Welcome to the first and hopefully not the last "Feelin' Dizzy" blog, now here on Blogspot. For most of 2007 and the first month or two of 2008 I wrote on a weekly basis over at myracer.com, only to find readership lacking and the site overhauled by a plethora of amateurs and PR posters merely just trying to advertise their product. It will be nice to offer my youthful perspective on the fascinating world of motorsports, mostly open-wheel but whatever is making news over the course of the weekend, in this space for the weeks and months to come.
And that said, what a perfect time to compile thoughts from the weekend just passed. I just returned to my adopted hometown of Milwaukee - famous for its beer and frigid winters, especially the one just completed - after attending my first Indianapolis 500. Suffice to say this was a better experience than the last time I visited the Speedway, for the ill-fated fiasco disguised as an official Grand Prix, the 2005 U.S. Bridgestone tire test for six well-prepared cars.
Arriving at the track still gives one chills, even if the notorious "Yellow Shirts" are directing you into a lot as far as possible from the media center. At least this was only for one day. My counterpart for the 11 days I was here, and bless his heart for putting up with me for that long, had all sorts of colorful comments about the speedway staff whose egos far outweigh their competency at performing their tasks. Perhaps the legendary '93 Chrysler Lebaron that he was piloting wasn't worthy of being parked near our workplace on this particular day.
Bump day had its moments, particularly the final half-hour when first Mario Dominguez, then Buddy Lazier compiled the necessary efforts to get in the show. Particularly gut-wrenching was when Dominguez's absolute last-ditch effort had the speed but not the longevity to bump his way back in. And of course the driver notorious for his affinity with walls during his Champ Car days found the barriers on this run, for the third time during the month and second time in a little over 24 hours.
His team, Pacific Coast Motorsports, has always done a lot with a little, but this had to have set them back both psychologically and financially despite the always upbeat attitude of team owner Tyler Tadevic. If only the rest of the owners could always see the silver lining as much as Tyler does, and a fitting reward to see him take the tough luck "Jigger" award at the AARWBA breakfast the next Saturday morning.
Much as I hated it for PCM, Roger Yasukawa, and Max Papis, it was great to see the emotion of making it in return for the first time in years. Not the faux drama that has been exposed the last couple years, i.e. the Tony Stewart bluff a few years back and then Paul Diatlovich's still ridiculous comment last year that by not giving Jimmy Kite a car fast enough to qualify, he was letting down "one of the greatest drivers to ever grace the Indianapolis Motor Speedway." I'm not kidding.
Lazier needed his shades to conceal the tears, and for a previous winner of the 500, just qualifying was reward enough for his last-ditch, last-weekend effort. He wouldn't do anything on raceday other than spin out an improved Milka Duno, but hey, at least he made it. More importantly, Mrs. Lazier got to stick around for another seven days...
There were a number of great events during the week, Wednesday's Community Day festivities featuring old cars and tours of normally exclusive areas and the Speedway's Centennial plans at the gorgeous and historic Allison Mansion in particular standing out. There's something unique about being the youngest person in the latter arena, and naturally to me, it appeared all eyes in the area had just one target.
It was particularly nerve-wracking once Speedway board chair Mari Hulman George decided to shun a front row seat and sitting next to one Tony George, to sit next to another Tony (me). Next to her was Jim Nabors.
Good golly, sargeant.
So, no pressure, right? Just dropping a crumb at this place as IMS President/COO Joie Chitwood delivered the speech introducing a new logo and events for the next three years would have gotten me kicked out faster than the first guy Britney Spears married. Shockingly, Mrs. George speaks and initiates conversations. From years of watching on TV, I was under the impression she was racing's groundhog - she'd see her shadow giving the command to start engines on raceday and then go into hibernation for another year. Proud to report that isn't the case.
The Indy Star's Curt Cavin referred to me from that point forward as "Mari's new best friend." She hasn't yet returned my phone calls...
Friday was my first Carb Day experience, and even with the rain that plagued all but ten minutes of on-track activity, it was still something to behold. I had never seen so many beer cans littered all over the place. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure IMS goes to great lengths to keep the place in shape but Carb Day is when that all goes out the window. That is quite possibly the only reason why all on-track activity wasn't canceled sooner than it was. Chitwood saying this was a "successful day" is slang for "we sold a helluva lot of alcohol." At least the Stone Temple Pilots concert went off OK...
