Top 10 moments at the Brickyard

Posted on July 23, 2014 by

Memories of the Brickyard show why the track is so revered in NASCAR

The first test took on the feel of a major event. The first qualifying session produced a shocker: as many cars went home as made the race. The ending was straight out of a storybook. Indeed, revered old Indianapolis Motor Speedway seized a spot in NASCAR’s consciousness from the very beginning, and even now, two decades later, still hasn’t let go.

That much is evident just by walking through the gates — and with the way this old speedway plays on the emotions of anyone who cares an iota about tires and fuel. The setting, the atmosphere and the history combine to make it among the most special environments that NASCAR competes in, all of it augmented by a difficulty level that typically reserves Victory Lane for the very best. For all those factors, winning at Indy in NASCAR’s premier division remains a career-defining moment, and that will never change.

We’ve certainly witnessed that in how these Brickyard moments created over the last 20 years continue to resonate, even long after the seasons in which they unfolded have passed. The great and even infamous chapters written there continue to linger, not dissipated by time, but rather burnished by the legacy of the most famous race track in the world. Sunday’s 21st running of the Brickyard race will almost certainly inspire another, given how the place magnifies the effect of both victory and loss. Until then, though, here are the top 10 memories so far.

10. Oh, brother: 1994

The Brickyard was a big deal from the beginning, to the point where it could even drive a wedge between family members. OK, maybe the Bodine brothers weren’t on the best of terms coming to Indianapolis in 1994, but events in that inaugural race didn’t help. Brett and Geoff Bodine both had strong cars that qualified in the top 10 — no small feat with 86 (!) vehicles entered — and were running 1-2 when the gloves came off. Geoff bumped Brett, who responded by ramming his older brother into the wall. In interviews after the race, it became clear that a family feud was underway. "He’s not talking to me," Geoff said. "We’ve not spoken in a couple of months," Brett added. Brett at least salvaged the day, finishing second behind some transplanted Hoosier who won the race.

9. Four-time: 2012

Oh, how Indianapolis used to beat up on poor Jimmie Johnson. Pummel him, bruise him, leaving him sitting woozy on the pit wall while his car was on fire. He won races and contended for titles from the very beginning, but a certain 2.5-mile square of asphalt proved his nemesis. He would break down, he would crash, he would hit so hard he wouldn’t remember climbing out of his car. So it was not without some irony that Johnson would go on to become one of the best ever at the same track that once so bedeviled him. Johnson’s dominant Indianapolis victory in 2012 was the fourth of his career, and made him one of just five men to triumph as many times on the venue’s oval layout. "I’m at a loss for words," he said afterward. Those who had watched him struggle there a decade earlier could understand why.

8. Speed trap: 2009

While it wasn’t quite the whipping he put on the field to win the Indianapolis 500 in 2000, it was close. Juan Pablo Montoya was cruising toward his first oval-track victory on his best layout in 2009, having led 116 of the 134 laps contested before he pulled in for what should have been his final pit stop of the day. No other driver was close — until Montoya was flagged for speeding on pit road with 26 laps to go. Understandably, the Colombian was furious. "I was not speeding. I swear on my children and my wife," he vented over the radio. NASCAR said otherwise, and a pass-through penalty dropped Montoya back to an eventual 11th-place finish. He would let another slip away the next year, when pit strategy and a crash derailed an effort that led 86 laps. No wonder he’s coming back with Roger Penske this week.

7. A wreck and a rear: 2002

The feud between Kurt Busch and Jimmy Spencer may have started over Bristol and met its end at Michigan, but its most public flashpoint came at Indianapolis in the 2002 edition of the Brickyard, where Mr. Excitement exacted some payback by driving straight through the No. 97 car. Busch’s reaction, though, remains the most memorable part of the entire incident — the future series champion climbed out of his car, nonchalantly leaned against the side with his arm crossed, stalked down the banking as he saw Spencer’s car approaching, and waved his arms wildly. The next time Spencer circled by, Busch bent over and motioned to his rear end — short-track shorthand for "send that guy to the back." Unfortunately, all he received was a summons to the NASCAR hauler for his efforts.

