Dan Wheldon: An initial reaction
IndyCar commentary — By Steph Wallcraft on October 18, 2011 1:52 pmI’ve been putting off writing this. It’s taken me this long to figure out what I could possibly add to the discussion of Sunday’s events at Las Vegas Motor Speedway that would be even the slightest bit meaningful or valuable.
One thing I’m certain I can’t add to in a useful way is the ongoing tribute to Dan’s life and career. A great many people who are far more qualified to do so than I am have already shared many thoughts and memories of Dan. I encourage everyone to seek out the works of Robin Miller, John Oreovicz, Marshall Pruett, and the other professionals who have worked with Dan and analyzed his career for many years and can therefore offer more thorough insight and sentiment regarding his life as a racer and as a person.
But after reflecting for a while, I realized that there is one way that I can provide useful commentary. The outpouring of emotion and grief over the last couple of days has hammered home the point to me that many of today’s INDYCAR fans – particularly the younger ones – are experiencing the loss of a star driver for the first time.
Others of us, on the other hand, have been through this before. That’s not to say it makes the mourning process any easier – nothing does. But it does mean we’ve found the answers to some of the questions that are inevitably asked at times like this.
And all of those questions start with the same word: Why?
Why do racers do what they do when they know full well that every time they climb into their cockpits there’s a not-insignificant chance that they’ll never climb out?
Why do members of the media cover it when they know that there will always be awful days like Sunday where they have no choice but to report the unthinkable?
Why do fans buy tickets to watch, ask for photos, and line up for autographs from people who insist on putting themselves deliberately into harm’s way for nothing more than sport, a fleeting couple of hours of thrill a few times a year?
Why do we all as participants in and observers of this sport endorse actions that can lead to such devastation that leaves us all reeling for such a very long time?
I do believe in God, but I’ve never found much solace in speculating on how things like this fit into God’s plan. I’ve also never particularly cared for the often-repeated statement, “At least he died doing what he loved.” That’s all well and good for the driver who’s gone, but it’s cold comfort for those he leaves behind.
But in my first time dealing with this painful circumstance after Greg Moore passed away, I eventually found my deepest comfort in reaching an understanding of the cycle of motorsport. Yes, a racer’s death can be seen as pointless when it looks like nothing more than a fatal error in the pursuit of an otherwise-meaningless adrenaline-fueled thrill. But the cycle of racing goes so much deeper.
See, today’s crop of racers was inspired by the generations that came before, and the previous generation by the ones that came before that, by having their imaginations captivated by the unbridled, limitless pursuit of a dream. Racing is the one sport in the world that most delivers the lowest of lows and the highest of highs, and a select few are brave enough and talented enough and insane enough to want to become a part of that roller coaster and attempt to etch their places in history.
Another, larger group is enthralled by that raw desire, that base human ambition, and despite being unable to actively participate is equally captivated by the pursuit but must settle merely for the opportunity to observe. We live vicariously through the racers as they put everything they have, everything they are, on the line to achieve the pinnacles of sport and of the human experience. And while these racers undoubtedly do it for themselves, they also – at least partially – do it for our benefit so that we may in some way feel we’ve been part of what they’ve achieved.
Unfortunately, in the pursuit of that dream, some racers lose their lives.
But those of us who get to observe, who become hopelessly captivated, for whom those racers risk life and limb – if we dismiss what we grow so quickly to love so deeply and walk away at a time when the lowest of lows is found, then we do a grave disservice to those who we have asked to give their all. We do a disservice to Greg, we do a disservice to Tony, and to Paul, and to Gonzalo, and to the many, many others who have come before – and now, we would do a disservice to Dan, too.
These men have all strapped themselves into these machines that are capable of such devastation so that we can bear witness to the ultimate in sporting achievement, to the ultimate in the human experience. If we walk away when that goes awry, we render their risks and their sacrifices meaningless.
Indeed, the greatest honor we can do to these racers is to carry on. Racers may be lost these days with far less frequency than they once were, but even in the modern era, motorsport manages to carry on in spite of it all. And INDYCAR will carry on today. Dan would demand it – Dan does demand it. As many people have observed, no one loved INDYCAR racing more than Dan Wheldon. The greatest service we can do to his memory is to do everything we can to ensure that INDYCAR racing lives on and to make it the best it can possibly be.
I’m intensely aware of the fact that Dan was my age and that he had a son who is only a couple of months younger than my daughter who will never remember his father. The enormity of that loss hasn’t fully impacted on me yet, and I’m not sure that it ever will. But I’m also very aware that Dan left us while actively working to improve INDYCAR’s position in the world of motorsport as he tested the new car and prepared himself to become the public face of the Series.