Saturday was the Indy Lights race, and after seeing the dashing Swiss miss Cyndie Allemann several times over the course of the week, it was a personal letdown to see her plummet down the order from her 8th starting position and then drop out completely with mechanical woes. Another lad I saw a lot, the Italian-sounding Englishman Dillon Battistini, held off all comers to score a deserved win from pole. Also a shout to Mike Potekhen, who cut his starting position (26th) in half by the time the race was over in a one-off race. I went to his shop earlier in the week and he is arguably one of the nicest guys out there, considering I talked to many drivers over the course of the week.
Sunday had to come eventually and after an hour and a half waiting in traffic to go ten miles in our Lebaron - the Indy cops didn't let a soul go eastbound on 30th and Georgetown - we finally arrived in our seats at the media center. Watched the F1 race and of course when I ventured out to take pics of the B-list celebs (at best) that waltzed the red carpet, missed the moment when poor Adrian Sutil was taken out of a sensational 4th place.
But from there it was time to walk the grid. Still gives me chills now even writing about it. Just seeing all the people, whether in the stands or the pit lane, packed all into one place simultaneously is truly something to behold from a "being there" standpoint. Yes, forgive me for the cliche, but it cannot be comprehended from watching on TV.
To be honest the race was a bit anti-climactic in my opinion; as Scott Dixon was fastest all month, it would have been a tad unfair had he not won the race. Often times the fastest car doesn't earn the spoils, drink the milk and embark on an endless media tour, but fittingly Dixon did this year. The wrecks were a bit amateurish at times and really showcased the lack of practice time.
My take on the two big hits for the AGR teammates. Marco's pass was ambitious, sure, but given the difficulty passing during the day since the cars are so aero-dependent, I don't blame him for making the run. There's no rule saying you can't race/pass your teammate, just don't wreck him. And since TK would have been fine had Sarah Fisher not been there after he spun, I would classify it as more of a racing incident that just happened to be between teammates.
The Danica accident, in my opinion, was clearly Briscoe's fault. With two lanes, Briscoe could have easily pulled into the middle lane to get up to speed and then fall back into line. That's not saying he should just yield to Ms. Patrick, but anyone just leaving goes into one lane and then over to the next once there is room to merge. The tank-slapping, rear-ending that tagged Danica was a result of Briscoe's exuberance when he could have been patient.
She doesn't get off easy, though. That was one of the most unprofessional things I have seen when she waltzed down pit lane to pick a bone with Briscoe. Rivalries and fights are good, but as she should know having created a melee earlier this month - and been completely absolved of blame - you can't walk down a hot pit lane during on-track activity and expect to get away with it! Lest we forget that back then Danica ploughed Dale Coyne crewmember Charles Buckman when he was on pit road and sent him to the hospital with head injuries. For her own safety if nothing else, she should have hopped from her car and gone behind the pit wall to have a word with Briscoe. Who was to know a car wouldn't come in where she was walking? Her emotion can seem legit, but still a tad over-dramatized at times.
As for Briscoe, his days at Penske's IndyCar team should be numbered. Whether they are or not is a different matter. His speed is there, obviously, but then again anyone could jump in Penske equipment and qualify well. With three crashes and no top-five finishes from five starts this year, he is far from Penske material and perhaps Roger should take a look at who his son, Jay, has employed of late: Tomas Scheckter.
A driver who has matured exponentially since his early years in IndyCar, yet still bounced around like a pinball, Scheckter was the darkhorse who ran in the top five all day for the part-time Luczo Dragon effort and probably could have won with a bit of luck and another break. The only break he incurred was that of his driveshaft. Afterwards he seemed the most thankful of all for his opportunity. He's been in the wrong place at the wrong time throughout his career - Ganassi when they were the transitioning team from Champ Car, Panther on the decline from the Hornish title years, Vision when they were a two-car team with capable resources for only one.
Given his natural skills and experience, something Briscoe appears to have shunned since earning the seat at the beginning of the year, the South African would be a great choice to return to the series full-time.
Enough musings and ramblings for this week; up next is the fantastic Milwaukee Mile event with 27 cars on a short-track, just like the old days. Until then, cheers.
