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2016 Indy 500 Turn 3 Diary

5:10 AM

As we roll out into the darkness, the family is restive¹.  There are murmurs of discontent from the younger element about arising at 4:00 AM.  My explanation about heeding IMS president J. Douglas Boles warnings about traffic and long lines at the gates fall on increasingly militant ears regarding my tenure as high potentate of our annual pilgrimage.  I will keep an eye on the more vocal of the group.  My anxiety increases as we are already 10 minutes behind the scheduled time of departure.

5:37 AM

We arrive at our first rendezvous in the Meridian-Kessler neighborhood of Indianapolis.  After the perfunctory comfort stops, we pose for pre-dawn pictures.  I stay in the shadows, worried once again about lines, parking, and recalcitrant Yellow Shirts waiting at IMS.  Our caravan grows to three vehicles, again increasing my anxiety as images of stop lights and blissfully unaware family members causes digestive discomfort.

6:05 AM

We arrive on 30th Street via Moller Road and move briskly past the Coke Lot towards our parking in the North 40.  Parking tagless drivers are denied entry to the Coke Lot, resulting in hooting and jeering from the line of cars waiting to park.  Schadenfreude is strong in a race day crowd.  Better you than us, bub.  The traffic stops.  We wait moodily.

6:29 AM

We enter the North 40 parking lot, our lead car deftly maneuvering past a slow line and cutting in at the gate, both perplexing and irritating a yellow shirted whistle blower standing guard.  Score one for the proletariat.  We arrive at our parking spot.

6:56 AM

The mood darkens.  It seems that the celery salt for early morning Bloody Marys has been left behind.  Like true pioneers, we persevere.

7:00-9:00 AM

Breakfast, camaraderie, lies, and insults follow in succession.  A small contingent breaks from the alcohol induced early morning lethargy and enters the track for the 100th Running of the Indianapolis 500 presented by PennGrade Motor Oil.  I go along, acting as our all-knowing leader.  I imagine myself as Daniel Day-Lewis in Last of the Mohicans and mention this to the group.  My nephew says, “Last of the pains in the asses, more like it.” I take it as a compliment.

9:30-11:30 AM

I enter the NE Vista alone as my “family” eats tenderloins and ascend to Row NN Seat 1 in Section 27.  This is always a soothing moment.  I watch the parade of dignitaries and was truly impressed by the 33 museum cars that rolled by in review.  I imagined what the track looked like when it was full of those cars.  Pretty cool.

Pre-Race

One issue with the NE Vista is the disconnect with the action on the main straight.  While most fans see what is getting ready to happen, we mostly guess.  The upgrade in the sound system was noticed and appreciated.  The absence of the Florence Henderson’s warble was much appreciated.  Darrius Rucker’s version of “The Star-Spangled Banner” was completely acceptable and the fast movers in the flyover were on point.   “Back Home Again in Indiana” by Josh Kaufman and The Indianapolis Children’s Choir was as good as Jim Nabor’s ever was.  There, I said it.  Let that Indiana boy do it forever.  The Hulman family’s multi-generational “Start your engines!” command was a nice touch, covering up an increasingly awkward moment.  And balloons!

Race

As expected, the Hondas were wicked fast and passing was nonstop.  If we have to have spec racing, this is the spec racing to have.  A radio or scanner was needed to help keep the leaders straight.  The beautiful video screen is wonderful, as long as the information presented there is big enough to be seen.  It’s not.  The scroll at the top of the screen is impossible to see without binoculars.  Either increase the size of the scroll or find a new style.  This was very frustrating to everyone in our section without exception.  I suggest the leadership sit in my seat and try to see the screen.  If they do, they will make changes.  The win by a fuel-saving Alexander Rossi was met by a collective shrug of the shoulders, not because he was a rookie without IndyCar pedigree, but because his ascension to the top spot caught everyone by surprise, announcers and fans alike.  I memory serves, fan favorite Dario Franchitti won in similar fashion.  This was expert strategy, plain and simple.  If an earlier pit road incident had not taken out Andretti Autosport teammates Ryan Hunter-Reay and Townsend Bell, things may have been different.  Rossi is an American driver in an American series who won the crown jewel as a rookie.  That’s a good story.  He never put a wheel wrong all month. An 82 year old Florence Henderson, denied an opportunity to sing, found her way into Victory Lane to kiss the winner.  This is a rather dubious new tradition, but I can guarantee no other race has it.

