DTV in Starke County and History at the Brickyard

First appeared on May 27th, 2009
in The Lebanon Reporter

What a long strange trip it has been indeed for Helio Castroneves. Just some sixty days ago the ear to ear grin we expect to find on the IRL’s golden boy had been slapped clean off his face by the prospect of jail time. After managing to dodge a tax evasion conviction, Helio managed to dodge much more on Sunday in route to winning his third Indianapolis 500 title (becoming just the 9th man ever to do so). For kissing the bricks Castroneves pocketed 3 million dollars which, after taxes, totals to….well we’ll leave that to Helio’s accountant; you know the expert.
Sunday’s race had it all. The return of Jim Nabors, a controversial start which included a crash on the first lap and, not to mention, a woman flirting shamelessly with history all afternoon; heck there were even marbles on the track at one point.
But Sunday was not such a spectacle for my family. In fact I found myself wondering if Starke County was perhaps the only place in the country that had already made the switch to DTV as we spent the better part of the day wrestling with rabbit ears while trying to dial in an intelligible picture. Eventually we turned to the radio and, for me, listening to the race brought back a flurry of childhood memories.
Most of my Memorial Day weekends were spent in campgrounds with family and friends. I can vividly remember the sounds of sizzling steaks and radios crackling with the voice of Paul Page furiously working to call, with great alacrity, every twist and turn at Indianapolis. Sunday I discovered that, after all these years, many sounds still stir my emotions. Hearing “Back Home Again” and the fiery whine of those cars careening three wide into turn one still make the hairs on my neck stand up. Thanks to Sirius Satellite, I thought I even heard a few sounds I never dreamt of hearing before, such as the balloons being released and the cries of tiny Venezuelan children thousands of miles away cheering “Go Milka Go!” while clutching their bilingual children’s book of the same title (available on Amazon).
Since 1911 the Indianapolis 500 has done two things. It has thrilled the country and helped Americans remember that Memorial Day is a time for honoring fallen heroes. Whether it is the preamble being read aloud, the playing of Taps or jets flying over in the missing man formation, all signs point to reminding the 400,000 strong in attendance and millions nationwide why the weekend carries such a special feeling.
According to military orders, Memorial Day is for paying tribute at and decorating the graves of those who gave their lives for their country. With this in mind, the very fact the 500 is run on the Sunday before Memorial Day shows honor and respect for the day. So it becomes all the more puzzling that the IHSAA should choose to play the opening round of softball sectionals on Memorial Day. After all along with the Fourth of July, Labor Day and Christmas, Memorial Day is one of the few days of the year where EVERYBODY has plans; plans that don’t involve going to a high school sporting event. But that is another discussion for another time.
Of course, had you followed my advice last week (mortgaging your house to bet on Helio) you wouldn’t even be reading this right now. Instead you’d be sipping Mojitos on the beach of some island where the U.S. tax laws don’t apply; who knows maybe you’d have even scored a seat poolside in a chaise lounger next to Castroneves’ accountant.

