(by John Oreovicz espn.go.com 12-22-09)
I was struggling to put together my traditional end-of-year compilation of classic comments from the open-wheel world, and then I stumbled onto a gem of inspiration embedded in a recent story by Marty Smith right here on ESPN.com.
"There's a market right now for folks who are willing to tell it like it is," he wrote. "It's a rarity these days."
Ain't that the truth. Marty was lamenting the way NASCAR and its sponsors tend to, shall we say, strongly suggest that drivers show as little personality as possible. It's pretty much the same way in Indy racing, and drivers almost never deviate from the script in Formula One.
So it's getting harder and harder to come up with memorable quotes from the year. Maybe the personalities just aren't as colorful as they used to be, and some of it is surely just me losing my memory, but instant classics like Tony George's "I take my hammer to work every day" and Bobby Rahal's "No harm, no foul" just aren't happening very often these days.
But there were still a few zingers -- especially when taken in context. We'll start with an entry from a veritable quote machine who ought to have a full-time IndyCar ride for publicity value alone. Paul Tracy is a hell of a race car driver, too -- the kind of aggressive, combustible racer that Marty and I obviously agree the sport needs more of …
"As I was laying on the couch watching the disaster of a race at St. Pete, I felt like I could get out there and clean everybody's clock, the way they were driving." -- Paul Tracy
"I continue to be perplexed by the board's recent decision to relieve me from my responsibility as CEO of the enterprise." -- Ousted Indianapolis Motor Speedway boss Tony George, who therapeutically expressed himself with occasional statements on the Vision Racing Web site.
"I thought the verbal bashing from Marco [Andretti] was completely unwarranted. Who's on the outside on the first corner of the first lap, up in the marbles at the 500? Say no more." -- Jimmy Vasser defending his driver Mario Moraes after an avoidable first-lap accident in the Indianapolis 500.
Foul Language Dept.
"Where the f--- is everyone? I'm world champion, man!" -- Jenson Button's greeting to the near-empty interview room at the Brazilian Grand Prix when he arrived for his championship press conference.
"I'm definitely a guy that's done a lot of stupid s--- too. It happens." -- Scott Dixon defending Ryan Briscoe's pit-lane gaffe in Japan.
The Danica Files
Danica Patrick's pursuit of a NASCAR career was a yearlong story, and by September she grew tired of talking about it. "You'll know when I tell you," was the terse mantra she adopted. But she was still the IndyCar driver most in demand by the media and almost always a good quote.
"You have a million times more joy turning a good lap on a road course than an oval." -- Danica Patrick. Good luck finding joy in NASCAR, then.
"I'm learning how everything I say and everything I do, I just have to imagine that it's all on camera." -- Patrick's reaction to being questioned about throwing fewer tantrums this year.
"She should stay where she is." Pioneering Indy car driver Janet Guthrie assessing Patrick's move into NASCAR.
"I'm starting to get a little nervous. It's time to do my part of the deal and get in these cars and perform."-- Patrick, after her JR Motorsports deal was finally announced.
Milka Mania
Since she's riding Danica's coattails into stock car racing, maybe it's appropriate that we feature a Milka Duno quote as well. Before the season, when she was testing for that Newman/Haas/Lanigan Racing ride that didn't quite pan out, I asked Milka how she would respond to the notion that some people maybe questioned her talent and whether she deserved the seat. Her reply was priceless:
"Yes, well, there's only two peoples … [writers] Robin Miller and Curt Cavin. I'm not thinking about what they say. They really don't understand about racing and it's not interesting for me what is the opinion that they have." -- Milka Duno
The Dario Diaries
"A championship doesn't all come down to one race or one point. That's the moment that everybody remembers, but it was a long season, and a lot of things got us there." -- Dario Franchitti, who said it 11 days before he won the IndyCar season finale -- and the championship -- by using a fuel-mileage strategy at the Homestead finale that had some competitors grousing.
"I apologized to the fans, because they came out to see good racing, and I didn't feel tonight was that." -- Franchitti, who wasn't the only one who noticed the lack of passing at what turned out to be the IndyCar Series' last race at Richmond International Raceway.
"He pays all the time; he's his own worst enemy. TK is always the first man to reach for his credit card." -- Franchitti explaining why his pal Tony Kanaan seemed so out of sorts all year long.
No doubt the happiest story of the IndyCar year was Justin Wilson's victory for Dale Coyne Racing at Watkins Glen. It was the only race in 2009 that Target Chip Ganassi Racing or Penske Racing did not win, prompting Coyne to say:
"We were David and we beat two Goliaths today. My wife and I didn't buy a new house; we bought an engineer." -- Dale Coyne, after his first win in 25 years of trying.
The New Car Follies
The IndyCar Series originally announced that its new formula for engines and chassis would be implemented in 2011. That quietly turned into 2012, and the way things are going, 2013 may not be out of the question. Here's a timeline of the IRL's progress -- or lack thereof.
"We've engaged multiple manufacturers. We're at a point where at least one of them in the next 60 days should be seeking board approval for participation in the IndyCar Series in the future." -- Brian Barnhart, now COO of the Indy Racing League, in February
"We have previously confirmed five engine manufacturers have expressed continued interest in participating in the IndyCar Series in the future … and they continue to show great interest. Plans for introducing a new engine spec, while remaining and maintaining the series position as a leader in the use of ethanol biofuels remains an ongoing process with considerable OEM [original equipment manufacturer] input. We are expecting to finalize the engine specifications in the next few months." -- Barnhart, July
"I think we'll have the package announced by Thanksgiving of this year. We expect the engine and chassis specifications to be announced in the fourth quarter." -- Barnhart, September
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Friday, December 18, 2009
Vision for IndyCar, speedway still on track
(by John Oreovics espn.go.com 12-17-09)
One of the most important stories in Indy car racing during 2009 was the boardroom coup that resulted in Tony George being removed from power at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway. Even more surprising was George's subsequent decision to relinquish leadership of the Indy Racing League and the IZOD IndyCar Series, which he founded back in 1996.
George's roles with the IRL and IMS were taken over by Jeff Belskus, a longtime associate of the Hulman-George family who has worked for IMS since 1987. Like the Hulman family and many key members of Speedway management, Belskus is a native of Terre Haute, Ind., and he has been a friend of George through high school and into their time at Indiana State University.
