How the Track is Like the Stage

It's hard to believe, but I had been Irish dancing for five years before I became interested in racing.  You'd think motorsports and dance would be a strange combination--in the seventh grade, I wrote an essay about my two interests and my teacher commented that they seemed to be on opposite ends of the spectrum.  On the surface, they are.  But on Saturday, I danced in a competition and gave it some thought.  Just before I went onstage, my brother told me to watch out for the seams, a la Will Power.  That's when I realized that these two very different sports have a lot in common.

For one thing, people have debated whether either of them should be considered sports at all, and the proper response to those people is the same.  Yes, Irish dancers look like pageant girls.  Yes, people drive cars all the time.  But why don't you get onstage and try to stay upright.  See if you can climb in the car and  keep up.      

Another similarity is that when I'm dancing, I am always worried about grip.  I put duct tape on the bottom of  my shoes to help me grab the floor.  Sometimes, I talk to whoever just got offstage:  "How slippery is the floor?  Do I need tape?"  It's an important question, because even though tape can keep you from slipping, it can muffle the sounds.  It reminds me of the alternate tires in Indy Car--you have to decide when grip or durability is more important.

Alain Prost once spoke some words to live by:  "When I look fast, I'm not smooth and I am going slowly.  And when I look slow, I am smooth and going fast."  Just the same, a dancer who appears to be moving quickly is struggling to keep up with the music, but a a dancer who seems to be at a comfortable pace is right on time.     

After the competition, we came home and watched the end of the Georgia Tech-Miami game.  It was a great day for Miami, but I hated seeing those shots of the Georgia Tech players.  In so many sports, there are winners and losers.  But in both Irish dancing and auto racing, you don't necessarily have to lose.  Little improvements can make a difference.  You can see your growth and take pride in your consistency.  That makes them the most satisfying sports to be part of.  

An Electrifying End

Watching the Indy Car season finale at Fontana last night was like a dream.  It probably had a lot to do with my sleep deprivation--over here on the east coast, it was around midnight before we saw the checkered flag.  But how about that finish?  It was nothing less than dramatic.  Fontana was the kind of season finale Randy Bernard probably fantasizes about.

Yes, when Will Power spun well before the halfway point, things were not looking good.  Who wants the championship to be decided so soon?  But he went back out.  In a car held together with duct tape.  Duct tape is good for a lot of things, but I don't know if I trust it that much.  That was proof that Will Power is a real race car driver.     

For a good bit of the race, Ryan Hunter-Reay seemed to be stuck exactly one position behind the one he needed to win the championship.  Oh, the irony!  But I think he was just being smart--this was a five hundred mile race, and there was no reason to push it until the end.  

Oh gosh, five hundred miles of stress.  Don't races feel like work?  (In a good way, of course.)

There were layers of drama, really.  You think it's all decided, since RHR is running fine in fifth, but then here's Tony Kanaan, who's looking for the oval championship.  Tony Kanaan is the guy who just won't give up.  My heart broke when he hit the wall. 

So here he is, Ryan Hunter-Reay, the champion.  I'm happy for him.  And I'm devastated for Will Power.  I wanted to cry when Will crashed.  But I would have cried if anything had happened to Ryan.  In the end, they're both race car drivers, and they both wanted the same thing.  All I wanted was to see a good show, and I did. 

The highlight of the night?  Will Power congratulating Ryan Hunter-Reay.  If there's one thing I adore, it's good sportsmanship.  The only problem with the entire affair was that it ended the Indy Car season.  I miss my race cars already, and believe me, I am counting the hours until they go racing again.      

    

When Speed Gets in the Blood

Racing is something that consumes you.  The first time I saw a race car flash past me, I was so happy, I laughed.  Toward the end of the race, I was so happy, I cried.  That was the unforgettable 2005 Indianapolis 500.  I was ten years old. 

That was the end of life as I knew it.  I’ve always loved reading, writing, theatre, and dance.  But that race awakened in me some gritty, ineffable thirst for speed.  Suddenly, this desire influenced nearly everything I did.  Even though it hasn’t been long since then in the grand scheme of things, the effect that race has had on my life is remarkable.  My pursuit of motorsports has led me to new people and brilliant experiences.

 

Racing is my passion and writing is my drug, so it’s natural for me to combine the two.  I’m writing to turn this passion into real words.  I’m writing to communicate with people who feel what I feel.  I’m writing to show how racing permeates every part of life, from the mundane to the extraordinary.  This is a place for people who understand that this sport is something deeper than a math problem—it’s an art form.

 “When speed gets in the blood, one must drive to live."            
--Rudolf Caracciola