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10 Dec 2012
2 Comments

IndyCar Fan Dilemma: Fever Pitch Edition

I’m a sap.  There, I’ve admitted it.  Everyone thinks I only care about sports, action movies, and sophomoric comedy for entertainment, and to some degree, they are right.  I like all those things.  But in the deep, dark corners of my heart lurks that bane of manliness, that enemy of all things male: the hopeless romantic.  Please don’t judge me harshly.  It is my belief that some form of romanticism plays hide-and-seek in the souls of all men.  It is what keeps us from really being the miserable bastards that most people assume we are.  My guilty romantic pleasure is the genre of movies called romantic comedy.  Show me someone making a life-altering decision or suffering from the injustices of the world around them, and a salty tear will roll down my cheek to the amusement of my family.  Of course, I fake coughs, yawns, and eyeglass adjustments to cover the tears, but I fool no one.  If the movie includes an animal, then audible sobs ensue.  This is my deep secret and my shame.  The question is how this baloney relates to IndyCar.  The answer can be found in the romantic comedy Fever Pitch.

In the movie, Jimmy Fallon and Drew Barrymore star as Ben and Lindsey, two mismatched lovers with entirely different perspectives about life.  Ben is a Boston Red Sox fan who has given his complete devotion to a franchise that continues to break his heart with epic collapses and mismanagement.¹  The movie examines the humor, absurdity, and pathos of giving your heart and soul to something that cannot love you back.  All hard-core IndyCar fans can see the connection of this to the IZOD IndyCar Series.  One of my go-to conceits in this blog is to connect movie lines to the doings in IndyCar.  Let me show you how IndyCar and Fever Pitch dovetail.

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Ben: We scout the players.  We say which players they should keep.

Lindsey:  Which players they should get rid of?  And the Red Sox ask your opinion?

Ben: Well, not yet.  But if they ever do…

Ben attends Spring Training in Florida every year and tries to explain to Lindsey why this is a completely rational obsession.  Ben is channeling the hard-core IndyCar fans and bloggers.  These individuals (and I am a card-carrying member) are heavily invested in IndyCar, quite likely in a way that seems unhealthy to the uninitiated but in a way that seems normal to us.  Like Ben, the hard-core fans on Twitter, Track Forum, and on the various blogs just know what the answer is if only someone would listen to us.  IndyCar fans are like the long-suffering Red Sox or Cubs fans.  We show up every year only to have management, owners, promoters, and/or drivers break our hearts, but unlike the devoted fans of those star-crossed baseball franchises, many of us are coming out of our self-induced hypnosis.  We realize that our love is not being reciprocated by that entity to which we give ourselves.  Bill Zahren (@pressdog) asks for level-headedness about this topic here, and Tony Johns (@TonyJWriter) questions the value of the emotional investment required to be an IndyCar fan here.  Both writers opine often about the emotional and financial investment needed to be a hard-core fan and reference, in one way or another, the business concept of return on investment (ROI).  The basic question is this:  is the time and money put into following IndyCar worth what IndyCar gives us?  And that’s really the question facing IndyCar fans right now.  Of course, there are always the Kool-Aid drinkers who may see problems, but never lose their hope and emotional connection.  For better or worse, that’s me.

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Ryan: You love the Red Sox, but have they ever loved you back?

Ben: Who do you think you are, Dr. Phil? Go on, get outta here!

A character in the movie asks Ben this existential question: how can you love something that is incapable of loving you back.  Most of us deal with this issue by simply ignoring it.  Like Ben in the movie, we put our hands over our ears and pretend that the question was never asked.  The reason IndyCar fans are coming out of their “Yes, sir.  May I have another?” dysfunctional relationship with IndyCar is because they honestly felt that someone in charge, Randy Bernard, was actually loving them back.  This novel approach to marketing, paying attention to and acknowledging the concerns of your customers, made the fans feel like shareholders.  And the fans liked it.  But unlike the baseball fans in Boston shelling out their money to pack the stands, this reaching out to fans in IndyCar did not immediately pay the dividends of packed houses at racing venues around the country.  So like dysfunctional sports franchises across the country, the owners of IndyCar sacked their leader because he did not change the culture that they created.  What he did do was show the fans a little love back, which goes a long way with any fan.  It is nice to know you are appreciated.  Do you feel me?  But the owners and the drivers wanted to feel a little love, too.  When they didn’t, they were no longer fans.

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Troy: Why do we inflict this on ourselves?

Ben: Why? I’ll tell you why, ’cause the Red Sox never let you down.

Troy: Huh?

Ben: That’s right. I mean – why? Because they haven’t won a World Series in a century or so? So what? They’re here. Every April, they’re here. At 1:05 or at 7:05, there is a game. And if it gets rained out, guess what? They make it up to you. Does anyone else in your life do that? The Red Sox don’t get divorced. This is a real family. This is the family that’s here for you.

Ben and his friend are talking about why they put themselves through the rigors and heartbreak of being Sox fans.  Even though the Sox never won (until the movie was made in 2004), they still showed up and that act gave you hope.  A common thread of current INDYCAR fans seems to be exactly that.  Why do we do it?  Is it worth it?  The payoff is simply the renewal of the thing you love without reservation.  Every year it’s still there.  The fans of IndyCar mark the calendar by the month of May.  Regardless of the sanctioning body, the car, the drivers, or the owners, the Indianapolis 500 lets us all know that one thing will never let us down.  We truly know what it’s like to be a fan, to love something that is bigger than us, to know that the total really can be more than the sum of its parts.  But as much as this seems to complete many of us, it is not enough.

With all the justifiable jerking of knees and gnashing of teeth by American open-wheel fans about the series, the owners, the drivers, and the management, the big picture is still simple.  INDYCAR needs to grow new fans at the risk of alienating the hard-core fans who do not exist in enough numbers to drive the series forwards.  It’s a dilemma.  And the true hard-core lovers of open-wheel, with all of our opinions and solutions, really do not have the answers.  The answers that Mark Miles of Hulman & Co., Jeff Belklus of IMS and INDYCAR, and whoever is eventually hired to run the series have to focus on how to create new fans who will eventually become the hard-core fans of the future.  Those new fans may not reflect the car/driver/track ethos that current long-time fans have.  The series may need concerts, carnivals, support series, feature-length animated movies, and other draws to get and keep fans.  IndyCar fans are starting to ask why they “inflict this on ourselves.”  American open-wheel racing need new fans.  But just like baking bread or brewing beer, it needs the yeast of the hard-core fan to get them started.  How will INDYCAR chose to keep the old and grow the new?  That’s the real question.

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Uncle Carl: [after seeing little Ben is liking the Red Sox after his first game] Careful, kid. They’ll break your heart.

Ben’s Uncle Carl is the man who initiated Ben into the nuances of worshiping at the Church of the Red Sox.  His admonition to his nephew is a powerful warning to all fans of IndyCar, new or old.  I guess the possibility of having our hearts broken is the risk we all take in loving open-wheel racing.  The problem is IndyCar is running out of hearts to break.