A certified public accountant by trade, Belskus has long been known as the money man in the background of the IMS hierarchy. But with George's ouster from IMS and surprise move to distance himself from the IRL, Belskus found himself thrust into the spotlight.
Shy by nature, Belskus was somewhat unfairly roasted by Indianapolis Star columnist Bob Kravitz following his first public appearance in his new roles. But the key constituents of the Speedway and the IndyCar Series are comfortable with their new leader, mainly because he was quickly able offer a sense of calm and a "business as usual" approach to the issues faced by the track and the league.
"I think it has gone as well as anyone could expect it to go," Belskus said of his first three months as the outright leader of IMS and IRL. "I'm pleased with the way it has gone. Tony and I have a good working relationship and I'm happy about that. I'm still spending a lot of time learning the lay of the land in some respects. It's been a great learning experience so far and I feel good about the way it has gone."
Belskus' longterm association with the Indianapolis Motor Speedway Corporation gave him an insider's view of the workings of the company, a huge advantage over hiring an outsider to take over the notoriously private family business. He's not concerned that he could be stretched too thin by being in charge of multiple facets of the company.
"We have a good team in place at IMS that is very experienced and we depend on them," he remarked. "Even though I'm not there, I get e-mails and phone calls, but I have responsibility for running the Indianapolis Motor Speedway."
After relying solely on the Indianapolis 500 through 1993, the Speedway now hosts three major events a year. In 2009, attendance was down for the NASCAR Brickyard 400 and the second running of the Red Bull Indianapolis MotoGP race, but Belskus is not significantly concerned.
"Renewals [for the Brickyard] have been strong -- they are in line with last year," he said. "It's a higher quality product when you don't have to stop every nine or 10 laps for a competition yellow [as happened in 2008], so we hope those problems are behind us and we can win back the fans we lost as a result of that.
"Having said that, it seems like NASCAR in general, whether it's the economy or whatever it is, has certainly had their share of attendance issues this year. It's a good event for us and we hope it continues to be a good event for us. We met expectations this year. We planned for it to be off, but I think that was as much about the economy as it was about the event."
A bigger adjustment has been required in terms of managing and being the public face of the IRL. One of the toughest tasks he already dealt with was cutting staff by approximately 40.
"It's an ongoing process," Belskus said. "We're doing what we can to review everything for efficiencies to try to be as productive as we can be. I know my way around the racetrack pretty well and there haven't been too many surprises about what's going on with the League at these events. Terry Angstadt [Vice-President of Marketing] and Brian Barnhart [Vice-President of Competition and Operations] are working hard and doing a good job, and I think we deliver a lot of value."
The IndyCar Series got a huge boost in early November when it was revealed that apparel manufacturer IZOD signed a multi-year contract for title sponsor rights. Most importantly from Belskus' perspective, IZOD is essentially going to pick up the tab for the TEAM subsidy program that pays each full-time competitor up to $1.2 million annually in lieu of prize money.
"Getting the right [title sponsor] was important," Belskus said. "We spent a lot of time talking about 'fair value' and what the series is worth. We're very excited about being associated with IZOD, a brand that we feel good about."
The other bullet the IRL dodged was Danica Patrick's potential move to NASCAR. In the end, America's favorite female racer elected to remain with Andretti Autosport in Indy cars fulltime for at least the 2010 season while beginning to sample the world of NASCAR with a limited schedule for JR Motorsports in the Nationwide Series.
"She's great for our series and an important part of our series," said the IRL leader. "We hope to see her as a part of it for many years to come. I won't say it's absolutely necessary, but we'd prefer to have her here, given our druthers. My hope is that she's going to continue to be an Indy car driver first and foremost."
Belskus said that Indy car racing fans shouldn't expect radical changes to the IRL schedule or the Indianapolis 500 during his watch. However, at a Dec. 9 meeting, the IMS board did approve a plan to shorten the month of May Indy activities to include just one week of practice and a single qualifying weekend.
"We will still be primarily a North American series, though international events are important to us," Belskus said. "We need a compelling reason to do the international events and it is important from that perspective. For Japan, it's because of Honda. We're looking at three or four international events as the most. I don't see it as a significant portion of our schedule."
Thursday, December 17, 2009
For Indianapolis Motor Speedway's Jeff Belskus, it cuts like a knife
(by Anthony Schoettle ibj.com/the-score 12-16-09)
It doesn’t make any sense.
That’s the thought that went through my head yesterday when Indianapolis Motor Speedway CEO Jeff Belskus told me business operations at the famed Brickyard “aren’t as bad as they look.”
Well, they look pretty bad.
There have been two rounds of layoffs within the last year, sending at least 70 people packing at the IMS—and its sister operations. That doesn’t include the people who vacated voluntarily.
There are a couple company jets for sale, the month of May is being sliced by one-third and the golf course and catering businesses are being privatized.
“The sky is not falling,” Belskus said yesterday from what looks like an unmistakable hard hat zone.
Belskus insists the Indianapolis 500 is financially strong and the MotoGP and Brickyard 400 races are “making positive impacts on the business.”
Belskus admits the motorcycle and NASCAR events aren’t making nearly as positive an impact as they once did. Still, something doesn’t jibe.
With all your properties presumably turning a profit, why all the cost cutting. And consider, this is a property—with its famed oval, 2.5-mile road course, broadcast facilities, pagoda, garages and other infrastructure—that was once estimated to have hard assets near $1 billion.
There’s another thing I don’t understand. The notion that shrinking the month of May won’t have much of an economic impact on Indianapolis.
What about all those thousands of motorsports related businesses in the region that the governor and Indiana Motorsports Association have been touting recently. Aren’t they hurt by this—at least a little?
My how things have changed. Steve Goldsmith thought the month of May was so important to the city, he threw all his support behind Tony George in the mid-1990s as open-wheel racing began to fracture.
A former top Goldsmith aid recently told me that the then mayor threw his support behind George after CART boss Andrew Craig told Goldsmith his plan was to cut back the month of May and emphasize the entire series.
In 2000, a study demonstrated the Indianapolis 500 had a $336.6 million economic impact on the city. It takes $6 million to $10 million annually on the conservative side to run an IRL team.
And we’re talking about reducing hotel and dry cleaning costs for teams and a week’s worth of yellow shirt staffing for the IMS. Oh, and a week’s worth of expenses for IMS Productions.
Belskus said the most recent move will create a six-figure savings for the Speedway. Team operators say they’ll save five-figures. By my calculations, this is a low single-figure percentage savings for the Speedway and IRL teams.