Potpourri  

It seems the denizens of the NE Vista were remembered by their overlords this year.  Food tents and trucks were everywhere.  Potent potables were all around, including a very tasty Fuzzy’s lemonade.  It felt good to be part of the race again.  Of course, the NE Vista was denied its opportunity  to toast the winner with commemorative plastic bottles of milk.  So we cheered, milkless, but not altogether bereft like past races.  The Yellow Shirts were not in evidence as much as in the past.  In fact, there were very few along the walkway in the Vista, which allowed a veritable throng to stand next to the fence and revel in the speed, noise, and proximity of the cars.  Our exit down the back stairs, closed for the duration of the race, was fine until we stumbled across the carcasses of quite possibly two or three pigeons that were left on the landings of the stairs by a nameless predator.  Ugh.

5:23 Post Race

I once again lost the race pool to a mocking relative.  After food and more alcohol induced frivolity, we packed up our empty coolers and our sunburns and headed home.  Many kudos to the soul who somehow managed to part the cable that kept the inhabitants of the North 40 from cutting unassisted onto Hulman Boulevard.  It saved us at least an hour in line.  Muchos gracias, my unknown hermano borracho.

7:38

Arrived home, spent but happy, and settled onto the back porch to begin planning next year’s foray.  Maybe an earlier start is in order.

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¹ restive – unable to keep still or silent and becoming increasingly difficult to control, especially because of impatience, dissatisfaction, or boredom.

 

 

 

 

 

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B-listers, YouTube, and tradition at IMS

Who says there is no news coming out of the Verizon IndyCar Series?  A decision that could affect the Indianapolis 500 for years to come was a front page headline in a recent Indianapolis Star: “New track tradition – Straight No Chaser replaces Nabors on iconic song.”  Yep, the choice of a new voice, or voices in this case, to take the place of Jim Nabors singing “Back Home Again in Indiana” pushed important news to another page.  What this says about our society is another discussion, but what it says about the tradition of the Indy 500 is loud and clear.  It matters.

Oh, there will be haters on multiple issues.  Some IndyCar fans get all frothy over the fact that one race holds so much sway over the public’s perception of the series.  Their stance is that the 500 is just one more race on the schedule, and the PR it gets for things like who belts out a traditional song actually hurts the series and other venues and races.  I’m on the side of the cash cow splashing down in the ocean creating a rising tide that lifts all ships on this one.  I’m not quite sure how you make other races and venues more popular by making arguably the most well-known race in the world less popular.

Then there are the loyalists who recommended using a video of  Jim Nabors singing “Back Home Again in Indiana” in perpetuity, presumably because they thought the idea that a perennial B-list actor and singer was as good as it was ever going to get in Indianapolis.  Truthfully, Jim Nabors’ baritone and his second tier stature worked very well for the race.  There was no way he was ever going to be more important than the song or the tradition itself.  In fact, he had become a hipster’s ironic ideal.  Nabors was just schmaltzy enough to be cool.  He had a good run.

There were some interesting suggestions for the replacements  One was the Indianapolis Children’s Choir, who are top notch.  I just had this sinking feeling about some 10-year-old asking his or her choir director some very difficult questions about aberrant human behavior.  I even endorsed Mike Rowe of Dirty Jobs fame, a trained opera singer.  He fit the Jim Nabors B-list criteria of not now or ever being bigger than the song or the moment.  And he was a baritone, too!

Which brings us to the new choice, the a cappella group Straight No Chaser.  They were formed at Indiana University and became famous for a version of “The 12 Days of Christmas” that went viral on YouTube.  Now that’s mixing traditional with modern.  They are an inspired choice.  They went to IU.  They understand the importance of the song to the predominantly Hoosier crowd.  They get the tradition.  They are young.  They are cool.  I want to be churlish and find something to dislike, but they are really, really, good.  Take a look at them singing “Back Home Again in Indiana” at this YouTube link.

The fans watching on ABC will absolutely love them.  Let’s hope the video and audio upgrades work well out in the hinterlands of Turn 3 and the writhing humanity of the Snake Pit, too.  Of minor consideration is the fact that an a cappella group not only sings the songs, but they also make their own music with their voices.  This might leave the Purdue band, the accompaniment on this song for years, out of the picture.  I’m sure the Indiana University grads of the group will get some pleasure out of that.

So here’s to a long tenure and the beginning of new tradition.  Cars, drivers, fans, and facilities change.  The inevitability of time demands it.  Traditions like singing “Back Home Again in Indiana” are the sinews that keep us connected to the past and the future.  Thanks for the good news, IMS.  It was worth the wait.

 

 

 

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