SimHQ.com - Motorsports Zone - Preview: 2004 United States Grand Prix

The motor speedway at Indianapolis is well and truly one of the most famous racetracks in the world. As the cars cross the start/finish line at Indy, they cross a thin strip of bricks, remnants of the track’s former racing surface and the reason for the track’s nickname “the Brickyard.”

Unquestionably, Indianapolis is intertwined with motorsports history like few other racing venues in the world. Yet, how is it that this most historic of American tracks came to host the international Formula One circus? In order to understand how this famous oval circuit became home to cars dedicated to road racing only, you must first understand the turbulent history of the United States Grand Prix.

While the USGP may have spent much of its life as an orphan, it is clear that it had a happy childhood in upstate New York. For the glory years of Formula One in the 1960s, Watkins Glen was the host of the USGP. Situated amongst New York State’s Finger Lakes region, Watkins Glen, despite its remote location, was amongst the most popular circuits on the F1 calendar. It often carried the largest purse and the race was always well attended. In fact, Watkins Glen became bound up in F1 history almost as much as many other well-known circuits on the F1 calendar, and the race remained there until 1980.

Throughout the 1970s, speculation arose that the circuit, with its fast, flowing nature, was becoming a safety liability as the speed of F1 cars increased. Starting in 1968, downforce had arrived, and as aerodynamics improved, the speed of F1 cars increased. When drivers no longer needed to go opposite-locking on the throttle through corners to log a quick time, cornering speeds began to rise steadily, and, eventually, the Glen was no longer considered a safe venue for F1.

While it is hardly worth debating that there was a great deal of truth in doubting the safety of the Glen, it is difficult, if not impossible to believe that Watkins Glen was judged unsafe to the same standard as Monaco, which sees F1 cars blast through a tunnel at over 150 MPH (this year, that number is closer to 180 MPH). What is clear, however, is that Monaco, then as now, fairly drips with money and glamour –– apparently both in sufficient quantities to negate any legitimate concerns over the circuit’s suitability for hosting F1 cars. Watkins Glen, for all of its good qualities, simply hadn’t the cache to compete with other F1 glamour spots, and, ultimately, whether stated or not, the circuit’s safety issues were rendered secondary to the track’s remote, bucolic locale, lack of hotels, and hoards of drunken fans.

Thus, Watkins Glen was lifted from the path of the F1 circus and the USGP became an orphan. As with most orphans, the USGP found foster care a mixed bag of adequate homes and truly horrendous homes. Brief stays in Long Beach, California were certainly more than acceptable, but stints in Dallas, Detroit, and Las Vegas were to become, speaking most charitably, debacles. In Dallas, the one-off track literally disintegrated in the heat, in Detroit, the tight turns slowed speed merchants like Senna and Prost to near taxicab pace, and in Las Vegas, the flower of Formula One’s glorious history wilted in the harsh glow of unabashed avarice and consumerism––no mean feat in the age of Ecclestone.

And so, after several years without a Grand Prix on U.S. soil, the USGP’s Annie turned to American Motorsport’s Daddy Warbucks –– Tony George of the Indianapolis Motor Speedway, and a permanent home was found. Perhaps Indy proves as much as anything that for location on F1’s prestigious circuit of circuits, a facility need neither be inspired, nor inspiring, it needs only to serve its purpose ably and consistently. And if inspiration comes along with the package, so much the better. As it so happens, Indianapolis has indeed become a fine venue for F1 –– the track has world-class facilities; for the fans, the crews, and the drivers. The racing surface is well maintained; the name is suitably historic to match those other lofty names it accompanies on the calendar, like Silverstone, Monza, Spa, and Nurbergring; and the event is well supported financially. And the fans have come to witness the event, relatively speaking. After all, a trip to Indianapolis allows fans of motorsports to witness not only the piercing scream of V10 engines, but also a famed track synonymous with American open wheel racing.

But there is even greater reason why it is fitting that Formula One and Indy should become intertwined, for it was those rear-engined F1 cars that made the Great American Race as it is today. When Colin Chapman brought Jimmy Clark, Dan Gurney, and three Ford Fairlane V8-powered Lotus 29s to Indy in 1963, they were regarded as a curiosity. Rear-engined open-wheel racing cars? A.J. Foyt was even quoted as saying that he would never drive such a vehicle, derisively called “funny cars” by many in the paddock, calling the Cooper Climax brought to Indy by Jack Brabham in 1961 “and bunch of tubes held together with chicken wire.”

In 1965, when Jimmy Clark won at Indy in Colin Chapman’s Lotus 38, effectively leading from start to finish (and missing the Grand Prix of Monte Carlo for the privilege), there was an entirely other kind of curiosity brewing. Foyt had already stopped laughing and switched to a rear-engine “funny car” in 1964 (21 of the 61 entrants in the 1964 Indy 500 were rear-engined––and Clark hadn’t even won the race by that time). Soon, the entire field at the Indy 500 was filled with rear-engined cars and the roadsters had become obsolete –– permanently.

Further, more than a few of Formula One’s luminaries have competed in the Indy 500: of course Jimmy Clark and Graham Hill (both while still competing in F1, winning the race back-to-back in 1965 and 1966), Nigel Mansell (after leaving F1), Jacques Villeneuve (before coming the F1) and current stars Juan Pablo Montoya and Christiano Da Matta (both before arriving on the F1 scene). Moreover, lest we forget, in the age of Clark and Hill, the Indy 500 paid points toward the Formula One World Championship.

So perhaps Indy and F1 belong together at long last. And since they would appear to be destined to remain together, this is a good thing. Just last year, in almost every quantifiable respect, the USGP at Indianapolis decided the championship in Formula One in a race that was very much a crucible for the wet weather performance of those drivers piloting cars shod with Bridgestone intermediates (yes of course I mean Schumacher, you didn’t think I was talking about the Jordans, did you?) But that was last year, when Indy was run as the penultimate round of the F1 Championship. What is store this year, the race now being run in June, scant weeks after the Indy 500?

Running the race in June may well be an unknown quantity, but the same cannot be said for Scuderia Ferrari Marlboro. Qualifying on the third row of the grid in Canada, and making no on-track passes, Ross Braun and Michael Schumacher again played their own game of vehicular chess, opting for two stops instead of three, and winning the race with authority. Realizing that their closest competitors were likely to struggle with brake issues, the Scuderia concocted another of its brilliant race strategies, allowing Williams and BAR to lead early in favor of Ferrari leading late. And did brakes play the role perhaps Ferrari had anticipated? Consider that both Williams’ and Toyota’s race results were disqualified for each team violating FIA rules on either brake ducting or permissible pad materials.

So what of Indy circa 2004? Will there be yet another parade des voitures rouges? I wouldn’t bet against it.

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