The interesting thing was, this race almost didn't happen - at least not for me. As you likely know, I would consider myself a racing fan, with a distinct predilection for Indycars. Sure, I started out with NASCAR and I'll still catch a few laps here and there; I also enjoy the skill, strategy and amazing machines of sports car racing. But for pure entertainment, for inspiring enough passion to yell at the television, for the nervous energy that means I have to stand up from the couch, nothing really does it like the wheel-to-wheel action of Indycars. As such, I've been to the Indycar races at Iowa Speedway with Stacia since they began in 2007.
The first time was all about the experience, seeing and living it all for the first time. The next few years we came almost by default - it was simply the thing we expected to be doing toward the end of June. But last year's event really made us reconsider. Not that the race was bad - it was actually pretty exciting and a guy that we both sort of rooted for ended up winning. The trouble came about by sitting in uncovered grandstands under a blazing sun for 3+ hours on a hot humid summer afternoon. Neither one of us felt great following the race, and Stacia had some pretty significant heat exhaustion symptoms. For ticket face values north of $50 a person, we weren't sure it was worth feeling sick over to be there in person when we could just watch it on TV.
So it came to be that the day before the race we had no tickets and didn't plan to do much more than watch the broadcast. I thought just for the off chance that I might find something, I'd poke around Craigslist. And what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a pair of tickets for all the support races that day and the big race (now on Saturday night, not Sunday afternoon) for a total of $60. I found the tickets around 9 AM, ran to the bank around 10, and at noon had a couple of guys stop by my office to make the exchange. It was a whirlwind series of events that left me in a bit of a bind. Friday night had a couple of minor league races scheduled as a buildup to the Indy race, plus qualifying for the big cars. It all started at 3:30, and the speedway is an hour's drive from home.
I managed to convince my boss to let me take off at 3:00, and I sped home as fast as our Honda scooter would take me, where I literally took off my helmet and jacket and jumped into the car to zoom out to the racetrack. Google maps predicted it would take me 55 minutes - we had the car parked at the track within 40, still a touch late but not missing much. I opened the door and immediately heard the familiar engine whine that meant cars on track. I smiled at Stacia, knowing we'd made the right choice. By time we got to our seats we'd missed just 4 cars out of 25 making their qualifying runs. As we settled in and each car in line roared to life, I couldn't imagine we thought about skipping this.
And that was just the start. In qualifying, the excitement built as the superpower teams struggled and relative unknown Takuma Sato took the pole with fan favorite Danica Patrick starting second. Then we sat through the caution-filled debacle of a USAC midget race, and the follow-the-leader affair of the USAC Silver Crown cars. The next day saw some practice runs, followed by the buildup to the main event. Star Mazda cars, a kind of mini Indycar, took to the track for a race that was side by side for the lead until one car's engine gave out halfway through. Indy Lights, the development series for Indycar, took to the track for a hard-fought battle between four different cars. It was all pretty fun, but it was just an aperitif to what was to come. As the driver introduction stage was moved into place, I began to jitter with nervous anticipation.
That anticipation built up through the intros, the anthem, as the drivers strapped into their machines, the "start your engines" command, and the first few pace laps. It came to a crescendo as the cars lined up in rows of two, their engines spooled up along the backstretch, and they finally came roaring out of turn four to take the green flag. I excitedly waved the green flag I'd been given at the entrance, along with 35,000 of my closest friends. The cars jostled back and forth, dodging and weaving as they sought to gain positions while so closely packed. Eventually, Dario Franchitti of the dominant Target race team began to pull away, as he had on more than one prior occasion.
But my eye wasn't often on him. I was more interested in the black #26 car with red scales and glaring red eyes on the front wing - the Venom Energy Drink-sponsored car of Marco Andretti. Grandson of fabled race driver Mario, Marco has shown flashes of brilliance throughout his young career, but rarely has been able to close, having only one win in five years of competition. He can come off as aloof and spoiled, supposedly symptoms of shyness (which I can totally understand), but seems like a "good kid." In addition, he is aggressive and has more guts than many of his competitors, frequently putting his car in places few would try. About halfway through the race, having passed many cars from his poor starting position, I leaned over to Stacia and yelled "Marco's using the high line." She smiled and nodded, knowing from prior races that Marco would soon be making breathtaking passes on the outside.
And so he did, bringing his car to the lead briefly, then dicing with former winners Dario Franchitti and Tony Kanaan. As the laps counted down, Dario's car began to fade, but Marco and Tony only upped the intensity of their battle, with Marco sweeping high lap after lap to pull alongside Tony but not quite able to pull off the pass. Then, with about 20 to go, in one of the sweetest moves I've seen, Marco ran high through two turns to build up momentum, pulled up behind Kanaan on the straightaway and darted inside just before the turn-in. Squeezed down as low as he could be by his rival, Marco blasted out of the turn and took the lead. As they had throughout the night, the stands erupted as he blew past the flagstand.
This dogfight wasn't over though. Kanaan fought back, taking advantage of Marco's preference for the high lane to try to duck in underneath. As we nervously counted down the handful of laps we were away from Marco's second victory, I worried whether he could hold off the much more seasoned racer running just inches behind and alongside him. Then in one final show of strength, with 5 laps to go, Marco tightened his apex in turns 1 and 2, disturbing the air in front of Kanaan's car, causing him to lose downforce on the front wing. As Kanaan was forced to lift off the throttle to control his car, Marco powered away and took the win moments later. I stood and cheered, still shaking from the tenacious battle I'd just witnessed.
I did eventually get the picture of the scoring pylon I'd wanted all along, with the number 26 proudly showing at the top. Stacia and I talked about how fantastic a race it had been, and how incredibly furious we would have been had we chosen to skip it. I don't yet know if we'll come back next year - the series is rolling out a brand-new car, and I just don't know if it will provide the thrills this race did. Frankly I'm not sure it's possible. But for one phenomenal weekend, I saw the best race ever. That was well worth the sixty dollars.
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