Now this startling revelation: Belskus said the IRL teams asked him to cut the month of May. I thought the Indianapolis 500 was the one thing that has kept the IRL afloat during the worst of times. I thought that’s what kept the teams, sponsors and TV partners hanging in there.
And in the same breath, Belskus told a small group of us reporters gathered yesterday at IMS’ headquarters that another IRL race could slide into the calendar space abdicated by the Indy 500—as soon as 2011. Wouldn’t that take a bit more luster off the Greatest Spectacle in Racing? This is the exact sort of idea that caused caused Goldsmith to turn his back on Craig.
This part of the puzzle does make sense: The Indy Racing League is not profitable, and its losses might now be outstripping the shrinking financial gains of the 500, 400 and MotoGP race.
Officials for the Performance Racing Industry Show, the nation’s largest motorsports industry trade show held last week in Orlando, told IBJ yesterday that business for all motorsports companies was down 30 percent in 2009—40 percent or more for open-wheel businesses.
And there’s this: The board that controls the Speedway and Indy Racing League didn’t care for Tony George’s proclamation that the IRL needs to be profitable by 2013 or else. They liked the idea of profitability, but another three plus years of sucking money from the family fortune didn’t sit well. That six-member board includes George’s three sisters and mother.
Belskus, the IMS’ former chief financial officer who replaced George as captain July 1, got the message. He sharpened his pencil—and his scalpel—to a very fine point.
And the transformational surgery is underway.
It doesn’t make any sense.
That’s the thought that went through my head yesterday when Indianapolis Motor Speedway CEO Jeff Belskus told me business operations at the famed Brickyard “aren’t as bad as they look.”
Well, they look pretty bad.
There have been two rounds of layoffs within the last year, sending at least 70 people packing at the IMS—and its sister operations. That doesn’t include the people who vacated voluntarily.
There are a couple company jets for sale, the month of May is being sliced by one-third and the golf course and catering businesses are being privatized.
“The sky is not falling,” Belskus said yesterday from what looks like an unmistakable hard hat zone.
Belskus insists the Indianapolis 500 is financially strong and the MotoGP and Brickyard 400 races are “making positive impacts on the business.”
Belskus admits the motorcycle and NASCAR events aren’t making nearly as positive an impact as they once did. Still, something doesn’t jibe.
With all your properties presumably turning a profit, why all the cost cutting. And consider, this is a property—with its famed oval, 2.5-mile road course, broadcast facilities, pagoda, garages and other infrastructure—that was once estimated to have hard assets near $1 billion.
There’s another thing I don’t understand. The notion that shrinking the month of May won’t have much of an economic impact on Indianapolis.
What about all those thousands of motorsports related businesses in the region that the governor and Indiana Motorsports Association have been touting recently. Aren’t they hurt by this—at least a little?
My how things have changed. Steve Goldsmith thought the month of May was so important to the city, he threw all his support behind Tony George in the mid-1990s as open-wheel racing began to fracture.
A former top Goldsmith aid recently told me that the then mayor threw his support behind George after CART boss Andrew Craig told Goldsmith his plan was to cut back the month of May and emphasize the entire series.
In 2000, a study demonstrated the Indianapolis 500 had a $336.6 million economic impact on the city. It takes $6 million to $10 million annually on the conservative side to run an IRL team.
And we’re talking about reducing hotel and dry cleaning costs for teams and a week’s worth of yellow shirt staffing for the IMS. Oh, and a week’s worth of expenses for IMS Productions.
Belskus said the most recent move will create a six-figure savings for the Speedway. Team operators say they’ll save five-figures. By my calculations, this is a low single-figure percentage savings for the Speedway and IRL teams.
Now this startling revelation: Belskus said the IRL teams asked him to cut the month of May. I thought the Indianapolis 500 was the one thing that has kept the IRL afloat during the worst of times. I thought that’s what kept the teams, sponsors and TV partners hanging in there.
And in the same breath, Belskus told a small group of us reporters gathered yesterday at IMS’ headquarters that another IRL race could slide into the calendar space abdicated by the Indy 500—as soon as 2011. Wouldn’t that take a bit more luster off the Greatest Spectacle in Racing? This is the exact sort of idea that caused caused Goldsmith to turn his back on Craig.
This part of the puzzle does make sense: The Indy Racing League is not profitable, and its losses might now be outstripping the shrinking financial gains of the 500, 400 and MotoGP race.
Officials for the Performance Racing Industry Show, the nation’s largest motorsports industry trade show held last week in Orlando, told IBJ yesterday that business for all motorsports companies was down 30 percent in 2009—40 percent or more for open-wheel businesses.
And there’s this: The board that controls the Speedway and Indy Racing League didn’t care for Tony George’s proclamation that the IRL needs to be profitable by 2013 or else. They liked the idea of profitability, but another three plus years of sucking money from the family fortune didn’t sit well. That six-member board includes George’s three sisters and mother.
Belskus, the IMS’ former chief financial officer who replaced George as captain July 1, got the message. He sharpened his pencil—and his scalpel—to a very fine point.
And the transformational surgery is underway.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Stars aligned in open-wheel world
(by John Oreovicz espn.go.com 11-26-09)
There's a tendency in life to focus on what's wrong with things, and racing is no exception.
But in the spirit of the holiday season, here's a look at what's right. In other words, a few things to be thankful for in the world of open-wheel racing.
Everyone involved with the IndyCar Series is thankful that Izod has come on board as a title sponsor that will aggressively market the series.
Izod and IndyCar officials are thankful that Danica Patrick will concentrate primarily on open-wheelers for the next few years. But they wish she and her handlers would finally get around to announcing it.
A lot of people who spend time at IndyCar races are thankful for the quieter exhaust system Honda Performance Development created for the Honda Indy V-8 -- not to mention Honda's continued support of American open-wheel racing.
All the IndyCar Series drivers appreciate the consistent excellence of the Firestone tires they race on, and are also thankful for the introduction this year of red-sidewall alternate tires for road and street courses.
Speaking of road racing, the vast majority of the IndyCar field is thankful that additional road races (Brazil, Barber) are popping up on the schedule.
But I'm sure I wouldn't be the only thankful person if somebody figured out a way to solve the Milwaukee Mile's financial problems so Indy racing's century of history at the historic venue could be extended.
I don't think I am alone in wanting to see Cleveland and Road America on the IndyCar slate as well.
