Just how far Formula One has travelled in America can be judged by the kamikaze events of 20 years ago.
In contrast stands the inevitable razzmatazz of next weekend’s race in Miami, where the glitzy grid will be so heaving you can barely shuffle along. Even Donald J Trump may put in an appearance.
But to the story of Indianapolis in 2005 and grand prix racing’s most embarrassing day.
The backdrop was this. Formula One and America had always been uneasy cousins. Much of the emphasis that side of the Pond was on muscular closed-wheel racing. NASCAR was king. F1 was seen, so far as it was considered at all, as an eccentric European intrusion. And too anaemic a one at that.
Not that there was not shared history to cherish. F1’s initial foray into America dated back to the first world championship in 1950. Only Silverstone and Monaco came before that race at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway, where rain brought a premature end to proceedings 138 of the 200 laps in.
Twelve US venues have played host to F1 in all. Some excelled better in the hyping than in the delivery. Take the two Caesars Palace races of the early 1980s, which were staged, err, in the casino’s car park. The Las Vegas Strip it wasn’t.
This is the story of Indianapolis in 2005 and grand prix racing’s most embarrassing day
Formula One and the US had a complicated relationship, but Bernie Ecclestone took it back to its home in 2000 for its first race in the country for nine years
Mari Hulman George was chairman of Indianapolis Motor Speedway and father of Tony George, but denied entry
Bernie Ecclestone could be contemptuous of America. ‘A big island,’ he once told me. ‘They are a little bit backwards because they don’t know what’s going on in the rest of the world.’
Nonetheless, he knew the vast continent was a market of riches he had to crack. By the time he re-established a race in its historic home in Indianapolis in 2000 there had been no race in the States since Phoenix nine years earlier.
The return did not start well. Asked by a full-of-beans American journalist how much the prize money was, Ecclestone barely looked at his questioner as he replied with trademark brevity: ‘None of your business.’
Incidentally, Indianapolis was much liked by the travelling circus, and local business boomed. One of the most evocative of hotels was the Canterbury, where Mike Tyson had raped an 18-year-year-old pageant contestant called Desiree Washington. The establishment has since been refurbished – and renamed Le Meridien, in a case of identity burglary – but then it was all dark wood and faded grandeur.
St Elmo’s was one of Indy’s great steakhouses. Oceanaire was the best seafood joint in town.
But the warmth of those eateries was not reflected at the giant track, including to those who called it home. Mari Hulman George was chairman of Indianapolis Motor Speedway and father of Tony George, the president. Yet when this grande dame tried to gain entry into her private box to watch the race, she was rebuffed. She didn’t have the Ecclestone-issued pass. ‘But I own the place,’ she remonstrated. ‘Not today, you don’t,’ she was told.
The fateful weekend in 2005 began with a typical Ecclestone aphorism. Asked his take on Danica Patrick, who as a female rookie had recently finished fourth in the Indianapolis 500, a race so dangerous not every F1 driver would even countenance entering it, he said: ‘I’ve got one of those wonderful ideas that women should be dressed in white like all other domestic appliances.’ Cue outrage.
Although the famous Brickyard track had been modified for F1’s arrival – the circuit was situated within the famous oval – a steeply banked right-hander took you into the start-finish straight. At eye-watering speeds, it was too abrasive for the seven teams shod on Michelin tyres. The Bridgestone rubber used by the remaining three – Ferrari, Jordan and Minardi – could hack it.
Asked his take on Danica Patrick, who as a female rookie, Ecclestone suggested ‘women should be dressed in white like all other domestic appliances’
It caused outrage, with Ecclestone also telling American journalists that it was ‘none of their business’ how much the prize money was
Fears over the race, meanwhile, began to grow when Ralf Schumacher’s left-rear tyre blew on his Toyota at 180mph, leaving him out of the race.
FIA president at the time, Max Mosley, refused to countenance a race containing the Michelin-cars for insurance reasons
Fears crystallised in practice on Friday when Ralf Schumacher’s left-rear tyre blew on his Toyota at 180mph. He was out of the race.
Pandemonium erupted. Max Mosley, the FIA president, was home in London. He refused to countenance a race containing the Michelin-cars for insurance reasons. Ecclestone, flitting from garage to garage in search of a resolution, suggested a chicane be inserted. Again, Mosley said ‘no’. He was supported by Ferrari team principal Jean Todt who was unbudging in his insistence that the race go ahead in its existing format. He refused to enter negotiations.