Dan has laid the groundwork such that INDYCAR can carry on. It must carry on. Thanks to Dan Wheldon, 2012 will herald a new era for INDYCAR, a fresh start. And in his memory, having the entire racing community band together to take INDYCAR to the greatness that it deserves is the only appropriate way to honor his memory.
Rest in peace, Dan. We will all be forever indebted to you. And I think I speak for all of us when I swear that we will do everything in our power to ensure that we never let you down.
Tags: Dan Wheldon
Beautifully written, Steph. It is not a time to step away, but as you state, to keep on with what Dan was doing. I have been through this many times with many of my heroes,beginning with Bill Vukovich. We love the sport, we know the risks. e must painfully accept the consequences and keep going.
It’s hard to accept. Gratitude is all I can begin to offer.
Awesome sentiments. As a racing fan, I think you captured a lot of our emotions. I would never walk away – if anything when something like this happens, we as fans need to band together to make the sport stronger and to lift up the drivers so they know we are behind them.
You and Steph are absolutely right, and I have faith that the fans, the drivers and everyone who is a part of Indycar racing will indeed band together to support the sport, even more than we have in the past.
Steph,
I am still wrestling and struggling with the question of can (should) I continue to be a fan. I haven’t answered it in my own head yet. I can’t answer it either way yet. But thank you for writing this. I have bookmarked this and I will re-read it again. Honestly, the thing I am most conflicted with right now is how this affects my sons who I have ingrained/almost brainwashed into Indycar fans and now I have to answer their questions about Dan who they loved.
Thanks again for writing this as I continue to struggle with this.
Rick, I am 100% in line with your comment.
Steph’s points are terrific, well-presented, and compelling, yet I too struggle with the fact that from one perspective it’s possible to see that Dan died violently, publicly, and left behind a very young family from what amounts to little more than a commercialized form of entertainment. I’m not sure this is something I can, in good conscience, fully support anymore.
I understand there are risks to everything, that he and his wife, fully aware of the risks, willfully and enthusiastically embraced them.
I further confess an attraction to that thrilling action and speed that Indycar racing provides. As I reflect, it may be the singlemost reason why I find no enjoyment in watching NASCAR or many other forms of motorsport. I am one of those vicarious fans of which Steph speaks and was in attendance two weeks ago in Kentucky to witness what was one of the most exhilarating moments of sport I’ve ever experienced. I don’t now discount that experience, yet I also can’t justify it at the cost of life and limb.
Certainly I would never say that we all must reconsider our support of this sport, because everyone is unique. I just don’t now know, with a deeper appreciation of the consequences of those risks, I will ever find the same joy in it again.
I think it’s fair to consider that not all of us who were fans up to Sunday afternoon will come through this fans of this sport in the future.
If I’m totally honest with myself, I’m not certain I’ll be with those who continue. Either way, I will need to be OK with that decision.
Steph,
Exactly. Beautiful. I want to remind folks that, even inthe face of shear terror 10 years ago, we took back to the skies, undaunted by what happened. Because not doing so would be a disservice to those on United 93. Same thing applies here, and you are right, the drivers and families, teams, league officials and most important, the fans need to continue and carry on the tradition. To not allow those who came before us die in vain, otherwise, the human experience then fails to live up to it’s promise: to live life!
I am just finishing reading a book, “Just Believe”, in which the main character must deal with the loss of his 10-year-old son. after much struggle he begins to live and love again. He is helped by messengers in his recovery.
When his life is going well again, the messengers introduce him to other messengers who teach him the ten Principles of the Message.
I have just finished reading about the fifth and sixth principles. They are enthusiasm and overcoming adversity.
Dan Wheldon certainly had the enthusiasm and sure did a great job this season of overcoming adversity.
Now INDYCAR and all who care about it need to regain enthusiasm for carrying on and doing it well and with gusto and joy.
There is and will be great adversity to overcome.
Often in life it takes the death of someone who has stepped to the forefront and proven to be a special leader to really bring together others to work together to get done what needs to be done.
Nothing can ever compensate the Wheldon family for they loss they have suffered but if the INDYCAR community pulls together, in time there may be a good answer to the question so many are asking – Why?