I'm glad that Indy car racing still attracts world-class drivers like Dario Franchitti, Scott Dixon, Tony Kanaan, Ryan Briscoe and Helio Castroneves.
I'm thankful that Juan Pablo Montoya is starting to show NASCAR and the world that former Indy car drivers really can adapt to stock car racing.
Franchitti and almost every other IndyCar Series competitor are thankful that the ever-slow and always-erratic Milka Duno didn't ever sweep them into a crash.
Another world-class Indy driver, Will Power, is thankful that Roger Penske is stepping up to run a third car for him in 2010.
I'm thankful that the broken back Power suffered (and the broken leg sustained by Nelson Philippe in the same practice crash at Infineon Raceway) was the worst injury of the IndyCar season.
I'm also thankful that I got to witness Justin Wilson's victory for Dale Coyne Racing at Watkins Glen -- one of the best racing stories of the year. A surprisingly long list of drivers out there is grateful to Coyne for his 25 years in the sport.
I'm hopeful that the next wave of American road racing talent -- including JR Hildebrand, Jonathan Summerton, John Edwards, Alexander Rossi and Gabby Chaves -- gets a fair shot at competing in the IndyCar Series, or even F1.
Speaking of F1, world champion Jenson Button is thankful that Red Bull Racing didn't get its car sorted until midseason.
Kimi Raikkonen must be ecstatic at the thought of being paid an eight-figure salary to watch F1 from the sidelines next year.
Felipe Massa is thankful for the safety advances in modern helmets -- as are the Brazilian's legions of fans.
A lot of people remain happy that a few traditional F1 racetracks like Spa, Monza and Suzuka continue to endure the onslaught of fabulous yet characterless Hermann Tilke-designed facilities.
Finally, I'm thankful that my 3-year-old son, Patrick, seems to enjoy watching just about any form of racing as much as his daddy does.
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!
There's a tendency in life to focus on what's wrong with things, and racing is no exception.
But in the spirit of the holiday season, here's a look at what's right. In other words, a few things to be thankful for in the world of open-wheel racing.
Everyone involved with the IndyCar Series is thankful that Izod has come on board as a title sponsor that will aggressively market the series.
Izod and IndyCar officials are thankful that Danica Patrick will concentrate primarily on open-wheelers for the next few years. But they wish she and her handlers would finally get around to announcing it.
A lot of people who spend time at IndyCar races are thankful for the quieter exhaust system Honda Performance Development created for the Honda Indy V-8 -- not to mention Honda's continued support of American open-wheel racing.
All the IndyCar Series drivers appreciate the consistent excellence of the Firestone tires they race on, and are also thankful for the introduction this year of red-sidewall alternate tires for road and street courses.
Speaking of road racing, the vast majority of the IndyCar field is thankful that additional road races (Brazil, Barber) are popping up on the schedule.
But I'm sure I wouldn't be the only thankful person if somebody figured out a way to solve the Milwaukee Mile's financial problems so Indy racing's century of history at the historic venue could be extended.
I don't think I am alone in wanting to see Cleveland and Road America on the IndyCar slate as well.
I'm glad that Indy car racing still attracts world-class drivers like Dario Franchitti, Scott Dixon, Tony Kanaan, Ryan Briscoe and Helio Castroneves.
I'm thankful that Juan Pablo Montoya is starting to show NASCAR and the world that former Indy car drivers really can adapt to stock car racing.
Franchitti and almost every other IndyCar Series competitor are thankful that the ever-slow and always-erratic Milka Duno didn't ever sweep them into a crash.
Another world-class Indy driver, Will Power, is thankful that Roger Penske is stepping up to run a third car for him in 2010.
I'm thankful that the broken back Power suffered (and the broken leg sustained by Nelson Philippe in the same practice crash at Infineon Raceway) was the worst injury of the IndyCar season.
I'm also thankful that I got to witness Justin Wilson's victory for Dale Coyne Racing at Watkins Glen -- one of the best racing stories of the year. A surprisingly long list of drivers out there is grateful to Coyne for his 25 years in the sport.
I'm hopeful that the next wave of American road racing talent -- including JR Hildebrand, Jonathan Summerton, John Edwards, Alexander Rossi and Gabby Chaves -- gets a fair shot at competing in the IndyCar Series, or even F1.
Speaking of F1, world champion Jenson Button is thankful that Red Bull Racing didn't get its car sorted until midseason.
Kimi Raikkonen must be ecstatic at the thought of being paid an eight-figure salary to watch F1 from the sidelines next year.
Felipe Massa is thankful for the safety advances in modern helmets -- as are the Brazilian's legions of fans.
A lot of people remain happy that a few traditional F1 racetracks like Spa, Monza and Suzuka continue to endure the onslaught of fabulous yet characterless Hermann Tilke-designed facilities.
Finally, I'm thankful that my 3-year-old son, Patrick, seems to enjoy watching just about any form of racing as much as his daddy does.
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!
IndyCar deal with Izod a real shot in the arm
(by John Oreovicz espn.go.com 11-06-09)
"Let's get the party started!"
With those words from Indy Racing League vice president of public relations John Griffin, the IndyCar Series rolled out the red carpet for its first title sponsor since 2001. With the marketing muscle of Phillips-Van Heusen Corp. behind it, the Izod IndyCar Series may finally get noticed as "The Fastest Race in the World."
At first glance, the notion of an apparel brand and a racing series teaming together doesn't add up. But if you look at the initiatives taken (not to mention the promotional dollars spent) since Izod entered Indy car racing as a personal sponsor of American star Ryan Hunter-Reay 16 months ago, it starts to make sense.
"It obviously has been a long time since we've had a title sponsor, and to be honest with you, it's probably the first legitimate title sponsor we've ever had," said IRL competition president Brian Barnhart, without mentioning short-lived former partners Pep Boys (1998-99) and NorthernLight.com (2000-01).
"I think the best thing about it is going to be the activation aspect of it because they're going to spend a lot of money raising the awareness of the series and increasing the amount of eyeballs that are watching our sport. That's the first step in raising the value of participation in this series."
It certainly sounds like the way the six-year deal (with an option for Izod to extend) has been structured will benefit everyone involved with Indy car racing. Aside from the cash influx the Indy Racing League needed at a critical juncture for the company, Izod's money will be allocated to participants as part of the TEAM revenue-sharing program. It's a given that PVH will promote the sport through aggressive television, print and Internet media ad buys and driver appearances at Macy's stores.