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1.  The movie was filmed in 2004 and was expected to end with the Red Sox once again disappointing their fans and with Ben and Lindsey coming together to show that love is more important and enduring than sports, but the Red Sox won the World Series and forced a new ending to be written.  Fact and fiction once again freaks us out.

Posted in Humor, Opinions and tagged , , , , , , , , , ,
04 Nov 2012
4 Comments

The INDYCAR Fraternity: Welcome to Animal House

The recent events at 16th and Georgetown have shown the disconnect between the fans and the core constituencies of INDYCAR, as defined by new INDYCAR Grand Potentate Jeff Belklus.  INDYCAR’s core constituencies,as defined by Belklus, are the owners, drivers, vendors, and business partners.  He did manage to publish an open letter to fans, quite likely ghosted by a PR wonk, hoping that this one missive posted online would let the fans know how important they were.  This cavalier, high-handed attitude toward the fans reminded me of someone:  Dean Wormer in Animal House.  It’s time for New Track Record to head back to the movies, comparing the principals in the current INDYCAR morass to characters in the movie Animal House. “Toga! Toga!”

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Dean Vernon Wormer: Greg, what is the worst fraternity on this campus?
Greg Marmalard: Well that would be hard to say, sir. They’re each outstanding in their own way.
Dean Vernon Wormer: Cut the horseshit, son. I’ve got their disciplinary files right here. Who dropped a whole truckload of fizzies into the varsity swim meet? Who delivered the medical school cadavers to the alumni dinner? Every Halloween, the trees are filled with underwear. Every spring, the toilets explode.
Greg Marmalard: You’re talking about Delta, sir.
Dean Vernon Wormer: Of course I’m talking about Delta, you TWERP!

This is Dean Wormer talking to his co-conspirator Greg Marmalard of the Omegas about the boys at Delta house.  This is a perfect fit.  Just assume that the Deltas are the fans and Dean Wormer is Jeff Belskus or any of the owners who are bothered by the pesky people who continue to show up at races to have a good time.  The boys at the top are exasperated over the fact that the FANS have certain expectations of treatment and have had the unmitigated gall to actually like Randy Bernard.  The next thing you know, the great unwashed will want everyone to communicate with them.  The audacity.

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Bluto: Hey! What’s all this laying around stuff? Why are you all still laying around here for?
Stork: What the hell are we supposed to do, ya moron? We’re all expelled. There’s nothing to fight for anymore.
D-Day: [to Bluto] Let it go. War’s over, man. Wormer dropped the big one.
Bluto: What? Over? Did you say “over”? Nothing is over until we decide it is! Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor? Hell no!
Otter: [to Boon] Germans?
Boon: Forget it, he’s rolling.
Bluto: And it ain’t over now. ‘Cause when the goin’ gets tough…
[thinks hard of something to say]
Bluto: The tough get goin’! Who’s with me? Let’s go!
[Bluto runs out, alone; then returns]
Bluto: What the f- – – happened to the Delta I used to know? Where’s the spirit? Where’s the guts, huh? This could be the greatest night of our lives, but you’re gonna let it be the worst. “Ooh, we’re afraid to go with you Bluto, we might get in trouble.” Well just kiss my ass from now on! Not me! I’m not gonna take this. Wormer, he’s a dead man! Marmalard, dead! Niedermeyer…
Otter: Dead! Bluto’s right. Psychotic… but absolutely right. We gotta take these bastards. Now we could do it with conventional weapons, but that could take years and cost millions of lives. No, I think we have to go all out. I think that this situation absolutely requires a really futile and stupid gesture be done on somebody’s part!
Bluto: We’re just the guys to do it.
D-Day: [stands up] Yeah, I agree. Let’s go get ’em.
Boon: Let’s do it.
Bluto: [shouting] “Let’s do it”!
[all of the Deltas stand up and run out with Bluto]
What really surprised the suits at IMS and the lynch mob of owners was the vitriol directed towards them after IMS gave Randy Bernard his walking papers.  As seen above, the Deltas never gave up after their frat house was closed.  In fact, the fans are very much like Bluto giving his impassioned speech about not giving up “when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor” – we may not know what really went on or what we are really talking about, but we damn sure know that something is not right.  IMS and the owners are discovering that IndyCar fans are passionate, and passion causes emotional responses.  Even stupid ones.
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[the Deltas have been expelled]
Bluto: Christ. Seven years of college down the drain. Might as well join the          f – – – ing Peace Corps.
Not only is Bluto a powerful speaker (when he finally speaks), he seems pretty self-aware.  In fact, he sounds like the many fans on Twitter, Speed.com, and the message boards washing their hands of IndyCar racing because of Randy Bernard’s dismissal, which long time fans see as just another example of what ails the sport.  The fans may come back, but the hard-core, long-time followers of the sport are tired of having their hearts broken.  They are emotionally spent.  Instead of the Peace Corps, they might as well just start following NASCAR or (gulp) F1.
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Otter: Point of parliamentary procedure!
Hoover: Don’t screw around, they’re serious this time!
Otter: Take it easy, I’m pre-law.
Boon: I thought you were pre-med.
Otter: What’s the difference?
[Addressing the room]
Otter: Ladies and gentlemen, I’ll be brief. The issue here is not whether we broke a few rules, or took a few liberties with our female party guests – we did.
[winks at Dean Wormer]
Otter: But you can’t hold a whole fraternity responsible for the behavior of a few, sick twisted individuals. For if you do, then shouldn’t we blame the whole fraternity system? And if the whole fraternity system is guilty, then isn’t this an indictment of our educational institutions in general? I put it to you, Greg – isn’t this an indictment of our entire American society? Well, you can do whatever you want to us, but we’re not going to sit here and listen to you badmouth the United States of America. Gentlemen!
[Leads the Deltas out of the hearing, all humming the Star-Spangled Banner]
I can never get through one of these movie comparisons without a connection to Robin Miller.  I really like the fact that he cares so deeply about the series.  I really like the fact that he uses his bully pulpit to shine a light on the prevarications and outright lies that the fans are expected to take as gospel.  I really like the fact that he will name names and demand accountability.  And I really like the fact that he sounds just like the IndyCar peeps I have coffee with on Saturday mornings.  His spelling, grammar, and syntax may not be perfect, but just like Otter in his speech defending the Deltas, his epistles are heartfelt, even if you don’t agree with his perspectives.  We need more bombastic speeches!
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D-Day: Hey, quit your blubberin’. When I get through with this baby you won’t even recognize it.
Otter: Flounder, you can’t spend your whole life worrying about your mistakes! You  f – – – ed up. You trusted us! Hey, make the best of it! Maybe we can help.
Flounder: [crying] That’s easy for you to say! What am I going to tell Fred?
Otter: I’ll tell you what. We’ll tell Fred you were doing a great job taking care of his car, but you parked it out back last night and this morning… it was gone. We report it as stolen to the police. D-Day takes care of the wreck. Your brother’s insurance company buys him a new car.
Flounder: Will that work?
Otter: Hey, it’s gotta work better than the truth.
Bluto: [thrusting six-pack into Flounder’s hands] My advice to you is to start drinking heavily.
Otter: Better listen to him, Flounder, he’s in pre-med.
D-Day: [firing up blow-torch] There you go now, just leave everything to me.
Poor Randy Bernard.  He came into the IndyCar “family” assuming people were all pulling in the same direction.  I’m sure he thought if he had good ideas and a pure heart, then the paddock would get behind him for the betterment of the series.  At least he would have the support of his “friends” on the board if he met resistance.  Oops.  Just like Flounder, he made the mistake of trusting his “friends.”  Just like Flounder’s “friends” reporting his car stolen, Bernard’s friends will just put out a little press release that will take care of everything.  “It’s gotta work better than the truth.”  Live and learn, Randy.
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[Dean Wormer’s plotting to get rid of Delta House]
Greg Marmalard: But Delta’s already on probation.
Dean Vernon Wormer: They are? Well, as of this moment, they’re on DOUBLE SECRET PROBATION!
Once again, poor Randy Bernard.  I’ve had difficulty deciding which character best represents him.  Is he Flounder trusting his friends, or is he Hoover, the president of Delta house?  Maybe Hoover is a better connection.  It fits if you assume that Dean Wormer is Jeff Belklus and that Greg Marmalard represents the owners going around Bernard to hamstring him.  He was on double secret probation and never even knew it.  Henry Kissinger once said “University politics are vicious precisely because the stakes are so small.”  As IndyCar’s value plummets, the politics will only get more vicious.
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Mayor Carmine De Pasto: If you want this year’s homecoming parade in my town, you have to pay for it.
Dean Vernon Wormer: Carmine, I don’t think it’s right that you should extort money from the college.
Mayor Carmine De Pasto: Look, these parades you throw are very expensive. You using my police, my sanitation people, and my Oldsmobiles free of charge. So, if you mention extortion again, I’ll have your legs broken.
Even though I’ve pointedly put Jeff Belklus at the epicenter of all that was wrong with the removal of Randy Bernard, there’s a power above him at IMS.  The Hulman-George family had the power to support Bernard or not.  They didn’t.  In the movie, the only one who outranked Dean Wormer was Mayor Carmine DePasto.  When Wormer complained about being extorted, DePasto let him know where the real power was.  It’s guaranteed that Jeff Belklus was acting on orders from the board.  They might not have broken his legs, but they could sure take them out from under him.  Power may corrupt, but it’s still power.  There are no clean hands in this IndyCar saga.
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Chip: [being spanked as part of Omega’s initiation] Thank you, sir! May I have another?
Chip, one of the Omega pledges, has to continue to accept the degradation that goes with being a member of the Omegas.  He not only has to endure a beating, he has to ask for it to continue.  That is how INDYCAR, with its current and most likely future management, expects the fans to behave.  The fans will want to join the IndyCar frat.  The fans will want to accept whatever it offers.  The fans will ask the leaders to continue to punish them.  This misguided perspective on the fans’ loyalty is what has driven, and continues to drive, fans away from the series.  INDYCAR, just like the Omegas, think their club is so special that its important to keep people out of it.  They forget that the majority of the fans are GDI’s (God Damn Independents).
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The real difference between Animal House and the recent events at INDYCAR is simple.  Animal House was intended to be a comedy.  INDYCAR is a serious business that has become a joke.
Posted in Humor, Opinions and tagged , , , , , , , ,
25 Oct 2012
1 Comment

