Category: OLD SPORT SHORTS (Page 50 of 68)

I remember how excited we would get on Race Day in Indianapolis. We had black-and-white checkered flags decorating the yard and a Valvoline banner over the garage. We’d get up at 3 a.m. to head to the Speedway, anticipating problems with traffic and parking. The unwritten rule was that if you don’t go early – don’t go at all. The very first couple of years I went, we didn’t even have seats, so we wandered around the infield with the rest of the masses. In those days, race fans put together elaborate canvas villages on the inside of the track with furniture, carpeting, bars, and unbelievable spreads of food. Cars were even allowed inside the two-and-a-half-mile oval. Everything was usually left behind at the end of the day like an abandoned homeless camp. It was the closest thing to Woodstock that I could ever imagine.

Getting to and from the track was the biggest challenge, no matter how much experience you had with attending the event. You could easily sit for hours in traffic before you finally found a parking spot. There was a Coca-Cola lot directly across from the track that served us for the first couple of years, but it was often muddy, congested, and relatively costly. It was even more difficult to navigate at the end of the day. Also, your seats could be clear on the other side of the track, so you needed to be prepared to walk several miles hauling a heavy cooler. Concession prices were high in those early days of living on a strict budget and the lines to get food & beverages daunting. You also never knew what you might witness in an infield restroom. It was a great sense of relief once you finally found your seats and settled in for the start, after 6 or 7 hours of bumper-to-bumper traffic, suffocating crowds, long walks, stairs, and dealing with seat poachers who were hoping you wouldn’t show-up.  

Radio was king since television coverage of the race was blacked-out in the city, and the sounds of driver and owner pre-race interviews filled the air.  Festivities started at 9:30 a.m with parade laps, dignitary recognition, a balloon release and the traditional singing of “Back Home Again In Indiana” by Jim Nabors. These activities would be followed an Air Force jet fly-over and the now chauvinistic words of, “Gentlemen start your engines.” I was usually enamored by the start of the race, and then would lose interest until the finish. There were no big screen monitors at that time, so everyone only witnessed a small window of the competition, unless you could observe the constant activity in the pits. The radio announcers kept you informed of what was happening where you weren’t.

Those were the good old days. before I had the connections and cash to get to the track by police escort and even on one occasion a helicopter. I had badges and parking passes that eased the way through security, and access to the pit area, garages, hospitality and suites. I could leave a little later, eat a little better, and see more of the race. It was a much better experience, but I’m sure I wouldn’t have appreciated it as much if I didn’t pay my dues. I usually had access to any kind of tickets through the media and rarely had to pay, so I’ve always been spoiled in that regard. However, everyone was on their own getting to the track and a parking pass was the most valuable asset you could possibly own.

It was a completely different experience at the Portland International Raceway yesterday. Of course, it’s in no way comparable to the massive size and crowds of the Indy 500, but it has the distinct advantage of being conveniently located directly on the public transportation rail-line. We paid an “Honored Citizen” rate of $2.50, parked for free, and rode to and from the entrance of the track hassle free. We left two hours before the race and got there in time for the pre-race ceremonies. It was probably the best track navigation experience I’ve had, other than the helicopter, and certainly the cheapest. Even some of the drivers indicated that it took them more time to get into the track then me, as eager fans stuck to the old-fashioned rule of arriving early. I might even think about going back next year and leaving a little later!

Also see Post #330

It’s been 10 years since Indy Car racing has been in Portland and 30 years since I’ve been to a race here. At that time, I was part of a sports marketing group cleverly called BRG Sports Marketing. There were just four of us in the operation, the three founding partners and myself. I was kind of the tag-a-long “weekend warrior,” who worked out a few small deals for the team, but got to experience the not-so-glamorous life of traveling from circuit to circuit. As a result, I’ve been to most of the racetracks around the country, and one time even got to be part of the pit crew, although my main role was to develop and entertain our sponsors. Yesterday, I was back on pit row, reliving some of the memories of that busy time in my life.

A buddy of mine got us Paddock passes for the practice session, qualifying, and the race on Sunday. Our seats are in the inside of the track at the chicane that you see on the layout of the course that headlines this post. We took the MAX to avoid any parking problems usually associated with an event of this size. I was able to hook-up with an old friend from the radio business, who really introduced me to sponsorship aspects of the sport. Her husband was a driver, and now so is her son, so she owns her own sports marketing firm back in Indianapolis. I had not seen her in at least 20-years but we eased back into the friendship. I had arranged to meet her at the track after a mutual friend, who couldn’t come to Portland, put us back in touch with each other over the phone. I also got together with two other pit crew “teammates,” and spoke with the current manager of the facility, who was my radio advertising account a few years ago before my retirement. The other thing I noticed was that while it was a work day for most people, I did not feel that guilt of sneaking away from the office to go network at the speedway. I remember being at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway almost every “work” day in May, and would often go into the office very early to get my “real” work done before heading to the track for my “play” job.

Thirty years ago it was names like Andretti, Foyt, Unser, Coyne, Daly, Fittipaldi, and Rahal. These racing families are still active in the sport, but today it’s sons and grandsons, while the former stars are now owners. It was amazing to see some of the massive pop-up garage and suite structures that have been developed to house equipment and entertain clients. It’s like the old days when the circus came to town, but modernized with hydraulics, sleek transporters, and luxury motor homes. It’s very different from the permanent garage facilities at the larger speedways. I haven’t been to an Indy Car race for probably 16 years, but I have attended the Brickyard 500, Formula One races in both Indy and Austin, plus the Daytona 500 since my last Indy Car event at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway. In each case, it’s an adventure just trying to have a normal conversation, and probably one of many reasons why my hearing is suffering. What did you say? I said…”Let’s Go Racing!” “What? Who’s singing?”