Izod is likely to reserve plenty of track signage and work closely with promoters in local race markets.
"We expect to be very aggressive in our spending," said Mike Kelly, PVH executive vice president of marketing and creative.
The title backing, worth upward of $10 million annually, is part of PVH's strategy of building Izod's brand image through sports marketing, including securing naming rights for the Meadowlands arena that the New Jersey Nets call home.
The IndyCar Series also offers PVH the opportunity to cross-market its premium brands, including Calvin Klein, Timberland and Sean John, to the demographically upscale open-wheel audience.
Kelly was Hunter-Reay's guest at the 2008 Indianapolis 500 and said, "It took about four seconds before the needle was in my arm."
By the Watkins Glen race on July 4 weekend, RHR had earned a personal sponsorship contract from Izod. The driver arguably responsible for delivering the Izod title sponsorship to the IndyCar Series affirmed his enthusiasm for the partnership during the presentation at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway Pagoda Pavilion on Thursday.
"This is a fresh start for the IndyCar Series," said Hunter-Reay, who is reportedly on the brink of clinching -- with Izod's support -- the open fourth seat with Michael Andretti's team. "This is what we've been waiting for. They're more a marketing company than anything else and the sky's the limit right now."
With the economy in a continued tailspin and Indy car racing's public profile at a low point, Izod couldn't have picked a better time to get on board with open-wheel racing and the chances of the sport making a comeback increased significantly with Thursday's title sponsorship announcement.
"As a corporation, if you see what we're doing across all of our brands, we have not pulled back in our marketing spend even though the environment became difficult," Kelly said. "We have grown, our brands have grown, we've grown in market share -- we believe in share of units, share of dollars, also share of voice and share of mind.
"While our competition has pulled back on their spending, we see it in the marketplace. We've been aggressive with the spend. We're fortunate to be able to do so as a healthy company. It's bearing fruit for us."
Kelly said he and PVH were captivated by the potential of using the Indianapolis Motor Speedway Centennial Celebration as a marketing platform and believe Indy car racing can regain the stature it enjoyed in the 1980s and '90s until the battle for control of the sport between the IRL and CART/Champ Car killed whatever momentum the formula carried.
"The assets are so rich," Kelly said. "If you think about the power of [Indy car racing] during the '80s and the '90s on the American racing landscape, now you've got a next generation that just doesn't realize how sexy and cool this sport is. I think we have a lot to offer the league, but the league has a lot of great assets to tell a story with.
"It's an opportunity, no question," he added. "If everything was rosy and the series was mature after the unification, I'm not sure we could afford it. I think it's right time, right place, and we do see upside. If you think of it as a toddler that's on its feet now, that's the kind of position we like. We want to be part of it, because we're not just committed for the short term."
"Let's get the party started!"
With those words from Indy Racing League vice president of public relations John Griffin, the IndyCar Series rolled out the red carpet for its first title sponsor since 2001. With the marketing muscle of Phillips-Van Heusen Corp. behind it, the Izod IndyCar Series may finally get noticed as "The Fastest Race in the World."
At first glance, the notion of an apparel brand and a racing series teaming together doesn't add up. But if you look at the initiatives taken (not to mention the promotional dollars spent) since Izod entered Indy car racing as a personal sponsor of American star Ryan Hunter-Reay 16 months ago, it starts to make sense.
"It obviously has been a long time since we've had a title sponsor, and to be honest with you, it's probably the first legitimate title sponsor we've ever had," said IRL competition president Brian Barnhart, without mentioning short-lived former partners Pep Boys (1998-99) and NorthernLight.com (2000-01).
"I think the best thing about it is going to be the activation aspect of it because they're going to spend a lot of money raising the awareness of the series and increasing the amount of eyeballs that are watching our sport. That's the first step in raising the value of participation in this series."
It certainly sounds like the way the six-year deal (with an option for Izod to extend) has been structured will benefit everyone involved with Indy car racing. Aside from the cash influx the Indy Racing League needed at a critical juncture for the company, Izod's money will be allocated to participants as part of the TEAM revenue-sharing program. It's a given that PVH will promote the sport through aggressive television, print and Internet media ad buys and driver appearances at Macy's stores.
Izod is likely to reserve plenty of track signage and work closely with promoters in local race markets.
"We expect to be very aggressive in our spending," said Mike Kelly, PVH executive vice president of marketing and creative.
The title backing, worth upward of $10 million annually, is part of PVH's strategy of building Izod's brand image through sports marketing, including securing naming rights for the Meadowlands arena that the New Jersey Nets call home.
The IndyCar Series also offers PVH the opportunity to cross-market its premium brands, including Calvin Klein, Timberland and Sean John, to the demographically upscale open-wheel audience.
Kelly was Hunter-Reay's guest at the 2008 Indianapolis 500 and said, "It took about four seconds before the needle was in my arm."
By the Watkins Glen race on July 4 weekend, RHR had earned a personal sponsorship contract from Izod. The driver arguably responsible for delivering the Izod title sponsorship to the IndyCar Series affirmed his enthusiasm for the partnership during the presentation at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway Pagoda Pavilion on Thursday.
"This is a fresh start for the IndyCar Series," said Hunter-Reay, who is reportedly on the brink of clinching -- with Izod's support -- the open fourth seat with Michael Andretti's team. "This is what we've been waiting for. They're more a marketing company than anything else and the sky's the limit right now."
With the economy in a continued tailspin and Indy car racing's public profile at a low point, Izod couldn't have picked a better time to get on board with open-wheel racing and the chances of the sport making a comeback increased significantly with Thursday's title sponsorship announcement.
"As a corporation, if you see what we're doing across all of our brands, we have not pulled back in our marketing spend even though the environment became difficult," Kelly said. "We have grown, our brands have grown, we've grown in market share -- we believe in share of units, share of dollars, also share of voice and share of mind.
"While our competition has pulled back on their spending, we see it in the marketplace. We've been aggressive with the spend. We're fortunate to be able to do so as a healthy company. It's bearing fruit for us."
Kelly said he and PVH were captivated by the potential of using the Indianapolis Motor Speedway Centennial Celebration as a marketing platform and believe Indy car racing can regain the stature it enjoyed in the 1980s and '90s until the battle for control of the sport between the IRL and CART/Champ Car killed whatever momentum the formula carried.