The Young and the Clueless

I have in my possession the transcript of an actual phone call placed by an agent to a Hollywood television producer.  I only have the agent’s voice, so you have to imagine the producers responses on the other end.  Here it is.

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“Hey, Max! How’s it going?  This is Sid.  You keeping it in the short grass there at Bel-Air?  Really?  What’s your handicap now?  You sandbagger.  You’re a thief.  Hey, I have a property for you that you cannot pass up.  It’s a winner.  You can say goodbye to the Kardashians.  This will blow them out of the water.  Reality TV is over, just like the soaps are over.  I have the next big thing right here.  Are you ready?  It’s a reality soap.

“No, it’s nothing like Real Housewives.  No, it’s better than The Bachelor.  Well, there’s a peripheral connection to Dancing With the Stars.

“OK,  imagine a large family owned company.  I know, it sounds like Jabot Cosmetics on The Young and the Restless.  The company was built on a kitchen necessity and the founder bought a sport’s franchise/facility.  What’s that, Max?  No, that’s just the back story.  It gets good years later.  Well, there’s a shooting and rumors years ago, but that angle can be played later.

“It’s got everything, Max!   Just like a soap opera, there’s family intrigue, greed, stupidity, lies…did I mention stupidity?  And the best part is it’s all free.  We don’t have to hire actors.  That’s the reality part of it.”

“Here’s how it goes:  The scion of a wealthy corporate family that owns a major sports franchise becomes the CEO while marginalizing his three sisters.  I know, it sound like Jack Abbott, but remember, this is true.  Mom is still the Chairman of the Board and lets Sonny run the franchise the way he wants.  He builds a new facility and brings in another tenant, but he gets snookered by a much smarter guy that owns that league.  He also brings in another league, and they screw him, too.  Yeah, I know, he sounds like all the sucker money men we have in L.A.  A fool and his money.  But it gets better.  He is so upset that nobody respects him that he starts his own league, figuring that he can’t, you know, screw himself.  But the only people who like and respect him are his own family and the cronies and flunkies he pays to like him.  Right, kind of like Entourage without the sex and drugs.  Anyway, he keeps shooting himself in the foot.  He runs the league like a hobby and manages to spend a ton of money and piss off all kinds of people, but what does he care?  He has money on tap from his original franchise.  Then he finally screws the pooch.  He spends so much money on the league that his sisters, who are all on the board of directors, stage an insurrection.  They vote him out of power.  Actually, they tell him he can either run the league, a money loser, or the franchise, a cash cow.   He pouts and quits.  The sisters and mom then hire a rodeo cowboy to come in and wrangle the league, and they bring the corporate bean counter over from the original business to run the sports franchise.

“No, that’s not all.  Sonny wants the franchise and the league back, and with the aid of a sister and his mom, manages to get his cronies on the board.  But the family fights back and adds even more people to the board.  Then he starts plotting the demise of the cowboy so he can be back in charge again.  He somehow convinces his rich buddies to finance his proposed purchase of the league he used to own and could have had for free, but it all goes public and everybody is mad at everybody and pointing fingers.  We add the social media element of Twitter and bingo, everybody’s involved.  We can play this story out on TV and Twitter.  It’s never been done like that before.  TV is the soap opera and Twitter is the reality.

