COLUMN: Bricks rise, and bricks fall
How the Brickyard fell out of favor
INDIANAPOLIS – Once upon a time, Indianapolis Motor Speedway invited NASCAR to come play, and all was right with the world.
This Brickyard 400 will be the 17th. It’s never been won by anyone who wasn’t a damn fine driver. Fans call it boring, but it’s never been uneventful, not even on that notorious day of infamy in 2008 when Goodyear brought balloons and called them tires.
To this point, it could be that the Brickyard 400 has never recovered from that day in 2008 when the Tire Makers bombed Pearl Harbor.
The early races were all sellouts. In the late 1990s, NASCAR insiders took delight in the notion that their race had become bigger than what otherwise could be considered the most prestigious race in the world, the Indianapolis 500. It put The Speedway – that’s what it is here, The Speedway – in a sheepish situation: happy about NASCAR’s success but a tad insulted by the tone.
Empty seats started appearing before Infamy ’08, but last year when the green flag fell, it looked as if the race had started two hours early and they forgot to tell anybody.
Now it looks as if the crowd is going to be half what it was a decade ago, and that’s just too much to blame on the economy. When the Brickyard (then Allstate) 400 dissolved into 12-lap segments, this race fell into disfavor. Fans who once marveled at the spectacle started griping about the boredom.
The fans who saw that travesty should’ve gotten coupons or something. If not for tickets to the following year’s race, they should’ve gotten discount cards for Steak ‘n’ Shake … or the movies … or, oh, maybe, some tires.
In a sense, this is a great shame. Stock cars at Indianapolis do not skirmish in a manner akin to the dogfights of Talladega, but it’s breathtaking to watch the unwieldy beasts dive into those four distinct turns – Indy really has four defined turns, it honestly does! – and zoom below the apron, up against the wall, back down below the apron, back up against the wall, forever and ever, amen.
Righteous amen. Hymn of Invitation amen.
It’s impossible to half-watch this race, tuned in to nascar.com, tweeting incessantly, and be entertained. It’s not a reality show (yet).
But great deeds happen here. This is closer to baseball than football. No one can afford to miss a cutoff man or leave loose a lug nut. No one throws the long bomb at Indy.
Indy has become a simple pleasure in an age in which simplicity is so last century.
You may contact Monte Dutton at mdutton@gastongazette.com.