"The assets are so rich," Kelly said. "If you think about the power of [Indy car racing] during the '80s and the '90s on the American racing landscape, now you've got a next generation that just doesn't realize how sexy and cool this sport is. I think we have a lot to offer the league, but the league has a lot of great assets to tell a story with.
"It's an opportunity, no question," he added. "If everything was rosy and the series was mature after the unification, I'm not sure we could afford it. I think it's right time, right place, and we do see upside. If you think of it as a toddler that's on its feet now, that's the kind of position we like. We want to be part of it, because we're not just committed for the short term."
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Friday, October 23, 2009
Is NASCAR playing it too safe?
(by Ed Hinton espn.go.com 10-22-09)
I shall now ask you the fans the toughest, touchiest, most personal, most politically incorrect question I have ever asked you:
Is racing dangerous enough for you anymore?
This bears asking, in light of your massively expressed discontent and growing apathy toward NASCAR. I wonder if the radical reduction of danger in the safety revolution isn't at the root of it all.
Don't get me wrong. I never have been one of those who believed the masses came to motor races to see people get killed.
But I have always believed you came, in some measure, to sense that death and serious injury were being narrowly avoided before your eyes.
I could hear it in your thunderous cheers whenever a Dale Earnhardt or a Tim Richmond would climb out of a demolished car and wave to the crowd. Or a Rick Mears would rise laughing out of a pile of rubble at Indy.
Before Jimmie Johnson rocketed from obscurity at the lesser levels to astounding success in Cup, his entire career highlight film lasted less than a minute: one horrific crash at Watkins Glen, head-on into a barrier that exploded; he jumped right out of the wreckage and onto the roof of his Busch car, and thrust both arms skyward.
Both he and the crowd were clearly exhilarated by his triumph over near-disaster. I wonder if your current apathy toward him is, in part, because he's had no moments like that in Cup.
I'm not pushing you onto a psychiatric couch here. I'm just asking about human nature, the anthropological fact of fascination with, say, the high-wire artist, the matador, the Navy SEAL, or -- in the analogy once drawn for me by NASCAR president Mike Helton -- the fighter pilot.
Atop that list of the daring, for more than a century between the first automobile race in 1894 and this, the fruition of the racing safety revolution, was the racing driver.
These past few years you have told me in droves that NASCAR has become boring -- "BO-ring," you often spell it -- via e-mail and comments on the ESPN Conversation pages. Yet NASCAR publicists bombard me constantly with computer-acquired "loop data" meant to prove, mathematically, that there's more passing, closer racing, fewer runaway wins than ever before.
So all I can rely on are my own eyes and memory, and I cannot for the life of me see that the racing is any more or less boring than it ever was whenever fields get strung out, and someone leads and leads and leads. Johnson does it, but so did Richard Petty.
You roundly say you despise the Car of Tomorrow because it's awkward and further dampens the racing, and because it is essentially a kit car neutered of make.
The new car is aesthetically ugly beyond question, and drivers tell us it's a handful and a clunker. Beyond that, I can't see how it has necessarily hurt the racing -- unless we're constantly watching the driver, inside the car, fighting the wheel and the brake pedal.
As for brand identification, they all looked the same to me a decade before the COT came along. It started in 1997 when NASCAR let Ford get away with a racing Taurus that looked nothing like a street Taurus, and the aerodynamics war went out of control from there, until they were all prototypes, none recognizable from the showroom namesakes.
I wonder whether the real issue with the new car, conscious or subconscious, is that its purpose has been too thoroughly fulfilled -- that it is too safe.
You say the drivers, including Johnson, are mostly vanilla. I wonder if it's more that you don't detect that distinct aura of swagger in men who knew and accepted, whenever a starting grid rolled off the pit road, that they might not make it back.
For the record, no journalist was more vocal than I on behalf of the HANS, soft walls, safer seats, moving the driver more toward the center of the car, and energy-dissipating materials in the cars.
It had gotten to the point that the price of the occasional reminders of the danger was too dear. I'd written too many accounts from too many racetracks where the pall of death or career-ending injury lay palpable and miserable.
I still feel that way. I still applaud, standing, NASCAR's adoption of every single safety measure, and more, advocated by the experts I brought into the discussion in the terrible outbreak of death by basilar skull fracture in 2000-01. Most of those Ph.D.s and M.D.s are now paid consultants for NASCAR.
Still I wonder whether, in doing the right thing -- the only thing, given the scientific capabilities -- racing has had to remove a rudimentary element of its electrifying appeal: the intangible edge on the human spirit during an event that involves high risk.
For a few months after the day Earnhardt didn't climb out, Feb. 18, 2001 at Daytona, NASCAR's television ratings spiked to their highest levels ever. They have declined, pretty much steadily, ever since.
In death he finally made the cover of Sports Illustrated, a place I'd failed to get him in life, during the nine years I worked there, through the prime of his career. Its sister magazine, Time, put him on the cover too, with a story that contained some information I'd written in SI stories that didn't make the cover, information now deemed more interesting to the masses because he was suddenly dead.
Driving the TV-ratings spike in the Earnhardt aftermath were male viewers ages 18-34, the demographic advertisers covet most. After the TV roller coaster, I kept getting this image of youth in droves, parking their dirt bikes and skateboards and saying to one another, "Man, dudes actually die at this NASCAR stuff, so I better check it out."
Then, HANS devices in place, soft walls under construction, danger radically reduced, the youths apparently returned to watching the X Games.
But throughout the aftermath of Earnhardt I felt this: He himself wouldn't have been disgusted by it all, for nobody understood the mass appeal of danger more than Earnhardt. It made him, he knew. And it would destroy him, he seemed to sense all along. And he accepted that.
He once showed me a letter from a woman asking him to drive her husband's hearse from the church to the grave. It had been the man's dying wish.
I knew how Earnhardt was -- he wouldn't go to funerals even for close friends such as Neil Bonnett and Davey Allison. Death was too real, too looming in his own life, too clear and present a danger to Earnhardt all the time.
Knowing this, and having been the victim of his chops-busting humor many a time, I went right back at him over the hearse-driving request. I dropped the letter onto the coffee table between us and asked, "Well? Did you do it?"
"Shee-ee-ee-IT, no!" he said.
And then he muttered: "I'll be in one of them bitches soon enough."