“What do you think, Max?  Series?  Feature film?  Mini-series?  Think HBO might be interested.  It’s kind of like a modern Game of Thrones or Boardwalk Empire, don’t you think?  This is gold, Max, gold!

“What do you mean it seems too far-fetched?  This is Hollywood.  Nothing has to make sense.  If people believed Nightrider, they’ll believe anything.

“Not interested, huh?  I’m telling you, Max, the reality soap Indy is the next Survivor.  Get on board now or you’ll hate yourself later.  I mean, you passed on the racing snail, didn’t you.  It’s going to be a monster, too.” 

——————–

That’s all I managed to get.  If my sources turn up anything else, you’ll be the first to know.

Posted in Humor and tagged , , , , , ,
15 Oct 2012
1 Comment

The end is near…or not

Are the Mayans here yet?  Will December bring tumult, chaos, and the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse or just another Y2K?  Will our alien overlords stop back in to see how we have managed to screw up the world, or will the end of the year pass as every other year has passed in recorded history with nothing much changing?  IndyCar fans really don’t need the Mayan calendar to tell them the world is ending.  They will know the answer if Tony George and his minions regain control of IndyCar.

Is IndyCar paralleling the unrest in the rest of the world?  Many IndyCar fans equate the rise of one T. George from the dung heap of auto racing to possibly leading the series to the rise of the Antichrist foretold by Revelation and that Joe Nostradamus guy.  I think he is one of those call-in gambling touts.  Anyway, the teeth have been gnashing on Twitter and the message boards decrying the possibility.  Unless, of course, the fans happen to be of the oval persuasion, in which case they see George as the road to salvation…or at least the road back to Nazareth and Michigan International Speedway.  The fact that nobody is stepping up to risk promoting these events is lost on them.  Ovals are a blind faith thing to these proselytizers.  Holy war, indeed.

Be that as it may, it might be worth cogitating on how the Antichrist – I mean T. George – might come back into power.  I would like to believe the faithful who say that IndyCar is not for sale because the IMS Board of Directors said so.  The people on this board are above reproach, eh?  Saints, most likely.  Unless you are one to believe in mankind’s baser instincts.  The instincts that say everything has a price; that nothing is sacred.  Read the comments of Jeff Belskus, president and CEO of Hulman and Company, closely.  He said IndyCar is not for sale.  He said they plan to keep it because it gives them control over the series that feeds into the Indianapolis 500.  He said they did not solicit offers for the series.  At no time did he say that IMS would never sell the series.  Good business practices almost always allow for a door to be kept slightly ajar.  Word is that IndyCar lost $7 million last year.  That’s reason enough to sell, no matter what anyone says.  And if reports by the Sports Business Journal, leaked no doubt by the T. George minions, are true, then George has quite an elite set of backers.  According to published reports, Tony George’s apostles include Chip Ganassi, Roger Penske, Michael Andretti, Kevin Kalhoven, and Zak Brown, the CEO of Just Marketing, International.  The money-changers in the temple worked so well before, how can we imagine it would not work this time?  I think this time might be different.

The saint-in-sheep’s-clothing in this case may be Zak Brown.  He is a true marketing mover and shaker in F1.  Check out JMI website here for some insight.  Zak Brown does not need IndyCar, but IndyCar may need him.  In an Indianapolis Star interview, Brown was not coy about his interest in being involved in a future leadership position in F1.  He’s interested.  Not only is he a motorsports marketer, he is also a former racer.   He knows the business.  One of the owners major complaints with Randy Bernard has been that he doesn’t know racing.  Zak Brown does.  But why would Zak Brown want to be involved in IndyCar?  I think he’s sitting in the catbird seat here.  My guess is that Zak Brown would be the CEO of IndyCar with an ownership stake in the company.  IndyCar’s success would be the bona fides for his future aspirations in F1.  If he could make IndyCar a going concern, he could write his ticket in another series.  The board of directors, presumably chaired by Tony George, would be forced to give him everything he needs to be successful, including an ironclad contract.  The owners get someone who understands racing and their concerns, both competitively and financially.  The drivers get a former racer who understands their issues.  And the fans get a business run by a marketing professional who understands the sport and feels compelled to deliver the goods.  It sounds too good to be true, doesn’t it?

It probably is.  An old saying is a leopard can’t change its spots.  And that is the eventuality here.  The owners on the board would pressure Brown to give them a competitive advantage.  Tony George would find himself marginalized and very unhappy.  And Zak Brown would have a golden parachute that would allow him to float away from the internecine warfare that always engulfs this sport when it’s on the cusp of success.  And that’s the gospel according to New Track Record.

Posted in Humor, Opinions and tagged , , , , ,
04 Oct 2012
3 Comments

Enter Yosemite Sam

My youth was measured out in Saturday morning TV shows.  It was a time before cable television and 24-hour channels that show nothing but food, sports, fashion, gardening, and cartoons.  Delayed gratification was the norm not the exception.  Things happened when they happened, and there was a good chance you had no idea of the time-table for any event.  If you wanted to see your favorite cartoon, you had to wait until Saturday morning.  And that’s not all bad.  It meant you had other things to do until that time.  And wait I did for the greatest cartoons of all time: the Warner Brothers productions of Looney Tunes and Merrie Melodies directed by Chuck Jones and Friz Freleng of the the 1950’s and 60’s.  After Randy Bernard presented the new schedule on Speed with the ensuing spewage of opinions in response, after Pete Pistone at MRN suggested that IndyCar do everyone a favor and die, and after the Sports Business Journal dredged the old rumor of a takeover bid, I just had to get my mind right by watching some old cartoons.  I was sure Bugs Bunny, Wile E. Coyote, Daffy Duck, and Foghorn Leghorn could take my mind off the never-ending drama of IndyCar.  I was wrong.  As I watched, the cartoon characters morphed into the players in the incessant internecine battle that is IndyCar.  So here they are folks, your Looney Tunes IndyCar comparisons.  And has the name Looney Tunes ever been more apropos than it is here?  To put you in the mood, here’s the song and dance introduction to the Bugs Bunny Show.  You’re welcome.

Yosemite Sam – Old Yosemite Sam is always after Bugs Bunny and just can’t seem to get out of his own way.  His plans always backfire on him.  Yosemite Sam is IndyCar.  He makes a lot of noise but always ends up shooting himself in the foot.  That’s IndyCar right now.  Sam just knows he’s the smartest, best-looking, and most desirable person on the planet, but no one else will believe him.  Bugs eludes him, just like the ratings and respect elude IndyCar.  Just like IndyCar with the “fastest and most versatile drivers in the world,” nobody seems to pay attention when Sam says he’s “the roughinest, toughinest, rootinest, tootinest, bobtailed wildcat north, south, east or west of the Pecos!”  The big difference here is Sam is just bragging.  IndyCar can back it up.

