice Cooper, and my dad’s hillbilly music grated on me, day after day.

Then one day as an adult I realized I missed that old country sound. Pretty soon I was into Waylon and Willie, Merle Haggard, and the master of meaningful lyrics, Johnny Cash. I guess all those hours in the car listening to my dad’s music must have made an impression after all.

These days, I listen to a variety of music, ranging from classic rock to jazz to traditional country. I still enjoy songs that I can draw some meaning from, songs that speak to me.

When I hear songs such as “Help Me Make It Through The Night,” (written by Kris Kristofferson) or “Angel Flying Too Close To The Ground” (written by Willie Nelson), I’m in awe. The ability to write words, pair it to music, and allow the listener to be moved emotionally by the process, that’s impressive stuff.

It’s fun being a writer, and having the opportunity to share your words and thoughts with an audience. But when it comes to music, I’m probably destined to be just another listener, enthralled and entertained and impressed all at the same time.

Sept. 10, 2007 — Feeling Soggy For Folks At Eldora

I don’t know why, but it seems that it can rain harder and longer at Eldora Speedway than anywhere else on earth.

We’ve been parched here in the Midwest this summer, with rainfall being a scarcity. In fact, last week we had a beautiful run of sunshine and dry weather, yet guess when the rain finally moved into the area? That’s right, on race day at Eldora.

It was the 37th World 100, and by all indications it promised to be another enormous event. A 30-minute shower on Friday evening pushed back time trials, which eventually wrapped up in the early-morning hours of Saturday.

Saturday was warm and overcast, and a big black cloud came rolling in from the west around 4 p.m. But the front seemed to blow north, depositing only a few raindrops onto the Eldora grounds, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief and figured we were in the clear.

Suddenly at 5:30, out of nowhere it began to rain. Very quickly it turned into a hard rain, and everyone hurried for shelter. Little did we know, that rainfall was just a warm-up. After about 15 minutes the rain really got serious, and enveloped Eldora into a wet, gray blur of precipitation. Water poured through the parking lot, cutting ruts through the dirt. Big puddles dotted the walkways, and the area was soon an absolute swamp.

I’m an old farm boy, and I’ve seen some hard rain. But I have to admit, Saturday afternoon was not only the hardest rain I’ve seen in a while, but it was sustained for the longest period. Normally you’ll see such a burst only for a few minutes; this rain pelted us for at least 45 minutes before finally abating to a steady shower, then stopping outright about 6:30 or so.

Normally I’m lucky enough to get inside during such a storm, but this time it came too quickly. I had just sat down with Earl and Berneice Baltes for a book signing when the rain began, and before we could get to shelter we were soaked. I spent the next couple of hours walking around with jeans that seemed to weigh 40 pounds, and shoes that squished with every step. Still, things could be worse; I thought of the poor folks camped in little pup tents surrounding the track. After such a rain every one of their possessions had to be soaked; at least I could drive home later for some dry clothes.

Track officials still held out hope that the show could go on, and knowing the hardy folks here, I thought it might. But around 7:30 I got weary of my wet clothing and decided to go home, which lies two hours west. I wasn’t ten miles from the track when I ran into more rain. Indeed, that shower doomed the event, which was pushed back to Sunday afternoon.

Nobody likes a day race on dirt; except Jimmy Owens, of course, who won his first World 100. I wish I could have seen it, but family commitments kept me home on Sunday.

I’m pretty sure my shoes will be dry soon…maybe around May or so?

Sept. 3, 2007 — Team Tactics Are Hurting The Sport

What did you think of the “teamwork” at play last week in the IndyCar series at Infineon, where Tony Kanaan openly ran interference for a limping teammate Dario Franchitti in hopes of helping Dario win the ICS title?

I thought it stunk.

Some will look at the bottom line and argue that it’s simply taking care of business, but as we continue to push motorsports away from our “sports” heritage we move it ever closer to irrelevancy.

Racing should always be a no-holds-barred, tooth-and-nail battle right down to the bitter end. Every competitor should do their utmost to fight for every position, every lap, every race. That’s what fans pay to see, and that’s what defines great champions: They gave it their all, every time out, no matter what the circumstances.

When a racer intentionally holds back to help a teammate—or for any reason—it tarnishes the very nature of our sport. But that’s where we’re headed as we allow teams to become institutions, with three and four or more cars on the track. When a business entity becomes that large, financial stakes tend to become more and more significant. Pretty soon the bean-counters point out that it would be better if everybody would “cooperate” to help so-and-so, because the amount of money at stake for winning the title…you know the rest.

Andretti-Green Racing, which fields both Kanaan and Franchitti as well as Marco Andretti and Danica Patrick, has been on the hot seat many times over the past few seasons, with accusations of blocking following many races. But this time Kanaan openly admitted he slowed and became wide to protect his teammate.

So far we haven’t yet seen much of this in NASCAR, and it would be interesting to see how Mike Helton would deal with it. On one hand I think he’d take a dim view, because Helton has deep roots in this sport and would surely recognize that we don’t want to go down that path. On the other hand, NASCAR has become such a business juggernaut I sometimes wonder if their leaders are so mesmerized with the bottom line as to blind them of the fact that sometimes it’s got to be about more than money.

Kudos to former IndyCar great Rick Mears, who was properly outraged about Kanaan’s move. He said Tony should be “embarrassed” at what happened last week, and I have to agree. Tony is an excellent racer and I’m disappointed that he chose to protect instead of improve his position. That’s ultimately every racer’s job: Improve your position whenever possible, regardless of the circumstances.

Brian Barnhart, and everybody official in the ISC, really needs to step back and think about where all of this is headed. Barnhart needs to do more than wring his hands and express his concerns; he needs to get tough and get control of this series. Of course it’s easy for us to sit on the sidelines and tell somebody else to be tough, but in this case Brian has no choice. He’s got to assert himself and bring this series back to respectability; otherwise, open wheel racing fades further and further into the margins.