This was six-plus years before his death. Only months before it, amid much driver unrest over the deaths of Adam Petty and Kenny Irwin Jr., Earnhardt famously admonished his skittish peers:
"Put a kerosene rag around your ankles so the ants won't climb up there and eat your candy ass."
I wonder if that isn't what you miss most about him, the seven championships and 76 wins just being the rationale on which you would have rioted had he been left out of NASCAR's very first Hall of Fame class.
But Earnhardt was the paradox of indescribable enormity in NASCAR. A realm always on the bittersweet edge of danger due to the occasional reminders, the deaths of lesser names, could not bear the death of its biggest, its literally most-worshipped star ever.
This was too much. Something had to be done.
It was a flashback to what had happened in Formula One in 1994, when its own man deemed invulnerable to dying in a race car, Ayrton Senna, was killed at Imola, Italy.
The very next race, at Monaco, I sat with F1 czar Bernie Ecclestone in his motor coach in the paddock on race morning, saw the urgency in his face as he looked me in the eye, and heard him utter the words that would begin the worldwide safety revolution that, by now, has changed the electrifying nature of motor racing everywhere forever:
"It is necessary to give out the message to the world that we're not people who don't care."
They had to end the image of blood sport, even in the one so long regarded as the most dangerous -- and therefore somehow romantic -- sport of all, Grand Prix racing.
That they did. The high-tech safety revolution began, though it would not reach NASCAR for seven more years, and the very real death of its own perceived immortal, Earnhardt.
By 1997, Jacques Villeneuve, soon after winning the world driving championship, got into big trouble with the FIA for telling the BBC that Formula One was losing its appeal because it just wasn't dangerous enough anymore.
This was not from a cavalier driver in youthful denial. Nobody in F1 understood death on the track better, more personally. His father, Gilles Villeneuve, had been killed when Jacques was only 11, during qualifying for the Belgian Grand Prix in 1982.
Yet what Jacques said was terribly incorrect politically, because F1 was in the third year of its massive safety and public-relations overhaul.
That didn't mean he wasn't right.
Joey Logano's recent wreck at Dover is a prime example of how we in the media grasp at any remaining straw of the danger element, try to magnify it, bring it back.
The very idea that Logano could have been seriously hurt in that car, in that seat, wearing that helmet and HANS, in that simple rollover, was -- well -- borderline absurd.
But he said it scared him -- of course it did, in a generation of drivers who seem to sense they're playing video games until the simulator jars them enough to remind them that crashing really can hurt.
The commentators were breathless as the replays of Logano's roll went on and on, in slow motion and real time, ad nauseam.
See? Grasping at a straw of something fleeting, nearly gone, trying to bring it back.
We all are human and we all are mortal and we all are trying to deal with that, and seeing the nearness of death is somehow a part of our preparation.
My longtime friend and writing guru, Frank Deford, broke his career-long silence on the subject of auto racing -- he'd often kidded me about the garishness of it -- in the aftermath of Earnhardt. NASCAR, Deford concluded, is indeed "a slice of American life … and death."
Our greatest living novelist, the enigmatic Cormac McCarthy, slipped out of seclusion a couple of years ago for one TV interview, in which he said he does not understand writers who do not deal in matters of life and death.
Given racing today, I wonder if the man who gained fame and fortune by being the most overtly human and mortal of us all, Ernest Hemingway, would have said what he said: "There are only three sports: bullfighting, motor racing and mountaineering, all the others being games."
I wonder if he'd have listed only two. He's not around to ask, so I'm asking you:
Have science and society and their mandates to do the right thing, the humane thing, and the pundits like me who preached it …
Have we reduced your once-deadly, once-electrifying sport to just another game?
I shall now ask you the fans the toughest, touchiest, most personal, most politically incorrect question I have ever asked you:
Is racing dangerous enough for you anymore?
This bears asking, in light of your massively expressed discontent and growing apathy toward NASCAR. I wonder if the radical reduction of danger in the safety revolution isn't at the root of it all.
Don't get me wrong. I never have been one of those who believed the masses came to motor races to see people get killed.
But I have always believed you came, in some measure, to sense that death and serious injury were being narrowly avoided before your eyes.
I could hear it in your thunderous cheers whenever a Dale Earnhardt or a Tim Richmond would climb out of a demolished car and wave to the crowd. Or a Rick Mears would rise laughing out of a pile of rubble at Indy.
Before Jimmie Johnson rocketed from obscurity at the lesser levels to astounding success in Cup, his entire career highlight film lasted less than a minute: one horrific crash at Watkins Glen, head-on into a barrier that exploded; he jumped right out of the wreckage and onto the roof of his Busch car, and thrust both arms skyward.
Both he and the crowd were clearly exhilarated by his triumph over near-disaster. I wonder if your current apathy toward him is, in part, because he's had no moments like that in Cup.
I'm not pushing you onto a psychiatric couch here. I'm just asking about human nature, the anthropological fact of fascination with, say, the high-wire artist, the matador, the Navy SEAL, or -- in the analogy once drawn for me by NASCAR president Mike Helton -- the fighter pilot.
Atop that list of the daring, for more than a century between the first automobile race in 1894 and this, the fruition of the racing safety revolution, was the racing driver.
These past few years you have told me in droves that NASCAR has become boring -- "BO-ring," you often spell it -- via e-mail and comments on the ESPN Conversation pages. Yet NASCAR publicists bombard me constantly with computer-acquired "loop data" meant to prove, mathematically, that there's more passing, closer racing, fewer runaway wins than ever before.
So all I can rely on are my own eyes and memory, and I cannot for the life of me see that the racing is any more or less boring than it ever was whenever fields get strung out, and someone leads and leads and leads. Johnson does it, but so did Richard Petty.
You roundly say you despise the Car of Tomorrow because it's awkward and further dampens the racing, and because it is essentially a kit car neutered of make.
The new car is aesthetically ugly beyond question, and drivers tell us it's a handful and a clunker. Beyond that, I can't see how it has necessarily hurt the racing -- unless we're constantly watching the driver, inside the car, fighting the wheel and the brake pedal.
As for brand identification, they all looked the same to me a decade before the COT came along. It started in 1997 when NASCAR let Ford get away with a racing Taurus that looked nothing like a street Taurus, and the aerodynamics war went out of control from there, until they were all prototypes, none recognizable from the showroom namesakes.
I wonder whether the real issue with the new car, conscious or subconscious, is that its purpose has been too thoroughly fulfilled -- that it is too safe.