Foghorn Leghorn – Good old Foghorn with his homespun insults and country philosophy always makes me smile.  As the big daddy rooster in the barnyard, he sets the rules and enforces them.  He punishes the Barnyard Dawg with impunity and offers guidance to Henery Hawk and Miss Prissy’s son Egghead, Jr, not always with the intended consequences.  The connection is obvious.  Foghorn Leghorn is Beaux Barfield laying down the law to the Indy paddock.  Some of you may remember his Twitter  profile before he changed it reading “If it has wheels I’ll ride it, drive it, fix it, or f— it up.”  Now THAT’S barnyard.  Foghorn is always complaining that people don’t listen to him or do what he says.  That’s just like Beaux talking at a drivers’ meeting.  Don’t believe me?  Just watch this clip and imagine Beaux telling it like it is about his drivers.

Bugs Bunny – Bugs is the coolest character there is; he’s unflappable.  Who’s the coolest character in IndyCar?  That would be James Hinchcliff.    Nothing bothers him.  He is media savvy and willing to cut up in public.  All he needs is a carrot in a cigarette case and to open every interview with “What’s up, doc?”  Just like Bugs, Hinch is one smooth customer.

Porky Pig – Chip Ganassi.  Need I explain it?

Daffy Duck – Daffy is full of hare-brained schemes.  He sees a situation and immediately makes it worse.  He tries and tries to be relevant, but just can’t quite pull it off.  Daffy is Robin Miller.  With that said, Robin Miller is one of the very few journalists who covers IndyCar full-time.  But just like Daffy, you never quite know what you are going to get.  Recently, Robin opined about the cult of negativity surrounding IndyCar.  Here’s a very quick, never-before-seen video of RM taking the negative people surrounding IndyCar to task.  Daffy Duck, indeed.

The Road Runner and Wile E. Coyote – Poor Wile E. Coyote.  He never eats.  His gaunt figure literally haunts these cartoons.  No matter what Acme anvils, Triple Strength Fortified Leg Muscle Vitamins, or Tornado Seeds he throws at the Road Runner, he just can’t win.  But give old Wile E. credit.  He keeps trying.  Isn’t it obvious?  Wile E. Coyote is Tony George.  He wants to put an end to Randy Bernard, but just can’t quite get it done.  The Acme Rocket Roller Skates just zoom him right off the cliff.  And Randy Bernard is just as obviously the Road Runner.  Every trick in Tony George’s book just can’t quite do him in.  He’s dodged all the boulders and earthquake pills – in the form of rumors, secret meetings, and innuendo – that Wile E. Tony can throw at him.  As long as he as he has feet under him, Road Runner Randy will just twinkle his toes, stick out his tongue, and say “Beep beep.”  The only difference is we know how the cartoon turns out every time.  I just hope our Indy Road Runner always survives the schemes of his cartoonish nemesis.

I’m sure I’m missing a few connections. I always do.  Please feel to point them out to me.  Until next time, I leave you with this.

Posted in Humor, Opinions and tagged , , , ,
12 Aug 2012
3 Comments

IndyCar’s Endless Summer

As the end of summer looms on the horizon, I have been listening to the band that has defined summer for me through the years.  That’s right, nothing says “summer” like America’s Band, The Beach Boys.  And wouldn’t you know it, it seems like their songs have something to say to IndyCar.  So get out that scratchy copy of Pet Sounds and drop the needle.  IndyCar’s Endless Summer is here, courtesy of your host with the most, New Track Record.

“Fun, Fun, Fun”  Really, did you think our trip through the summer could start anywhere except America’s playground for the rich, Nantucket?  In the song, our teenage girl is driving her daddy’s T-Bird when she should be doing something else.  Poor, privileged Jay Penske was standing on the sidewalk in one of America’s richest enclaves when he was accosted by a simple bartender for urinating in the street.  The horror.  All of IndyCar hopes he can recover from this tawdry display of the rabble trying to take a picture of the rich and famous answering the call of nature.  In today’s political climate, the rich should be pissing on the middle class with impunity.  Accountability is for the poor.  Of course, what makes this story delicious is that Jay Penske owns the gossip website hollywoodlife.com, which specializes in covering the sordid affairs of the rich and famous.  Funny, I could find nothing about him on the website.  It seems rival gossip site TMZ has no such qualms.  Go here to see their article.

“All Summer Long”  The boys sing about how wonderful summer is with all the items that define the season.  One line sings about wearing “T-shirts, cut-offs, and a pair of thongs” all summer long.  Wait a minute.  I think a definition may have changed over the years.  These are thongs you wear on your feet.  In any case, it must have been nice to have the things you love all summer long.  As we go dark in IndyCar for 20 days or so, the die-hard IndyCar fans wait restlessly while the casual fan finds something else to do.  I understand that China was scheduled in there, but who was going to watch that race, anyway.  The fact is that IndyCar is over before summer ends.  We need to race all summer long.

“Wouldn’t It Be Nice”  Ah, this one takes me back to a time when what you wanted – in this song’s case, sex – was something for which you were willing to wait, although not necessarily happily.  In IndyCar, many folks just aren’t willing to wait.  Owners want a change in IndyCar management.  Tony George wants control back.  Promoters want a better deal.  The paddock wants cheaper parts.  Fans want more ovals, unless they want more road courses.  Sponsors want better ratings.  China wants a beer festival.  Wouldn’t it be nice if everyone was willing to wait and work through the issues together.  The fragmentation of all the constituencies of IndyCar is part of the dysfunction of this particular racing family.  In the song, you know the kids are going to “get together” at some time.  I’m not so sure about IndyCar.

“Good Vibrations”  All is not gloom and doom, though.  There are good vibrations all through IndyCar.  In fact, IndyCar is “giving me excitations.”  The car count is staying up and the racing is great!  Cars are passing each other on every track (except Detroit).  The series championship is still undecided.  Did I mention the racing is great?  The problem seems to be that nobody knows about it.  The monolith of NASCAR dominates the news with its TV partners, especially ESPN.  Still, the product on the track is the best in America, or maybe the world, right now.  Hopefully, these good vibrations will continue and not be an indication of a wheel getting ready to fall off.

“Be True To Your School”  The concept of loyalty to your school is the theme of this song.  And I agree with it.  At the risk of being called a cheerleader (and I don’t even own pom-poms), I think fans should support the series, the sponsors, the events, and the networks.  They also can, and should, be critical of what they don’t like.  But they should also defend the series, at least in general terms.  I would rather have my critics inside the tent pissing out, than outside the tent pissing in.  Right now, IndyCar can use more people in the tent.  And I’m not sure where I want Jay Penske; I just know he’s going to be pissing somewhere.