6. Awesome again: 2002

That same race produced a somewhat unexpected and emotional winner, as Bill Elliott capped his career with a victory at the most prestigious track to have eluded him. Driving for Ray Evernham and with young son Chase in attendance, Awesome Bill was awesome one more time, leading 93 laps to record what would prove the penultimate victory of his time behind the wheel. In an era where young stars were emerging and the Brickyard winner often forecast the series champion, the 47-year-old Elliott was something of a throwback, even though he had won the most recent race at Pocono. "It feels like it’s taken me a lifetime to get here," he said after overtaking Rusty Wallace with 11 laps remaining. Elliott had won so much, yet Indy nearly brought him to tears. Such is the power of the Brickyard.

5. Testing the waters: 1993

How big is the Brickyard? So big that even the first official stock-car test there in 1993 proved one of the most anticipated events on that season’s schedule, and to this day remains a highlight of NASCAR’s era at the track. In April of 1993, Tony George and Bill France Jr. jointly announced the next season’s inaugural race, and in August of that year 31 teams showed up for a two-day test session. Fans lined the streets outside Indianapolis to see the NASCAR haulers arrive, and nearly 50,000 people watched from the stands. "This is a phenomenal happening," Darrell Waltrip called it. Bill Elliott set the top speed, Kenny Wallace crashed, and everyone was awed and impressed. "It’s a pretty neat thing," no less that Dale Earnhardt called it. The stage had been set, and one year later the main event commenced.

4. Winning in the rain: 1995

It was a rainy weekend that year in Indianapolis, with the remnants of Hurricane Erin threating to push the Brickyard back a day. That Saturday afternoon crept on — yes, back then the race was run on a Saturday — and forecasts looked grim until a break in the weather allowed the event to begin late in the afternoon. Dale Earnhardt — who famously battled Rusty Wallace to become the first driver to test on the track a few years earlier — led the final 28 laps to again edge his old rival in a thriller. Problem was, only the people on hand saw it, because ABC had extended beyond its broadcast window and turned programming over to local affiliates. Fans were not amused. "Everybody’s mad," one North Carolina TV staffer told the Associated Press. Except for the Intimidator, that is.

3. Kissing the bricks: 1996

Although it feels like it’s been part of Brickyard lore forever, Indianapolis’ most famous NASCAR tradition actually didn’t begin until the third race at the rectangular track. And it was the idea of crew chief Todd Parrott, who oversaw Dale Jarrett’s first victory there in 1996, and then thought — why not kiss the famed yard of bricks that comprises the start/finish line? So Parrott, Jarrett, and the rest of the Robert Yates Racing No. 88 team did just that, and a ritual was born. Ricky Rudd did it the next year, then Jeff Gordon, then Jarrett and Parrott again in 1999, and soon even Indianapolis 500 winners were following suit. In the years since, kissing the bricks has become one of NASCAR’s most enduring traditions. After 400 miles, those bricks probably taste like dirt and tire rubber. But to the winner, nothing tastes better.

2. Career climber: 2005

Tony Stewart lived to win at Indianapolis. He grew up south of the city in Columbus, cut his racing teeth east in Rushville, and always returned to the corner of 16th and Georgetown as if pulled by force of gravity. But five runs at the Indy 500 produced a top finish of fifth, and his first six attempts at the Brickyard resulted in more strong efforts capped by only frustration at the end. He once termed it "hell week" because of all the pressures and demands on him. That ended in 2005, when Stewart passed Kasey Kahne with 11 laps remaining, and recorded an emotional victory that propelled him to his second title. Stewart celebrated by emulating open-wheel driver Helio Castroneves and climbing the fence to the flagstand, and claiming what still ranks among the biggest checkered flags of his career.

1. Hometown hero: 1994

No question, there were some who initially bristled — a young open-wheel driver named Stewart among them — at the idea of stock cars on a race track which, to that point, was only open in the month of May. Those first few NASCAR races at Indianapolis were even run on Saturday, because the next day was considered the sacred domain of the open-wheel machines. All it took was Jeff Gordon, standing in Victory Lane and basking in the cheers of hundreds of thousands of fans, to blow it all away. If there was one moment when NASCAR took its biggest and boldest step toward true national acceptance, it was Aug. 6, 1994, when America’s brightest young racer conquered the world’s best-known track.