I was thinking this evening of how Wheldon’s death has affected me differently than Senna’s in 1994, Moore’s in 1999 and Earnhardt’s in 2001. For some reason, this time it has felt different and I’ve reacted differently than I did in 94, 99, and 01. Eventually, it came to me. I realized that with Senna and Earnhardt, the deaths were those of men I grew up watching race and looked up to as racing heroes. In Moore’s case, I was closer to his age; his death made me think about my own mortality. With Wheldon it is much different, this time I was older. Instead of looking up to Wheldon, he someone I’d watched grow and develop as a racer and a man. I liked what he had become. How very different it has been.
i would like to say dan will always be the best driver in the world i send my best to his family and friends too
i don’t often leave comments like this . i may be in the minority……as a matter of fact, i’m sure of it. i cryed for about ten minutes. that’s it. then….i began searching for all of the pictures of this accident i could find. it was exciting….horrifying….self absorbed…..and frightening. i knew dan. not so well as others but nonetheless i knew him. i know all of them without ever having met them. they are me. i am them. but for a twist of fate i would be them. i’ve never wanted to do anything in life more than be an indycar driver. that…..will never happen. not because of dans’ accident….not because i struggle with the death of a driver.
because i cannot fit in the cars. my body is not condusive to the sport. be assured…..if i could get in the car i would. even now. the DESIRE is that great. i’d do it for free. no questions asked. i could only hope to die that way. that will be one of the great tragedies of being me. KNOWING that i will not go the way i want to. we all know that dan didn’t want to depart his wife…..his boys…..his career that has sprang from nothingness to a fruitful contract with michael andretti for the second time.
we all know this. what most people don’t know or wish to acknowledge is that these things are an afterthought to a driver. it was this way for dan too. suzie knew it. she accepted it. i promise you right now she isn’t calling for the heads of open wheel. she isn’t going around talking about how we shouldn’t race on ovals anymore. she is the wife of a racer. i love american open wheel racing. i love everyone who participates in it. i loved it the day we lost dan and i’ll love it tomorrow too. if this sport is too much for you…..if you don’t have the stomach for it, turn away. please.
we could only hope to make the impression that dan made. he won his second 500 this year in an unbelievable fashion and that has cemented him in history. he lost his life in a completely predictable way….driving 200 mph with his fellow pilots to pursue what made dan….himself. i WILL NOT second guess that.
Thanks for another great article, Steph.
I have been a race fan since I was a kid growing up in the 60’s. As a teenager in the 70s’ I lost my 3 absolute favorite drivers in just over 2 years. Swede Savage, Peter Revson and Mark Donuhue were my heroes! Losing them hurt like hell. As a result, I have never had a favorite driver since then – or at least, a favorite driver in the sense that I allow myself to become emotionally attached to them, their triumphs, failures and deaths.
I have talked to scores of drivers over the years, and enjoyed making a brief connection with them, and finding out what they were thinking about their chances that weekend, or about races they had run previously. I have remained somewhat aloof in my inner feelings towards them, knowing that suddenly and tragically, they could be taken from us any time they are on the track.
Don’t get me wrong – losing drivers always hurts. Watching the legendary Ayrton Senna die on that black weekend in Imola had an unreal quality about it. He projected that same aura of invincibility that Jimmy Clark had, and it was hard to comprehend that he was gone.
Losing Greg Moore at Fontana hurt – Greg was like the lovable, fun loving kid brother everyone wishes they had. And losing such a young talent, who had such a bright future in front of him was so hard to fathom.
Losing Dale Earnhardt, Sr. – The gold standard of NASCAR grit, toughness and never-say-die attitide, whose win at all costs, down home attitude won him legions of diehard fans. He also had that aura about him like he was invincible.
For me, losing them and others over the years was tough, but easily managed from an emotional standpoint.
An act of compassion and kindness by Dan Wheldon that I witnessed at Infineon in 2009 made me feel like I did when I lost the heroes of my youth …….
My older brother were wandering around the garages during a break in the action, when we stepped inside Wheldons garage for a momemnt. Wheldon walked up and struck up a conversation for a couple of minutes like we were old friends. As we parted ways, a lady came up and asked if Dan could take a photo with her son, who was in a wheel chair and obviously very handicapped. Dan hugged the kid, who obviously idolized Dan, took some photos and chatted with the kid and his family.
We walked down the garage a little ways and when we came back a few minutes later, Dan was still talking and laughing with the kid and his family!
That spoke volumes to me about Dan Wheldon the man – that he would unselfishly spend the time with a handicapped kid, who would obviously never have any semblance of a normal, active life. I could see Dan had a genuine empathy for the kid, and enjoyed the oppotunity to spend the time with someone less fortunate than himself. As great as a racer he was, he was a far greater human being.
I hope that kid, wherever he is, is not taking this too hard.
This is far and above my favorite memory of not just him, but of any racer. That is why this hurts so much.
Thanks for that wonderful memory, Dan.
Thank you for sharing that wonderful memory with the rest of us, Doug.
No problem, DZ.
8 or 9 years ago, the first few times I saw Wheldon on TV being interviewed, I thought, ‘What a cocky so-and-so!” After a while, I realized that he was highly was enthusiastic – he loved what he was doing, he loved life and he loved being around people and talking with them. What I saw at Infineon that day confirmed it.