Indianapolis’s main grandstand is the biggest in motor racing and it was packed that Sunday. TV audiences, such as they were, tuned in. Jarno Trulli led the cars out for the formation lap. The Toyota man had taken pole. But as he reached the final corner that had ensnared Schumacher he peeled into the pits on the way to the start. He was followed by the 13 other Michelin competitors.
Only six cars started. The six from the trio of teams running on Bridgestone tyres. Michael Schumacher, who qualified fifth, won – his only victory of the season, and a hollow one. Ferrari team-mate Rubens Barrichello finished second.
In the stand, hollering fans stood to yell their anger at the farce unfolding before them. Most left early. Several turned up at the paddock to vent astonishment and disgust. Police intervened to keep team personnel safe.
The race returned the following two years to muted interest. Then Formula One and America split for five years.
I was in Austin, Texas, on the eve of the inaugural race there in 2012 with its mastermind Bobby Epstein and his fellow founder, the late billionaire businessman Red McCombs.
The phone went in the lobby of the Four Seasons hotel, above Lady Bird Lake. It was Ecclestone from his office in London, a day before he flew out. ‘How are preparations going?’ he asked. Very well, he was reassured.
Indianapolis’s main grandstand is the biggest in motor racing and it was packed that Sunday
Jarno Trulli led cars out for the formation lap, before turning into the pits at the end of the lap
He was joined by the 13 other Michelin competitors, leaving just six card on the starting grid
Michael Schumacher came fifth and won the race – his only victory of the 2005 season
And they got it right. Still, that track south-east of downtown, amid religious billboards and green fields, remains one of the best on the calendar, for its racing and as an event to attend live. Austin is a lovely little university city with its reputation for live music and a quirky vibe.
Ecclestone and Epstein are still in touch even though the old boy is no longer running the sport he nurtured. That responsibility passed, in 2017, to Liberty Media, the US conglomerate that promised to render every race a ‘Super Bowl’.
They were abetted by their best decision, namely to hitch themselves to Netflix’s Drive to Survive series. It transformed F1’s popularity in America (and elsewhere). The depiction of paddock life, though sometimes manipulated, transported the sport beyond middle-aged petrol-head blokes into a soap opera for both sexes, young and old.
There are now three American races, including Miami, from 2022, and Las Vegas, which launched the following year. Austin is the heartiest.
Miami has triumphed despite not being based on the plot of real estate Liberty had hoped. Residents’ objections put paid to dreams of a glamorous backdrop. It is instead in the Miami Dolphins’ Hard Rock Stadium, 16 miles north of downtown in the less salubrious Miami Gardens area.
Still, the organisers do it brilliantly. After teething problems in year one – patrons paying £10,000 for luxury hospitality were left with cold, poor, or no food – a new Paddock Club has been built. Bars and restaurants serve gratis drinks and food outside the garages. Team hospitality suites have been resituated on the stadium’s AstroTurf. The only problem there is the static electricity.
A race-day crowd of 90,000 is expected, Donald or no Donald. He was there last year, before he became ‘No 47’, pumping his fist in front of a receptive crowd 70 miles along the Atlantic coast from his Mar-a-Lago Neverland.
So if Formula One is cracking America, with TV audiences hitting new heights each year, will the star-spangled roster be increased to four or even five races?
Ecclestone would call Bobby Epstein in 2012 to ask how preparations for Austin were going – they got it right
There are now three US races a year in the sport, with Austin the heartiest of the trio
A race day crowd of 90,000 is expected is expected, whether Donald Trump turns up or not
President Trump may be in attendance, while the glitzy grid will be so heaving you can barely shuffle along
No, I was told last weekend by Stefano Domenicali, chief executive of F1. Three is enough, he thought.
Other nations are queuing up to knock at his door. Bangkok is a strong candidate, possibly the loudest knocker of them all. Political turmoil in South Korea, meanwhile, has pushed Seoul’s advanced ambitions into abeyance for now.
Manhattan would be attractive to Liberty but, as with London, only if it were slap, bang in the middle of the city’s famous landmarks. That won’t happen in New York or London this side of lasting peace in the Middle East.
California? Yes, it would take the sport to the country’s western shore. But the vegan capital of America is full of environmental zealots. Forget it. You can’t break wind there without a licence.
It doesn’t matter, anyway. Formula One has increasing swathes of Americans curious and drawn in, and that’s a state of affairs light years away from 2005 and the race that never was.
