Open Wheel
On Life Support
By Doug Kennedy

The pungent aroma of freshly cut grass, plump hot dogs smoldering over the metal grid of the charcoal grill, and the blooming of the lilacs. These were the sights and smells of Memorial Day weekend. And nothing went hand-in-hand with those more than the running of the "Greatest Spectacle in Racing"-the Indianapolis 500.

Pulling that transistor radio out, attaching the ear piece and tuning the oval dial to 1360 to listen to the call of the race by Sid Collins, Howdy Bell and others. That was Memorial Day for millions of race fans. Open wheel racing was king. It was the "trendy" thing to do.

The Indy 500 was not even televised until 1965-and then only on tape delay. It was not until 1986 when ABC televised flag-to-flag coverage of the 500. But it wasn't because it wasn't cool-that's just how exclusive it was.

The sport didn't need promotion-if you weren't familiar with A.J. Foyt or Mario Andretti, then shame on you.

All of that changed in 1996, when Tony George, son of late track owner Tony Hulman, took command of the Indianapolis 500 and developed his own racing league, the Indy Racing League (IRL).

Costs were spiraling out of control and the influx of foreign drivers was beginning to overtake the sport. George's theory was to cut costs with a single engine provider (Oldsmobile) and a choice of either a Dallara or G-Force chassis. He wanted to give American drivers more opportunities to get back into open wheel racing.

The next few years, however, were nothing short of total disaster. A group of unknowns-including a then-unknown Tony Stewart-dominated the 33 car lineup for the Indy 500. Gone were names like Andretti and Unser. In essence, because of George's IRL-of which they were not a part-they were banned from competing. But George remained steadfast, invoking his 25/8 rule which guaranteed a spot for his IRL drivers and opened up only eight other spots for non-IRL competitors.

While IRL floundered, a new sheriff arrived in town and that was NASCAR. At one time, NASCAR was considered to be the redneck hillbilly sport, a red-headed stepchild to Indy.

But all along, NASCAR had an advantage that open wheel racing didn't. If fans rooted for a manufacturer-like the traditional Ford vs. Chevy debate-you could do that with NASCAR. In open wheel, all the cars appeared the same, whether they were Offys, Cosworths or Hondas. It was the drivers, and not the car manufacturers, that you supported.

But then NASCAR discovered the value in marketing their drivers as well. Before long, drivers were now coming from all over the country, rather than just the deep south. Enter the era of Jeff Gordon.

Today, the most recognizable names in open wheel are Penske and Ganassi-car owners, not drivers.

NASCAR has mastered something open wheel ignored for far too long-promotion and marketing. As one NASCAR analyst so appropriately said, "It's no longer just a southern ritual; it is a national way of life."

Today's king, however, could do well to pay attention to history. They say if it ain't broke, don't fix it-and perhaps NASCAR should heed that advice. Over the last five years, the sport has seen massive changes in upper level management, a new points system to determine champions, a new series sponsor, introduction of foreign cars and markets, elimination of some traditional tracks, and now the introduction of the Car of Tomorrow (COT). That's a lot to ask fans to keep up with.

NASCAR needs to be cognizant of the changing times and continue to market and promote its product. Open wheel chose not to, and now it may be time to disconnect the ventilators.