That is no overstatement. For NASCAR, that first Brickyard was a seminal event on par with the first flag-to-flag television broadcast of the Daytona 500 in 1979. Although the sport had raced all around the country for decades, it still fought the misconception that it was a regional circuit. That canard was dismissed for good after Gordon beat Ernie Irvan in a thriller, and a native Californian who had adopted nearby Pittsboro as his hometown was cemented as a Hoosier legend. "I took an extra lap so I could wipe away the tears," Gordon said then. He was hardly the only winner that day, though. He carried his entire sport to a well-earned victory as well.

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Posted on July 23, 2014 by

Drivers reminisce on chaotic 1994 Brickyard 400 qualifying

Everybody knows how it ended, with members of the Rainbow Warrior crew hopping over the pit wall and into one another’s arms, Jeff Gordon rolling into a Victory Lane so choked with people there was hardly room for the car, and the future four-time champion standing with both arms raised. But how it all started — well, that’s another story altogether. Because the race just to get into that inaugural NASCAR event at Indianapolis Motor Speedway two decades ago was every bit as frenzied as the race to win it.

Enough cars showed up to fill two full starting fields. Drivers came out of retirement. Open-wheelers slid into vehicles with fenders. Qualifying took hours, and practice was choked like midtown Manhattan during the evening commute. Everybody who could scrounge up a race car, it seemed, wanted to be a part of it. The prestige was massive. The money was huge. The pressure was enormous. With 83 teams trying to wedge their way into that first Brickyard 400, just making the race was a victory.

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"There were cars everywhere," remembered Bobby Labonte, who would go on to finish 16th.

"It was very chaotic," recalled Rick Mast, who won the pole.

For stock-car drivers, qualifying at Indianapolis has always been an adventure — the notoriously temperature-sensitive track has long left competitors watching the sky for passing clouds that could mean the difference in 10 rows on the starting grid, critical on a narrow layout where most winners come from the front. That process takes on a new wrinkle this weekend, when group qualifying debuts on the 2.5-mile rectangle. But from a NASCAR perspective, nothing will ever beat 1994, and the crazy scramble which entailed enough entries to fill two races at Indianapolis, much less one.

Everyone knew it would be a big deal. That first Brickyard promised a huge payday, to the point where last-place finisher Jimmy Spencer would earn more in purse winnings at Indianapolis ($21,825) than Ricky Rudd would collect for finishing fifth the next week at Watkins Glen ($20,875). But the history-making aspect of that first NASCAR race, coming at a track which prior to that point had hosted only one event each year, turned grizzled drivers into little kids on Christmas eve. Everybody wanted to be a part of it.

"You’re right in the middle of the explosion, and you didn’t even know it," Mast said, referring to the tremendous growth NASCAR experienced around that time. "The Indy thing was just part of that explosion. And in the year leading up to it, that’s what it was all about — the Indy race. And I’m talking drivers. I’ve never seen that much anticipation from drivers. … So when we got there, everybody who had a race car, or ever had a race car, or ever dreamed of having a race car, showed up with a race car."

Did they ever. The great lion A.J. Foyt, who had been retired for over a year, was lured back to give it a go. So was Charlie Glotzbach, who had set that first speed record at Talladega back in 1969. So was Ken Bouchard, who hadn’t started a premier-series event in five years. The ageless Hershel McGriff came from Oregon, the ageless James Hylton from South Carolina. Butch Gilliland, father of current Sprint Cup Series driver David, entered the race. So did open-wheelers Geoff Brabham, Danny Sullivan and Davy Jones, none of whom had ever raced a stock car, and Gary Bettenhausen, who hadn’t raced one in two decades. Regional and touring series drivers showed up like deer flushed from the woods.

There were so many entries — a total of 83 cars would take qualifying laps — that the NASCAR regulars began to worry about just making the race. Understandably so, given that only three provisional spots were available at the time, and not even past series champions were guaranteed a spot.

"I was very nervous at the race, because I was one of those having to make the race on time at Joe Gibbs Racing," said Dale Jarrett, who won the event twice and will call Sunday’s race for ESPN. "… I’ll be quite honest — I was as nervous in qualifying as I’d ever been. I wanted to be a part of that first Brickyard 400. To be quite honest, I think it’s probably the most loose and out of control I ever drove in a qualifying lap that I didn’t crash. But we made it, and that was important. It was just a huge weight lifted off our shoulders whenever we ran the time. We ended up (14th). It was tremendous, but the pressure was immense."

