Give the vehicle some credit
The Indianapolis 500 is called the greatest spectacle in racing.
NASCAR is considered the biggest spectator sport in the United
States. But I really don’t know why America is so obsessed with
it.
Don’t get me wrong, my favorite song is the National Anthem. I
love apple pie and Chevrolet and I used to enjoy speed-shifting and
popping-the-clutch in some of the older 1960s muscle cars that I’ve
owned just as much as the next guy.
Give the vehicle some credit
The Indianapolis 500 is called the greatest spectacle in racing. NASCAR is considered the biggest spectator sport in the United States. But I really don’t know why America is so obsessed with it.
Don’t get me wrong, my favorite song is the National Anthem. I love apple pie and Chevrolet and I used to enjoy speed-shifting and popping-the-clutch in some of the older 1960s muscle cars that I’ve owned just as much as the next guy.
But I don’t understand what the obsession is of watching cars make nothing but left-hand turns for 500 miles on tracks that are so long that the action is difficult to see.
And it’s not just on ovals.
Those of you that went to the San Jose Grand Prix last year understand what I’m talking about. Between the heat, the crowds and the safety barriers it was next to impossible to watch the event. And it certainly wasn’t enjoyable.
So what’s the purpose of going? To toss back a few beers, eat a bunch of greasy fast food, people watch and shop for souvenirs and gifts?
Isn’t that what all the art and wine festivals are for?
At every other sporting event, you sit and watch the game. Even at a PGA Tour event, you walk the holes and follow your favorite pro or group.
At auto races you hear the action in the distance before the sound builds up into a deafening roar that sounds like a billion houseflys. Then instantly, the sound is gone again.
I couldn’t believe it last year. Here I am with a press pass standing in pit row in order watch Live Oak alum Jimmy Vasser hurl around the winding pot-hole-laden track and I can’t see anything. Yet I was closer to the action than the people that paid up to $160 a piece for their tickets.
With that said, the only time I got a glimpse of anything is when the drivers came in for fuel or for a quick tire change or by watching it on the giant televisions that were positioned along the course. If I wanted to watch TV, I would have stayed home.
The other problem I have with auto racing is the exact opposite problem that I have with horse racing.
In auto racing, the driver gets all the credit even though the car did the work. And in horse racing the horse gets all the credit even though it was the jockey that was telling it what to do.
They are both backwards. I’m sorry but I need it more black and white than that. In baseball, I can see who hit the homerun. In football, we know who should get credit for the touchdown pass, and we can see a knockout blow in boxing right in front of us.
Whether it’s golf, bowling or any other legitimate sport I can think of, success is the result of exceptional human performance, not because of some souped-up car or thoroughbred horse.
I’ll admit, though, that Barry Bonds has skewed things a bit with his alleged steroid use. Now if he passes Hammering Hank, do we credit him or the pills? He’s now in the same category as horse racing and auto racing.
But that’s a column for another week.
Today the cars are all built exactly alike with the exact same specifications. Sure, it’s made things fairer from a mechanical standpoint, but it’s made the drivers drive more like they were all born on an assembly line. How does the driver’s mechanic today get the credit when his car is now plugged into a computer and analyzed and told exactly what is wrong? Today’s driver just gets in, turns the steering wheel in the direction he wants to go (left) and hits the throttle. If a problem arises, he’s told so in his headset.
During Lee Petty’s heyday, it took a crafty mechanic and gutsy driving to win. And they had to find a way to win to have enough money to eat.
Now they just get out there and go through the motions for several million a year.
Sam Hornish Jr. earned $1,744,855 from a record purse of $10,518,565 for his victory at the Indianapolis 500 this past week.
If only Lee Petty could see it now.
I know we sure can’t, unless we’re watching it in our living rooms …
