I've been watching more racing in recent years, and lately I've been going back and reading about the history of racing and watching older races and clips on YouTube. This weekend, I picked two big races at random: The 1987 Indy 500 and the 1985 Daytona 500. I had watched the first race as it happened, but I didn't remember the result.
It opens, as these things do, with peppy orchestral music and a Jim McKay monologue. His narration lives up to the moment.
Holy shit. I don't think that Spiro Dedes has the gravitas to pull that off before a Raiders/Jaguars game.Right now, the cars sit still in the starting grid, surrounded by thousands of the curious who are fortunate enough to have pit passes. The drivers? Well, they still wait in the wings, like stars of the theater, poised for a dramatic entrance.
It's time for an American ritual of the Memorial Day weekend. Each person comes for his or her own reason. Some simply for a happening. Others for the status of a celebrity suite. Most just fans of automobile racing. But all, not as ghouls in search of accidents, as some people contend, but human beings wanting to see others of their species battle the dark forces and emerge with their hand in the air.
McKay plays the role of host, popping up here and there to give status updates of the race. Jim Lampley handles the play-by-play, joined by Sam Posey and Bobby Unser in the booth. Al Trautwig and Jack Arute report in the pits and the infield.
Trautwig gives a tour of Paul Newman's bus. (Newman is a co-owner of Mario Andretti's car.) At the end of the segment, Trautwig informs us that the race is blacked out locally. Man, eff that. I understand the rationale for black-out rules, but there's no way that that would encourage me to attend the race. Going to an event with 250,000 people is a level of hell I hope to never endure. McKay later says, 'Today there are two kinds of people in Indiana: those who are at the race, and those who wish they were.' That's a cute line, but I would guess that it is factually incorrect.
Seeing Lampley is strange. I don't recall him being a top guy at ABC or broadcasting the really big events. I had no idea that he called the Indy 500. He might have been too perfect: too good-looking, too smooth and polished of a talker. Just never left an impression on me.
After Jim Nabors sings 'Back Home Again In Indiana,' the race starts. This was a fantastic race, and on the odd chance that one of you wants to watch it, consider everything that follows to be a spoiler. You can start reading again after you see a photo of the old-school Goodyear blimp.
Big-time front row of Mario Andretti, Bobby Rahal, and Rick Mears. Other notables back in the pack: AJ Foyt, Roberto Guerrero, Arie Luyendyk, Danny Sullivan, Gordon Johncock, Al Unser Jr. and Sr., Tom Sneva, Emerson Fittipaldi. Magical names.
The early story of the race is Andretti's 18-year run of bad luck at Indy since he won in 1969, but how strong he had been running leading up the race. He looks strong early on, pulling way ahead of the pack, putting 13 seconds between him and second place. About 36 laps in, Rahal withdraws with engine trouble, and Andretti laps Mears. By lap 42, only four cars are still on the lead lap.
On lap 66, Lampley reports that Andretti will get a stop-and-go penalty for passing under a yellow flag. But he doesn't stop. Jack Arute reports that the crew hasn't heard anything about it. Some confusion. Drama! Turns out there is no penalty.
Thru the first 115 laps, Andretti leads 107 of them. Total domination. By lap 154, he has lapped the field. Unser Sr., Guerrero, and Sullivan are one lap back. Sullivan drops out a few laps later with engine trouble.
Then it happens. With 23 laps remaining, Andretti has engine trouble and limps to the pit. Guerrero eventually but inevitably passes him. So now it's a two-man race, between Guerrero and Unser Sr. With 18 laps remaining, Guerrero stalls in the pits, and Unser takes over the lead, and he hangs on for the win.
It's heartbreaking to see Andretti lose again, but a pretty great story for Unser, who did not have a car or sponsorship that year, only taking over a car after another driver, Danny Ongais, was injured in practice. Bobby Unser loses his mind in the broadcasters' booth.
There were 26 practice crashes, but the race itself was very clean. A handful of cautions here and there, but no huge crashes. But a spectator died when he was hit by a tire that entered the stands.
I also watched the 1985 Daytona 500. These were two pretty similar races. No big crashes, very few cautions, few lead changes, dominated for the most part by one driver. In the Daytona, Bill Elliot made this one a snoozer. This was before the days of restrictor plates, so if somebody had a great car, he didn't need to find somebody to draft with. Instead, he seemed to spend most of the race out in front by himself, the only car in the camera shot.
But the Indy race was so much more watchable, so much more exciting. Not sure how much of that is due to my childhood bias, or the difference between ABC's and CBS's coverage, or the fact that Indy racing was simply a bigger deal in the mid-'80s than Nascar was.
Around laps 85-95, a bunch of drivers dropped out with engine trouble, including Richard Petty. When he was interviewed, I expected him to be curt. Instead, he was smiling, loose, charming. Easy to see why fans and sponsors flocked to him. Petty didn't wear gloves, by the way.
Not much noteworthy in the race, except for two prerecorded features that aired under caution. The first was about Tim Richmond, the second about JD McDuffie. The Richmond piece, accompanied by Irene Cara's 'Fame,' played up his playboy persona, showing him on his boat. Also talked about his healthy lifestyle. Here he is in a fruit market. Here he is eating grapes. And, rather hilariously, here he is the only man in an aerobics class. The McDuffie piece is sad. Talks about his lack of money and sponsorships. His wife talks about wanting him to retire. Richmond and McDuffie would both be dead within six years.
