Thursday, May 29, 2003 | 10:21 a.m.
The wallpaper on the computer terminal on which I am writing this column shows one of my boyhood favorite racing drivers, the late Swede Savage, posing in his car after qualifying for the grim 1973 Indianapolis 500.
If you look beyond the smiling subject, waving to the gigantic crowd, that photo also shows Indy in all of its glory -- or at least its previous glory. Both levels of the massive front stretch grandstands behind Savage are completely filled, as those were the days when throngs of 200,000 used to turn out just to watch qualification runs.
That was back when Indy was the closest thing to an auto racing all-star game, when many of the best Formula One and NASCAR drivers would not consider their careers complete without trying to conquer Indy.
But today, they can do it in cars in which they are vastly more comfortable, as the Indianapolis Motor Speedway now hosts three major races, NASCAR's Brickyard 400 and the U.S. Grand Prix having joined the starting grid during the past decade.
Until recently, when top Championship Auto Racing Teams drivers returned to Indy almost en masse after boycotting the 500 during the second half of the 1990s, many believed the Indy 500 had become the least significant of the three, which this Hoosier finds about as palatable as Anna-Nicole Smith's pot roast.
But not even the presence of the CART drivers could return Indy to its prior splendor. No more than 10,000 fans were on hand for this year's Pole Day, and although the weather was more suited to antifreeze than motor oil, critics had a field day lambasting the 500.
Then there was "Bump Day," the final day of time trials which is usually more intriguing than a John Grisham novel. This year, it was more like Dr. Seuss. Nobody got bumped. There were only 33 car-driver combinations on the grounds, in stark contrast to the old days, when the entry list usually topped 100.
With nothing happening on the track, the Indy broadcast crew spent the afternoon making excuses for the 500's diminished stature. At least now I know what kind of physician pit road reporter Dr. Jerry Punch is -- a spin doctor.
But by Sunday, much of the tedium of an uneventful month at Indy was forgotten like the guy who finishes second in the race. Although there were some empty seats, there still were around 300,000 that had warm bodies in them. Moreover, the race was competitive and the only casualties were racing engines with the Chevrolet insignia stamped on the block.
Then came another ray of hope for open wheel racing fans -- the 500 actually beat NASCAR's Coca-Cola 600 in the television ratings, 5.1 to 4.9 in the overnights. While that's not exactly lapping the field, at least it shows that the 500 is still as popular as NASCAR's third-biggest race.
That said, critics say Johnson Wax has yet to make a product that can restore Indy to its former lustre. I disagree. If NASCAR and the Indy Racing League would just agree to a little 200-mph detente and run the Indy 500 and Coke 600 on different days, as they were before 1974, it could re-open the 500 to a whole new cast of characters in fireproof suits.
Back in 1973, a guy named Bobby Allison drove for a guy named Roger Penske at Indy. The year before that, Cale Yarborough finished 10th in the 500. In 1971, Donnie Allison finished sixth at Indy and Yarborough was 16th. Lee Roy Yarborough qualified for the 1969 race and a few years before that, in 1965, NASCAR's Wood Brothers, then considered the best in the business, were hired as Jim Clark's pit crew. Clark, perhaps not coincidentally, won the race.
With NASCAR having blown the sidepods off the Indy cars as America's most popular form of motor sports, and the Indy 500 having become the bastion of foreign-born drivers and manufacturers, most of America's best racers -- even those from the Heartland -- are running around in circles down south.
But there's a group of them -- Jeff Gordon, Tony Stewart, John Andretti and Ryan Newman, to name of few -- that grew up within the shadows of Indy's massive grandstands and would love to come back.
Change the schedule, and their sponsors would most likely fall in line. Guys like Stewart and Robby Gordon have been "doing the double" for years, jetting back and forth between Indianapolis and Charlotte, but it wouldn't be so difficult in NASCAR raced on Sunday and Indy went back to Monday, the traditional Memorial Day.
I know what you're thinking: Why should NASCAR be willing to boost the Indy Racing League, its rival in a roundabout way, by putting some of its stars at risk on the most dangerous piece of real estate this side of the Spaghetti Bowl interchange?
Well, I'll tell you why: NASCAR owes a big one to Indianapolis Motor Speedway chief Tony George, for opening Indy's hallowed gates to the lumbering stock cars in 1994. Sure, NASCAR already was growing by then, but George's stamp of approval has helped it become bigger than A.J. Foyt's ego.
Then there's the publicity the crossovers would generate, and the bragging rights that would be at stake. If one of the NASCAR boys could beat the Penske drivers on their home turf, you'd never hear the end of it south of the Mason Dixon line.
I just hope somebody with a little clout at Indy turned away from those meaningless Carburetion Day shenanigans long enough to see what was happening on the golf course in Texas last Thursday. It was a big deal when Annika Sorenstam went head-to-head with the men, but just wait until Jeff Gordon goes wheel-to-wheel with Helio Castroneves on racing's biggest stage.
They say NASCAR and Indy-style racing is like apples and oranges. But for the sake of the sport, and especially the Indy 500, I sure wish they'd go back to making fruit salad.