Choosing 500 winner not as easy as I make it look

First appeared on May 20th, 2009
in The Lebanon Reporter

Predicting victory in the Indianapolis 500 is not easy and with 33 drivers to choose from the average sports fan may feel overwhelmed when attempting to do so. Normally we turn to experts for the answer in cases such as this, like maybe a Vegas bookie or perhaps an Indy Racing League beat writer. Instead, in the interest of making your life easier and giving me something to write about, let me offer now my own (unpublished) Idiots Guide to choosing the 500 winner.
If speed is your bag, which makes complete sense if you are a fan of racing (and if this is really the case you may want to stop reading now), then Helio Castroneves is the clear choice since he’s the fastest qualifier in the field at 224.864 miles per hour. This of course means, provided you could squeeze your family, all their luggage and Fido into Castroneves’ Dallara Honda for Spring Break, he could get you from Indy to Miami in just over 4 hours.
Perhaps you are a person who turns to their stomach whenever confronted with difficult decisions. If this is the case then let us now consider the fine cuisine of those countries represented by drivers in this year’s field. A few solid choices like Japan’s Hideki Mutoh, the French rookie Nelson Phillipe and a pair of Canadian drivers in Paul Tracy and Alex Tagliani stand out. So what is your stomach telling you? Sushi and Sake? Maybe cheese and wine? Or how about bacon and…more bacon? For you steak lovers there is always Castroneves who hails from Brazil which, we’re only guessing here, is the birthplace of the Brazillian Steakhouse.
One less proven method yet to catch on amongst legitimate odds makers is to choose the winning driver by totaling the number of vowels in their names. Mario Moraes and Oriol Servia are amongst a host of drivers who can boast six. But nobody (except Ryan Hunter-Reay if you support those controversial school districts out there still teaching children that Y is in fact a vowel) can beat Castroneves who carries a total of seven in his name.
Former champions are perhaps the most popular method for choosing race winners. While this year’s field may not compare with what we’ve seen in the past in terms of racers who’ve hoisted the Borg Warner trophy there are four who have taken the checkered flag at Indianapolis before. Dario Franchitti, Scott Dixon and Dan Wheldon boast not only 500 victories but they are also former Indy Racing League Champions. As impressive as this is however, does it really compare to Castroneves who has won both the 500 and Dancing with the Stars? Most will surely agree that’s like comparing a Pee Wee All Star Title to the World Series.
What all of this means is that, provided you are meat-eater who does not subscribe to the taboo belief that Y is a vowel, you should take a second mortgage out on your home tomorrow morning and put it all on Castroneves to be the one sporting the milk mustache come Sunday; or at least go to the money mover and take the kids to a Brazillian Steakhouse for dinner. Who knows, it might provide a comfortable setting to have that “Y is not a vowel” talk every parent dreads so much.
This column is meant to provide general information only and is not to be construed as an endorsement of gambling nor taken as legitimate advice for those choosing to do so. For specific information concerning gambling consult a sports bookie.

Ramirez Last Great Slugger?

First appeared on May 14th, 2009
in The Lebanon Reporter

When Major League Baseball announced they had slapped outfielder Manny Ramirez with an enormous 50 game suspension for a drug violation Dodgers fans weren’t the only ones disappointed. Apologists dismiss his flaky antics as “Manny being Manny” but those card carrying members of the “Ramirez Haters Club” were disgusted when he took the field with a water bottle in his back pocket or disappeared inside the scoreboard at Fenway (while he was supposed to be playing left field). Many agree that far too often Ramirez has went out of his way to stick a finger in the eye of the one sport still played with a perceptible level of reverence. In both demanding to be traded off one of the best teams in baseball and high-fiving fans while fielding a ball in play, Ramirez has proven himself to be the closest thing to Dennis Rodman Major League Baseball can muster.
So it is with all the hullabaloo surrounding steroids in baseball we as a nation find ourselves once again captivated by it all. Try as they may some can’t shake the image of baseball commissioner Bud Selig as the crotchety cowhand burning asterisks into the hides of a seemingly never-ending string of superstars with his red hot cattle prod. Asterisks meant to stand forever as a reminder to future generations that the performance of these men wasn’t authentic.
As the doping drumbeat reached what we all hoped was a crescendo, some clung to a quiet hope that Manny Ramirez was the last real slugger in baseball. Not a juiced up modern day version of Ty Cobb, but the real deal. An athlete fueled only by pure adrenaline and the skills he’s been blessed with yet still an absolute killer capable of forcing even the craftiest of major league pitchers into the stress center or an early retirement.
As if his mercurial nature, pine tar coated helmet and frumpy uniform weren’t enough, most would guess Ramirez was born devoid of skill after seeing him scramble in the outfield for loose balls like he was barefoot on ice. But he can hit. Just ask Cubs fans. He is one of the toughest outs in baseball and, while openly loathing him, part of me wanted so much to believe his numbers were legitimate. For what true sports fan doesn’t harbor a desire to witness greatness in any given sport. Those rare few set apart by the perfect combination of genetics and mechanics. For me, until last week, that was Manny Ramirez.
Perhaps it’s simply my selfish side longing for the day I’m afghan cloaked and rocker bound telling my grandchildren about him. Their little blue eyes staring back with wide eyed wonder as if I had uttered the names Ruth, Cobb or Mantle. Of course since I Nautilus three times a day and ingest more calories than Michael Phelps and a pride of Kalahari Lion combined, the year will most likely be 2109 and my grandchildren will probably be teleported next to me on the couch in holographic form as we watch the Cubs making that dreaded long road trip to Mars.
But with Manny’s suspension of course now all of that is toast. Perhaps as a nation we need not make an effort to raise suspicion, convict or sentence Ramirez, wait Major League Baseball has already done that; rather it may be time we all looked in the mirror. It may be the problems with baseball run deeper than first believed; for it could be they serve as a harbinger of trouble within our larger culture as a whole.