“God Only Knows”  Sometimes we don’t take the time to show our appreciation for those things that are meaningful to us.  This song says “God only knows what I’d do without you.”  It’s good to be self-aware.  A little self-awareness might be good for all of IndyCar, fans included.  The Indianapolis 500 will always be there, but no such guarantee exists for IndyCar (remember USAC and CART).  If the series fails – and it can – then there might not be a white knight with deep pockets to pick up the pieces.  It might just be a NASCAR knight with an indeterminate color of armor.  If people think IndyCar is a niche sport now, wait until the series is taken over by an organization that views it as competition for its primary business.  It happens in the real world all the time.  Not trying to be all Mayan-end-of-the-world here, but this threat may exist.  God only knows.

“Don’t Worry Baby”  The Pollyanna choir keeps telling me how good everything is.  And the racing is good.  The propaganda of the series and its minions say that TV ratings don’t matter.  They do.  Just ask any sponsor.  The bottom-liners at every business want to calculate the ROI (return on investment).  Right now, IndyCar is iffy.  When your series is handing out Leader’s Circle money to Jay Penske based on his promise of advertising impressions, then we better be singing “Worry Baby.”  Everyone knows he’s only going to piss it away.

“I Get Around”  Whatever else you can say about Randy Bernard, he works.  He is on the road courting promoters, engine builders, sponsors, and the media.  IndyCar is lucky to have him.  It was recently announced that Randy Bernard may be getting ready to ink NOLA Motorsports Park in Louisiana.  Check out the link to see this very interesting layout.  At a time when tracks are trying to negotiate sweetheart deals, if they want to deal at all, then it’s absolutely imperative that IndyCar goes racing where someone wants it to race.  So where y’at, NOLA Motorsports Park.  I hear it’s nice south of I-10 in the spring.

My recommendation?  Roll down the car windows, cruise your local root beer stand, crank up The Beach Boy’s Endless Summer, and pretend that you’re still that too-cool-for-school kid you were – or wanted to be – when you were in high school.  That summer in our mind never needs to end.

Posted in Humor, Opinions and tagged , , , , , , , , ,
28 Jul 2012
2 Comments

Super Weekend – Did IMS Really Lose Her Virtue: A Mother’s Story

The purists at Indianapolis Motor Speedway shake their gray heads and mutter to themselves whenever the topic of other series racing at the stately matron at 16th and Georgetown comes up.  The purists, like the children of a widow, want their wealthy and popular mother to act her age.  They see the Indianapolis 500 as their father, whose sainted memory should be forever put on a pedestal, so his adoring family – presumably dressed in frock coats, vests, and cravats – can genuflect at his spatted feet.  The future?  Godfrey Daniels, my good man, we here in Indianapolis live firmly in the past.  They believe Mother IMS should stay home and entertain her old friends at afternoon tea.  Well, guess what?  Mother snuck out the back door while they were trying to decide what was best for her.

And luckily for racing fans she did.  The old gal refused to be put out to pasture because others knew what was best for her.  She took off those gray rags and those hideously sensible black shoes and put on leopard print stretch pants, stiletto heels, and the brightest red lipstick she could find.  But you know how people talk.  Mama Indy had some, how do we politely say it, “gentlemen callers.”  The first was that France boy from down south.  He wooed her with promises of more money and prestige, even though he was what we call nouveau riche.  His family didn’t have the right connections, but he was loaded.  And that money would come in handy as a family rift with the Champ Car side of the family was on the horizon.  So Mother Indy hooked up.  And what’s wrong with that?  After him, she took up with that Bernie boy from England, and that caused quite a stir because she had to build him a new place on the family compound.  And then she had the audacity to run around with motorcyclists.  The purist family was aghast.  But she wasn’t done.  She brought in a support series for the man from the South, and she started keeping company with some young college types that call themselves “gentlemen drivers.”  Her purist family could hardly show their faces in public anymore.  How could their mother treat them this way.  Did she have no shame?

The simple answer is that shame, virtue, modesty, and tradition have nothing to do with what the Indianapolis Motor Speedway has done since 1994, when it hosted the first Brickyard 400. It has done what any business is supposed to do for its owners: make money.  And why is that a crime?  The purists say that the tradition of the Indianapolis 500 is paramount; there should be one race only.  Carl Fisher, the architect of the Indianapolis Motor Speedway, ran a series of events, including ones for motorcycles and balloons, and his first races put the cars in classes, very much like the support series for Formula 1 and the Rolex and Continental Tire Series.

Does the old lady look lonely when only 50 thousand of her friends show up for a party that can seat 250,000?  Absolutely.  Should perception be the deciding issue on hosting these events?  Absolutely not.  The bottom line for hosting an event should be the bottom line.  If it make financial sense to host a race, then host it.  Fenway Park is Fenway Park.  They play baseball, hockey, and host concerts there.  It’s the same for Wrigley Field.  I’m pretty sure the Kentucky Derby at Churchill Downs is not the only time the horses run in Louisville.  The Derby first ran in 1875 and the traditions (including mint juleps and ugly hats) seem to hold up pretty well with other events running on the same track.  Tradition can survive change.  It has to.

So the next time a new suitor comes knocking on Aunt Indy’s door, don’t purse your lips, look over the top of your glasses, and cluck a tsk, tsk.  Give her a big grin and shout “You go, girl!”  Tradition be damned.  Have fun.

Posted in Humor, Opinions and tagged , , , , , , , , , ,
26 Jul 2012
5 Comments

Stranger in a Strange Land

Will all due apologies to science fiction writer Robert Heinlein and his seminal book Stranger in a Strange Land [1], that title sums up how I feel about being in the Social Media Garage for the Super Weekend.  First and foremost, I am an open-wheel fan.  Something about IndyCars, sprints, midgets, F1 and other open-wheel formulas just does it for me.  Don’t get me wrong, though.  I am a racing fan.  I enjoy the NASCAR series, even though the recent iterations of the Sprint Cup seem somewhat less than dynamic.  I know, I’m sure if someone took the time to tutor me in the esoterica of Sprint Cup aerodynamics, pit stops, and strategy then I would come to the light, drink the Kool Aid, and don a wardrobe of Tony Stewart shirts and hats.  It just hasn’t happened so far.

That begs the question of what the hell I’m doing in the NASCAR Super Weekend Social Media Garage.  Basically, I am loud, opinionated, and willing to embarrass myself in public.  I am sure IMS mentioned how important that is when they recruited the other social media types for the weekend.  I am still figuring out my persona for the weekend.  The fact is, I’m an Indianapolis Motor Speedway guy.  I know its history, its cultural meaning, and the good places to eat and drink in the area: an IMS idiot savant, so to speak.  I am offering my services to any blogger/social media expert/passerby who wants to talk Indy.  I might even be willing to listen to other opinions about racing.  But don’t count on it.

