Indy still greatest spectacle in racing

The Indianapolis 500 sneaked up on me this year, like Al Unser gaining on A.J. Foyt (or Dario Franchitti against Helio Castroneves) on the final lap at the Brickyard.

The 500-mile race, as it's called, appeals to someone whose only brush with the sport is a Saturday-night visit to a Pike County stock-car track (remember Kirby Speedway?) that long ago shuttered its gates. Boredom set in quickly, which along with the incessant noise guaranteed that I wouldn't return.

A college friend with ties to Indiana keeps inviting me to the 500, and I keep declining. I have no desire to cover the race except perhaps as a columnist, guessing that after three or four hours in that cacophony of sound I would be deaf as Beethoven.

Others feel differently, of course, making the Indy 500 a slice of Americana to be treasured from one generation to the next like the Kentucky Derby and the Texas-Oklahoma football game. The Indianapolis Motor Speedway does not disclose official attendance, but permanent seating capacity is more than 250,000 -- not to mention the infield. The Kentucky Derby, down Intersate 65 in Louisville, is older but the Indy 500 is bigger.

It might help if I knew anything about the drivers. It took a Google search to learn the winner of last year's race (Ryan Hunter-Reay, the first American-born champion in eight years). I'm sure that Jack Arute or Dr. Jerry Punch interviewed the winner between his gulps of milk (whole, 2 percent or skim) on another flawless performance by ABC, which has televised the race live in its entirety since 1986 (Bobby Rahal winning).

The storylines from my youth and early adulthood are part of 500 history, many of them concerning A.J. Foyt in the No. 14 car. Foyt was the first-four time Indy winner, joined by Al Unser and later by Rick Mears. Foyt won his first 500 (1961) when leader Eddie Sachs pitted late with a bad tire, his second (1964) after the popular Sachs and Dave MacDonald were killed in a fiery crash on the second lap. Foyt won his third (1967) after leader Parnelli Jones broke down with three laps to go in a turbine car and his fourth (1977) when no one was looking.

Foyt had the Indy rabbit's foot, or something, that Mario Andretti kept misplacing.

Andretti -- as different from Foyt as their hometowns, Nazareth, Pa., and Houston -- appeared destined to break all the records when he won the 1969 race in Andy Granatelli's STP-powered car. How could anyone know that that would be Mario's only bottle of milk at the Speedway? More than once he appeared to have the best car, only to have something happen. One remembers Al Unser saying after a race he won, "Mario had us covered all day."

The so-called Andretti jinx has been handed down. Michael Andretti, dripping in charisma like his father, holds the record for most laps led (431) in the 500 without winning the race. Marco Andretti, Michael's son and Mario's grandson, finished second in 2006 in the second-closest finish in Indy history.

Consider that three members of the Unser family (brothers Big Al and Bobby -- plus Al Junior, my mom's favorite driver) have won the race nine times. Big Al tied Foyt's record of four wins in 1987 after starting the month without a car. Bobby was awarded the 1981 victory in October after placed second because of an illegal pass in the pit area. The driver awarded the win who then had it snatched away? Mario Andretti. Comparing auto racing to Massachusetts politics, the Unsers were Kennedys to the Andrettis' Lodges.

Mears, the one guy I'd want driving at Indy if the fate of the free world were at stake, finished 16 hundredths of a second behind Gordon Johncock in 1982, the closest 500. Mears' fourth Indy win, tying A.J. and Big Al, came in 1988, four years before his unexpected retirement at 41.

The 500 means many things to many people. For some, it's the late Tony Hulman, president of the speedway, commanding the gentlemen (the field sometimes including a lady) to "start your engines." For others, it's Jim Nabors, TV's Gomer Pyle, singing "Back Home in Indiana."

Or the pace car bringing the field of 33 around turn four into the long home stretch and awaiting the green flag for what the late Sid Collins, longtime radio voice of the 500, called "the greatest spectacle in racing."

For a kid whose family sold automobiles, the 500 -- formerly on Memorial Day -- meant the unofficial start of summer. For a young sports writer, Indy brought excitement after racing of another sort in the Kentucky Derby and Preakness. For someone who has seen his early heroes age if not die, the fourth Sunday in May remains a special date on the sports calendar, even if it did sneak up on me this year.

Sports on 05/24/2015

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