You say the drivers, including Johnson, are mostly vanilla. I wonder if it's more that you don't detect that distinct aura of swagger in men who knew and accepted, whenever a starting grid rolled off the pit road, that they might not make it back.
For the record, no journalist was more vocal than I on behalf of the HANS, soft walls, safer seats, moving the driver more toward the center of the car, and energy-dissipating materials in the cars.
It had gotten to the point that the price of the occasional reminders of the danger was too dear. I'd written too many accounts from too many racetracks where the pall of death or career-ending injury lay palpable and miserable.
I still feel that way. I still applaud, standing, NASCAR's adoption of every single safety measure, and more, advocated by the experts I brought into the discussion in the terrible outbreak of death by basilar skull fracture in 2000-01. Most of those Ph.D.s and M.D.s are now paid consultants for NASCAR.
Still I wonder whether, in doing the right thing -- the only thing, given the scientific capabilities -- racing has had to remove a rudimentary element of its electrifying appeal: the intangible edge on the human spirit during an event that involves high risk.
For a few months after the day Earnhardt didn't climb out, Feb. 18, 2001 at Daytona, NASCAR's television ratings spiked to their highest levels ever. They have declined, pretty much steadily, ever since.
In death he finally made the cover of Sports Illustrated, a place I'd failed to get him in life, during the nine years I worked there, through the prime of his career. Its sister magazine, Time, put him on the cover too, with a story that contained some information I'd written in SI stories that didn't make the cover, information now deemed more interesting to the masses because he was suddenly dead.
Driving the TV-ratings spike in the Earnhardt aftermath were male viewers ages 18-34, the demographic advertisers covet most. After the TV roller coaster, I kept getting this image of youth in droves, parking their dirt bikes and skateboards and saying to one another, "Man, dudes actually die at this NASCAR stuff, so I better check it out."
Then, HANS devices in place, soft walls under construction, danger radically reduced, the youths apparently returned to watching the X Games.
But throughout the aftermath of Earnhardt I felt this: He himself wouldn't have been disgusted by it all, for nobody understood the mass appeal of danger more than Earnhardt. It made him, he knew. And it would destroy him, he seemed to sense all along. And he accepted that.
He once showed me a letter from a woman asking him to drive her husband's hearse from the church to the grave. It had been the man's dying wish.
I knew how Earnhardt was -- he wouldn't go to funerals even for close friends such as Neil Bonnett and Davey Allison. Death was too real, too looming in his own life, too clear and present a danger to Earnhardt all the time.
Knowing this, and having been the victim of his chops-busting humor many a time, I went right back at him over the hearse-driving request. I dropped the letter onto the coffee table between us and asked, "Well? Did you do it?"
"Shee-ee-ee-IT, no!" he said.
And then he muttered: "I'll be in one of them bitches soon enough."
This was six-plus years before his death. Only months before it, amid much driver unrest over the deaths of Adam Petty and Kenny Irwin Jr., Earnhardt famously admonished his skittish peers:
"Put a kerosene rag around your ankles so the ants won't climb up there and eat your candy ass."
I wonder if that isn't what you miss most about him, the seven championships and 76 wins just being the rationale on which you would have rioted had he been left out of NASCAR's very first Hall of Fame class.
But Earnhardt was the paradox of indescribable enormity in NASCAR. A realm always on the bittersweet edge of danger due to the occasional reminders, the deaths of lesser names, could not bear the death of its biggest, its literally most-worshipped star ever.
This was too much. Something had to be done.
It was a flashback to what had happened in Formula One in 1994, when its own man deemed invulnerable to dying in a race car, Ayrton Senna, was killed at Imola, Italy.
The very next race, at Monaco, I sat with F1 czar Bernie Ecclestone in his motor coach in the paddock on race morning, saw the urgency in his face as he looked me in the eye, and heard him utter the words that would begin the worldwide safety revolution that, by now, has changed the electrifying nature of motor racing everywhere forever:
"It is necessary to give out the message to the world that we're not people who don't care."
They had to end the image of blood sport, even in the one so long regarded as the most dangerous -- and therefore somehow romantic -- sport of all, Grand Prix racing.
That they did. The high-tech safety revolution began, though it would not reach NASCAR for seven more years, and the very real death of its own perceived immortal, Earnhardt.
By 1997, Jacques Villeneuve, soon after winning the world driving championship, got into big trouble with the FIA for telling the BBC that Formula One was losing its appeal because it just wasn't dangerous enough anymore.
This was not from a cavalier driver in youthful denial. Nobody in F1 understood death on the track better, more personally. His father, Gilles Villeneuve, had been killed when Jacques was only 11, during qualifying for the Belgian Grand Prix in 1982.
Yet what Jacques said was terribly incorrect politically, because F1 was in the third year of its massive safety and public-relations overhaul.
That didn't mean he wasn't right.
Joey Logano's recent wreck at Dover is a prime example of how we in the media grasp at any remaining straw of the danger element, try to magnify it, bring it back.
The very idea that Logano could have been seriously hurt in that car, in that seat, wearing that helmet and HANS, in that simple rollover, was -- well -- borderline absurd.
But he said it scared him -- of course it did, in a generation of drivers who seem to sense they're playing video games until the simulator jars them enough to remind them that crashing really can hurt.
The commentators were breathless as the replays of Logano's roll went on and on, in slow motion and real time, ad nauseam.
See? Grasping at a straw of something fleeting, nearly gone, trying to bring it back.
We all are human and we all are mortal and we all are trying to deal with that, and seeing the nearness of death is somehow a part of our preparation.
My longtime friend and writing guru, Frank Deford, broke his career-long silence on the subject of auto racing -- he'd often kidded me about the garishness of it -- in the aftermath of Earnhardt. NASCAR, Deford concluded, is indeed "a slice of American life … and death."
Our greatest living novelist, the enigmatic Cormac McCarthy, slipped out of seclusion a couple of years ago for one TV interview, in which he said he does not understand writers who do not deal in matters of life and death.
Given racing today, I wonder if the man who gained fame and fortune by being the most overtly human and mortal of us all, Ernest Hemingway, would have said what he said: "There are only three sports: bullfighting, motor racing and mountaineering, all the others being games."
I wonder if he'd have listed only two. He's not around to ask, so I'm asking you:
Have science and society and their mandates to do the right thing, the humane thing, and the pundits like me who preached it …
Have we reduced your once-deadly, once-electrifying sport to just another game?
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