The reality is that fenders are OK with me.  I spent last Friday and Saturday at Anderson Speedway, a quarter-mile high-banked asphalt track watching three different series of stock cars (JEGS Crate Late Models, McGunegill Engine Performance Late Models, and the ARCA CRA Super Series in the Stoops Freightliner-Quality Trailer Redbud 300) race and, I had a blast.  Support your local grass roots racing by attending the show at your local track.  And the tenderloins were as big as hubcaps.  Don’t believe me?  Check it out.  That’s a full size plate.


That’s the kind of information I bring to the Super Weekend Social Media Garage.  It’s just another service provided to fans here at New Track Record.

The truth is I really like the NASCAR drivers who wheeled midgets and sprints as their paths to the big time.  I’m a fan of Tony Stewart, Jeff Gordon, and all the others who know what it means when they see a t-shirt that says “Slide or Be Slid.”  Even though I’m a stranger who will be attending my first NASCAR race after being in the crowd for 44 Indy 500’s, I don’t really think it will be that strange a land.  It’s still Indy.

See you in the Social Media Garage.  I will try to send out a lie post or two every day.  You can also follow my ramblings on Twitter @NewTrackRecord.

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1.  Want to know more about Robert Heinlein?  This link takes you to the Heinlein Society site.  Don’t worry.  He’s no L. Ron Hubbard, and no pseudoscientific religion has formed around him.  I doubt Tom Cruise or John Travolta have ever read his stuff.  I do love his philosophies, though.  I recommend you read Time Enough for Love.  http://www.heinleinsociety.org/rah/index.htm

Posted in Humor, Opinions and tagged , , , , , , , , ,
29 Apr 2012
1 Comment

New Track Record’s Ten Worthless Opinions – Sao Paulo Indy 300

What comes to mind when you think of Brazil?  Carnival?  Samba?  Nude beaches?  Crime?  I assume your answer is “yes” to all of those.  Another answer is auto racing.  Brazilians love fast cars.  It’s quicker to get to the nude beaches that way.  Or away from kidnappers.  But I jest.  I have formulated some totally worthless opinions about this week’s race in Brazil.

1.  How can you not love Bitchin’ Bob Jenkins.  For all of his mistakes ( confusing Brazil with Canada TWICE, starting the broadcast by misstating how long until the start,  miscounting the number of Brazilians in the race, and his usual assortment of using the wrong name for people), he is totally self-aware.  He knows he makes the mistakes and takes the ribbing of his booth cohorts with grace and good humor.  I had the opportunity to do TV color commentary for the Indiana state high school softball championships, and I can tell you it is the hardest, most humbling thing I have ever done.  Bob is the guy in the booth that must keep the focus on the race while watching a foreign broadcast from a studio in America.  I liked that he disclaimed the fact a number of times.  Even as I criticize, I realize we are lucky to have a guy like Bob Jenkins in the booth.  He’s sincere and honest, and that goes a long way with me.

2.  Does anyone else have a love-hate relationship with IndyCar 36?  I love that fact that NBC Sports is publicizing the drivers, but find myself being put to sleep by the narrative.  In my WO (worthless opinion), I would like to see more controversy and conflict.  The drivers are so politically aware.  We need some A.J. injected into the story.  Still, the meaning of Long Beach to Ryan Hunter-Reay and his wife was touching.  Maybe I’m not the demographic they are looking to entertain.

3.  Does anyone else find double file restarts exciting when they are done correctly?  True, the tight first turn in Brazil led to some, as Twitter aptly suggested, monkey/football romance.  But aside from that, I find myself leaning forward on restarts.  That’s good, right?  This has been a positive change.

4.  Speaking of positive changes, Beaux Barfield has been one.  After each accident, we were informed of an investigation and were informed (as well as TV, Brazil, Bob Jenkins, and technology allowed) of the outcome.  The rules seem clear to the drivers and the penalties seem fair and impartially enforced.  Unless you’re Sarah Fisher at Long Beach.  Speaking of which, the prerace had a moment of racing comedy as Kevin Lee questioned Dario Franchitti and referenced his contact with Josef Newgarden in Long Beach.  Tricky, Kevin, tricky.  Dario did not bite on the bait and continued to be blissfully unaware of “feeling” contact, Sarah Fisher’s sidepod evidence to the contrary.  I can only imagine Dario watching every video of the wreck and having a big grin spread over his face as he realized that no evidence existed that proved he punted Newgarden.  Plausible deniability, baby.

5.  Robin Miller was a ghost in the broadcast, which seemed to please some on Twitter.  I missed seeing what new way he could come up with to totally screw up the grid run.  I was hoping NBC Sports would do a hologram like they had of Tupac at the Coachella Festival.  A digital Robin Miller might not be so out of breath during his interviews.  If you can’t do a digital Miller, then at least give him a Segway.

6.  NBC sports, here’s my WO on your broadcast:  just because you have a great segment in the can doesn’t mean you cut away from the race to show it.  How the cam locks on the nose and tail assemblies work is cool information.  I like it.  But how about a side-by-side?

7.  Turbo wars!  You can expect the following press release from Roger Penske:

Since the turbo change resulted in an equalizing of the Chevy and Honda motors, it is COMPLETELY UNFAIR.  Fairness only exists when the equipment used by Penske Racing is superior.  HOW CAN YOU PEOPLE NOT SEE THAT? 

8.  Will Power is an absolute beast.  In all seriousness, he is in a class of one.  Same car, same aero, same motor, different result.

9.  And how about the other racing?  Takuma Sato showed that he really can drive.  What a dive bomb in turn 1 at the end of the race.  How about Ed Carpenter’s day?  His late spin, assisted by Ana Beatriz, kept him out of a possible top ten finish.  His improvement on road/street courses is vital to the success of his program.  It should be noted that this very fast circuit is probably better suited to his emerging road/street course skills than slower venues.  In any case, a nice day for Ed and Fuzzy’s Premium Vodka.  As much as I rag on Dario Franchitti for his it’s-not-my-fault responses to contact initiated by him, he really can drive a race car.  After spinning and being airborne, he steers it back to fifth place.

10.  Twitter responses were interesting today.  It seems that people are made uncomfortable by commercials showing people who have lost limbs, required surgery, or have become incapacitated because of smoking.  I think that’s the idea.  And since they pay for the commercial time no one else wants to buy, I think we will see more of them.  People also seem slightly entertained by the Honda commercial featuring the “Hoodie Ninja” song by MC Chris.  People, have you ever listened to the lyrics of this song?  I’m surprised that Honda uses a song that refers to…well, refers to so many things that probably don’t need to be in a commercial for Honda.[1] You REALLY need to check out the footnote to listen to the song and read the lyrics.

Another set of worthless opinions offered for your perusal.  Don’t forget to check out the “Indy Tenderloin Tour” post coming up later this week.  A good breaded tenderloin is never worthless.

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1.  Entertain yourself with this link that has the music and lyrics to “Hoodie Ninja” bu MC Chris. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z8aMumvh9eI

Posted in 10 Worthless Opinions, Humor, Opinions, Uncategorized and tagged , ,
17 Feb 2012
4 Comments

Can you smell what IndyCar is cookin’?

