The place to start is last Thursday, which they call Carburetion Day at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway. That is when the long Memorial Day weekend really kicks off at that place, and when–more significantly–the drivers get their last chance to run that famed oval before racing in the Indy 500 itself.
But just as it did through most of May, it rained much of that afternoon and curtailed a huge chunk of that practice time so many of them needed. This was clearly cause for concern since 17 of those drivers were rookies whose knowledge could only be helped by each additional lap they took. Yet, there was scant little of that concern. It was replaced by a stance as striking as it was surprising.
They were about to run an oval that contains more secrets than the CIA, and that can jump up and bite even a veteran with the suddeness of a snake lick. They were about to do this with severely limited experience in Indy-cars, and with both controversy and the eyes of the racing world upon them. Yet here they were, just 72 hours before starting the most-famous race in their sport, and they were talking about getting on-the-job training.
That is why it was a delightful surprise they did their job so safely Sunday afternoon, when the 500’s most-frightening moment came with the last-lap crash that involved not one of the rookies, but veterans Roberto Guerrero, Eliseo Salazar and Alessandro Zampedri.
This is not to say that everything is seashells and balloons at the Indianapolis 500. It isn’t, even though Speedway President Tony George proved he could stage his race without his sport’s marquee names.
It unfolded, in fact, more smoothly than the U.S. 500, where those marquee names were in the wake of the feud that has split the racing world. The origins of that feud are harder to put together than one of those old Rubik’s Cubes. But the main protagonists are George, who this year created the Indy Racing League, and the powerful team owners (like Roger Penske) of CART.
George claims he started his series so young drivers who were being shut out by those powerful owners would have a chance to drive Indy-cars. The owners claim George is hardly so altruistic, and is nothing but a petty dictator out to gain control of their sport. George claims he is trying to preserve the tradition of Indy-car racing by running on ovals. The owners, whose CART series is run on both ovals and on the road, claim George merely tampered with tradition when he reserved 25 spots in this year’s Indy field for drivers from his IRL.
This last declaration was the proverbial straw that broke the back of even preliminary truce talks, and produced both the rookie-laden Indy field and the U.S. 500. It is also why the days and weeks leading up to Indy lacked the electricity that usually courses through the Speedway, and why, even on Sunday, the stands did not appear as packed or as manic as they normally are.
George, not suprisingly, did not sense any of this.
“All in all, it was a very good race,” he said “. . . (But) critics will always be critics. We will just continue to try to prove that we have a product and an idea that wants development, and we will continue to develop.”
He will do that with a new IRL season scheduled to kick off in August at the New Hampshire International Speedway, and that alone is enough to indicate that peace is not at hand. Also, next year the IRL will use one type of chassis and engine and CART different types.
This means that next year’s Indy will again be without its sports’ best-known drivers unless those drivers split with their owners to just run in the 500. Or unless those owners swallow their pride and invest a huge chunk of change to buy or develop the chassis and engine needed to run at Indy. Or unless those no-names who mottled Indy on Sunday develop during their on-the-job training and themselves become known names.
Or unless hell freezes over.
