Not Indiana Jones, the Indianapolis 500. I’ll lay claim to being CBT’s most fanatical devotee of the race, having watched every single one at the earliest possible time for the last 32 years, even threatening to walk out of two jobs that suggested that I miss the Greatest Spectacle In Racing.
I’m just going to give all of you a brief on my feelings about the best five hundred miles anyone can watch, and hopefully one or two of you might be inspired to watch a bit of the race next year. I don’t hold hope you’ll catch it all, three to four hours of left turns has to be built up to.
Winner: Scott Dixon. Great humble New Zealander who’s had a bit of trouble at the brickyard who did what he’d done all month: dominate the track. He had contenders, but it was his race to lose or luck’s to take away from him. He decided he was indeed thirsty for milk and Mr. Gremlin stayed away from his car. Congratulations!
Honorable mention: Tony Kanaan. When he came into the league he played the Vin Diesel character he looked like, but has grown and matured into a real racing gentleman. He took Marco’s low-pass-shutout with grace and patience, and (probably rightly) attributed it to youthful exuberance. When told he’d collected Sarah Fisher, he looked crushed and genuinely looked sorry for her, knowing what she’d been through. Dixon might have gotten the milk, but Kanaan deserved the sportsmanship award.
Sarah Fisher: When you watch her reaction, don’t assume she’s crying because she’s a girl. I’ve seen almost everyone at that race cry with the exception of A.J. Foyt who’s boot leather. She’d come so far and through so much, that the emotions of the Brickyard take hold when you reach the top or hit bottom. I wouldn’t be suprised if a class act such as Andretti-Green give her some support in her bid to make Kentucky.
Loser:
Danica Patrick. I understand the swirl of attention and applauded her win at Twin Ring Motegi, but at Indy she took some black marks to the reputation. Her new “GoDaddy” commercial celebrates her as an inspiration, then features the inspired girl to bump her competetor of the track. Insipid and despicable. But just when you were ready to chalk it up to artistic licence, she stalks down the pit road to seek a confrontation with Ryan Briscoe. Just like you can’t take Fisher’s crying as female emotionalism, you cannot justify this action as “just trying to be one of the boys”. She knows the scrutiny she’s under both by her position and by dint of driving for one of the best teams in the league. This is just bad sportsmanship, and she should have known to let the teams sort it out. It, despite what the idiot thinks, was all on Briscoe but it’s up to her to take the high road here and let him make a fool of himself. If Marco can apologize to sniping under one of his teammates, she should realize crap happens at Indy. Bad form, bad form.
Finally, it’s good to see the Halman-Georges have let bygones be bygones in this post unification era, letting Fittipaldi drive the pace car. Essentially blackballed from IRL since the infamous orange juice fiasco following his win, his return is symbolic that the two leagues have merged amicably and for the best.
Next year is going to be pure awesomeness.
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