I attended the State of IndyCar at the Hilbert Circle Theatre in Indianapolis last Monday.  It’s a very staid, old-school opera house, and the car out front added a certain “wow” factor to the proceedings.  The welcome to the hoi polloi (of which I am a card carrying member) was decidedly less than enthusiastic.  The teams, sponsors, and other well-heeled types loitered in the lobby sipping wine while the rabble – sorry, I mean the fans – were herded – again, my apologies, I mean were directed – to the balcony seating.  And not just any balcony seats, mind you, but the upper balcony.  The lower balcony seats were reserved VIP seating for fan club chumps – once again, sorry, I mean to say fan club members – who paid to have a better bad view.  It was exactly what I expected.

Let me be honest.  I am a fan first and foremost.  I enjoy inflicting my opinions on others as a blogger, but that is not my raison d’etre.  I like racing, and I am happy IndyCar let the general public see behind the curtain a little bit.  Gracias, amigos.  You didn’t try to see how the event fit with your business plan.  You didn’t try to monetize it.  Other than parking and dinner downtown, it was a freebie.  But the truth is we were there as seat fillers, as extras on a movie set.  Our attendance made the special people feel more special.  Would it have killed you to have a few signed pictures to hand out?  How about a sponsor keychain or two?  Heck, you could just put brochures and sponsor stickers in a bag, and we would have wet ourselves.  Yes, I know, it was FREE, but I am reminded of the immortal words of Carl Spackler in Caddyshack: “ ‘Hey, Lama, hey, how about a little something, you know, for the effort, you know.’ And he says, ‘Oh, uh, there won’t be any money, but when you die, on your deathbed, you will receive total consciousness.’ So I got that goin’ for me, which is nice.” [1] Thanks, IndyCar. I guess just being allowed to mingle with the upper crust was our reward.  It’s nice to know we have something going for us.  Which is nice.

But that’s enough about my very minor negative observation.  The lights went down, the smoke machines purred, and the show started.  Trophies were awarded in multiple categories. The champion was introduced.  The “Fearsome Five” were trotted out as the ones chasing the champion this year.  Here came the American drivers, ready to wrap themselves in the flag and win one for Uncle Sam. Something was starting to look familiar.  I had seen this all before somewhere.  And then I knew.  This marketing strategy was taken from one of the most successful sports entertainment brands of all time, a brand that fills arenas weekly and whose big PPV’s rake in millions of dollars.  IndyCar is becoming the WWE.  Randy Bernard, please let me introduce you to Vince McMahon.

It’s all there.  In the WWE you have multiple championships and belts.  RAW has the WWE Championship and SmackDown has the World Heavyweight Championship.  IndyCar has the AJ Foyt IndyCar Oval Championship and the Mario Andretti IndyCar Road Championship.  In fact, I think a championship belt is way cooler than a trophy. Can’t you see Scott Dixon and Will Power walking through Gasoline Alley at Indy with those big honking belts around their waists?  Those two guys would rock it just like C.M. Punk and John Cena.  They would just need a little intro music to spice things up. The  WWE really knows how to brand and sell.  I’m glad IndyCar is looking to them as a model.

WWE has a monster event called WrestleMania that parallels the Indy 500.  We’ll call this one a wash.  This is WWE’s big payday, but Indy has a little more cachet.  Maybe IndyCar can teach the WWE something about brand loyalty since it has been around a little longer.  If you stop and think about it, the two brands are probably going after the same crowd in Turn 3 and on Carb Day.  I’m guessing that Lynyrd Skynyrd appeals to the same fans, too.  Looks like a shift in demographics to me.  Let me be the first to start the rumor: IndyCar has partnered with WWE for its marketing.  Before you dismiss this as impossible, let me say two words: Gene Simmons.

Do you need more proof that IndyCar is turning into the WWE?  Something the WWE has always been able to do is create controversy and adversaries.  They are famous for the “worked shoot.” [2]  In wrestling something “worked” looks real but is really just part of the show, like the conflicts between the various stables of wrestlers.  A “shoot” is something unscripted and real that happens.  A worked shoot is something scripted that is made to look unscripted.  In other words, confuse the fans; blur the line between real and fake.  IndyCar did a a bang-up job with its worked shoot when they brought the Fearsome Five onto the stage.  It was like a Steel Cage Death Match.  These five drivers – Ryan Briscoe, Scott Dixon, Tony Kanaan, Will Power, and Oriol Servia – became a stable of “faces” trying to bring down the prima donna “heel.”  For those of you not familiar with wrestling argot, a face is a good guy and and a heel is a bad guy.  These roles often flip, with wrestlers changing from face to heel in a week’s time.  The IndyCar brain trust has decided that for now, Dario Franchitti is a heel.  We need to pull for the faces that are chasing him.  At least pull for them until one of the faces flips and becomes a heel.  I assume this will happen at St. Pete when one of the drivers punts somebody and acts like it wasn’t his fault.  You have to change the narrative if you want to keep the fans interested.  Another lesson learned.

If all of that doesn’t prove that the WWE is pulling the strings for IndyCar, then this should: IndyCar had all the American drivers come out on stage to challenge the foreigners.  Holy jingoism, Batman!  Talk about creating something out of nothing.  The drivers looked embarrassed to be out there.  They don’t want to win for America; they want to win for themselves.  Worked shoot, indeed.  Wrestling has always created foreign heels: the Iron Sheik, Nikolai Volkoff, and Yokozuna are some recent examples.  These are people we love to hate.  IndyCar has ripped this page right out of the WWE business plan.  IndyCar is creating a new storyline that plays right into the xenophobic hysteria of the far right.  So far, IndyCar is following this worked shoot to the letter.

The final bit of evidence was Randy Bernard’s rant at the end of the show. His script was a perfect take on WWE boss Vince McMahon standing at center ring with a microphone putting down the law.[3]  He told the crowd that he had a job, the series had a great year financially, the drivers had a new car, and the schedule was getting better.  Now, that was not a worked shoot.  And if it was, he had me fooled.  As the Rock, a staple of the WWE for years would say: “Can you smell what IndyCar is cookin’?”  And if you don’t like it, then Marco Andretti will rip off your arm and beat you with the wet end. [4]

1.   For your viewing pleasure, here’s Bill Murray doing Carl Spackler.  True story:  The other actor in the scene did not know that Murray was going to improvise the pitchfork.  Check him out; you can see the fear in his eyes. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8x-nQ-vPw5k

2.  Need a wrestling vocabulary lesson?  Here’s a link to all things WWE.  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Glossary_of_professional_wrestling_terms

3.  Here’s a video of Vince McMahon being a heel.  Classic.  Is this Randy Bernard’s model?  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vd-ZfcYFbJk

4.  This a quote from my all time favorite wrestler, Dick the Bruiser.

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