Ricky Rudd could relate. "It had a lot of people concerned about making the race, people that would normally make the race," said the 1997 winner. "Obviously at that time provisional spots were laid out a little bit differently. There were quite a few Indy teams that put stock cars there for the first time — never been in stock car races, but fielded a car for the first Brickyard 400. It was a little intimidating knowing how much pressure was on qualifying. Definitely it wasn’t just about a starting place, it was about making the race. A lot of guys were concerned."

The setting only added to the anxiety. Then as now Indianapolis has its own unique set of policies and procedures, with an expansive cadre of yellow-shirted security officers in place to enforce them. There were certain gates to be used, certain passes which were required, and certain rules to be followed — for instance, cars had to be pushed into the garage area rather than driven in. "Intimidation by the yellow shirt guys, intimidation by the race track, intimidation by can you make the race," Labonte called the experience. All this with 83 cars piloted by 83 nervous drivers, many of whom weren’t exactly sure where to go.

"Heck, we’d never done anything like that," Mast added. "Half the time you’d forget and come in with the motor running, and they’d come down and chastise you. You’d have cars running everywhere, and pulling out in front of you, and you’d try to get on the race track and there’s 50 cars sitting there waiting to go. Everything was like a pack of dogs chasing a piece of meat, and nobody sure of where to go. That to me added more to the confusion part than just the sheer numbers."

Still, the steer numbers were overwhelming. Kyle Petty told reporters on the scene that the track was "too crowded to practice." Qualifying itself was a marathon. "It felt like it took a week," Mast said. The first driver out was H.B. Bailey, a Houston native who had made just one premier-series start the past six years, at just after 3 p.m. local time. Mast went out a half-hour later in 13th, and laid down a lap of 172.414 mph that bumped Dale Earnhardt off the provisional pole. With still over 50 cars remaining to go, the pride of Rockbridge Baths, Va., headed back to the garage area.

"I finally just laid down on the dadgum bench and took a nap," he remembered. "To hell with this, man. Everybody’s walking around nervous. ‘Y’all leave me alone. Lord a-mercy. I can’t run another lap. We’ve done all we can do. Just chill out a little bit.’ So I just went over to the bench and laid down. Took a nap, woke up, and they were still qualifying."

That first day of qualifying, 70 cars made attempts. Rick Bickle was among the 20 who secured spots in the event. "Many times I have seen crews exhibit far less joy after winning a race," wrote Charlotte Observer reporter Tom Higgins. NASCAR regulars like Terry Labonte, Harry Gant, Darrell Waltrip and Petty were among those who would have to try again the next day, when 54 drivers made second-round attempts. Foyt snagged the 40th starting spot, the final one awarded on speed. The third and final provisional went to Mike Case, then the points leader in what is now K&N Pro Series West. The last driver to try and qualify was also the first — Bailey, who again came up short.

Dozens went home. Bettenhausen and Jones. McGriff and Hylton. Bouchard, Glotzbach and Gilliland. P.J. Jones and Stan Fox. Dick Trickle, Ron Hornaday, and Randy LaJoie. The pole winner Mast earned $50,000 and a new van, both of which he split with owner Richard Jackson. And the next day in the driver’s meeting, all 43 fortunate starters received a stern message from NASCAR chairman Bill France Jr. — who might have been specifically addressing Mast and Earnhardt, the two men who would comprise the front row.

"He was looking right at me and Earnhardt, but was talking to everybody," Mast remembered. "He said, ‘Boys, when they drop that green flag and all y’all get down in the first turn, do not screw up. We’re not coming up here and embarrassing ourselves in the first turn of the first lap at Indianapolis.’"

They didn’t — in fact the exact opposite happened, and a day capped by Gordon’s dramatic and popular victory helped raise NASCAR to a new level. It was more than the sport could ever hope for, though for Mast, the afternoon remains bittersweet. "My car was just perfection then. Just perfection," he recalled. That was, until the fourth turn of the second lap, when he lost a cylinder and had to race the remainder of the day with seven instead of eight. He finished a deflating 22nd. "That kind of supersedes everything for me," he said.

And yet the legacy of that weekend remains. Even now, two decades later, Mast estimates that once a month he opens the mailbox to find a memento from that inaugural Brickyard race along with an autograph request. "It still comes up all the time," he said. Understandable, given that coming out on top of perhaps the craziest, most chaotic, and most nerve-rattling qualifying session in modern NASCAR history was quite an accomplishment in itself.

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