First IMS Race was Unique

First appeared on May 6th, 2009
in The Lebanon Reporter

Few took note in March of 1909 when a group of investors led by Carl Fisher bought some farmland northwest of Indianapolis. Considering Indy was home to several car makers and seemed poised to be the manufacturing Mecca Detroit would ultimately become, the idea was to build an automobile testing ground. Little could the men have known what they would spawn in building their 2 ½ mile oval.
Though cars would eventually define IMS, the first race held at the “Indianapolis Motor Speed Grounds” as the Lebanon Patriot called them, had nothing to do with the automobile at all. With airplanes still in their infancy flight was most common via balloon and, thanks to international events like the Gordon Bennett, ballooning was quickly becoming fashionable. So it stood to reason when Carl Fisher announced the first event at his new speedway would be a balloon race many believed he was christening her well.
What is not widely known about that first event is that Boone County actually played a role. This was not solely because several citizens were on hand to witness it, but rather on a trial run to prepare for the race Fisher’s balloon actually landed on Addison Howard’s farm in Marion Township.
On a side note the summer of 1909 in Boone County was quite eventful. Not only did residents vote overwhelmingly to keep the county dry, a train robbery on the line connecting Colfax and Thorntown also had people buzzing. Still, despite the sophisticated reputation marking the era, many rural folk had never seen a balloon before and during their first encounter it was not uncommon for many to run inside their homes only to come out with rifles firing skyward.
Because Fisher had managed to attract competitors from all over the country, his event was touted as a National Championship Long Distance Race. Forty thousand turned out on June 5th as, under what the Lebanon Pioneer recorded as “favorable circumstances”, the aeronauts inflated their gas bags in preparation for flight. The greenish yellow New York and Fisher’s bright blue Indiana rose in contrast to the powder white clouds peppering the June sky. Though the grape red Chicago towered over them all as the tallest entry, nobody could outshine the Indianapolis and her pearl white, almost transparent bag.
Amidst thunderous applause from gentlemen sporting bowlers and women in ankle length skirts the “magic carpets”, as the Lebanon Reporter called them, lifted skyward one at a time in five minute intervals. Most reported smooth sailing, though one crew did duck death over Kentucky by dodging gunfire (shocking I know).
Gunfire from spooked farmhands aside, one of the most dangerous parts of piloting balloons at the turn of the century was the Grasshopper. These pesky devils often ate holes in the bags when they were spread out in the grass the night before a race. Admittedly I know next to nothing about balloon racing, but even I can deduct the team racing one with holes in it is most likely to lose.
While the Cleveland’s run wasn’t long (Brown County), the rest of the competitors managed to make it out of the state with some landing as far away as Alabama. So it was a grand race gave birth to a grand legend. Just a short two months later the familiar rumble of pistons and rubber would be heard echoing out of the brickyard as cars raced for the first time at IMS. This singular event would of course set the Speedway on a path to the starstruck destiny Hoosiers all have come to know after 100 years.