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emailBy: Marshall Pruett | 10 hours ago

HATE: Route 66 To Nowhere

The post mortem on McLaren’s unfathomable failure to qualify for the Indianapolis 500 with Fernando Alonso made for a stunning read. All of the forgotten, overlooked, and mismanaged items formed a steaming pile of ineptitude in May, and for those who were alarmed by the outcome, I wish you could have joined me on pit lane a few weeks earlier during the April 24 Open Test at IMS.

The warning signs were clear for all to see that day. Once the rain-shortened test was over, I told all those around me that, having spent a significant portion of my life on pit lane as a crew member, the shortcomings on display within McLaren’s brand-new Indy 500 effort weren’t the kind that could be fixed overnight. After standing in their pit box for a good three hours, the ongoing mayhem wavered between comical and depressing. People and equipment were everywhere, but a team, however, was nowhere to be found.
Shambolic. Image by Abbott/LAT

Plenty of talent was recruited for the program, and yet, the test was an affirmation of how money and shiny assets weren’t enough to make the show. Hours were lost as an electronics specialist, one whose background included many years in IndyCar, but hadn’t been involved in the series for a decade or more, was tasked with finding a problem that stalled the car during Alonso’s out-lap and each time each time attempted to pull away for more exploratory laps in the new Chevy-powered chassis. Thrown into the mix with no time to master the various boxes and systems and data monitoring software, the McLaren recruit fumbled and fought to trace the issue as the team’s rivals turned countless miles around the speedway.

Months of supposed preparedness for the team’s debut were revealed to be well short of expectation, as McLaren’s veteran team manager, one who joined the effort in search, like Alonso, of his own Triple Crown, glared and chased photographers away with a dictator’s charm. Lost, and losing more time, I observed as he stood clear of the problem, stirring into action as McLaren’s trash attendant only when a mechanic left an empty water bottle, or similar, on pit wall.

All the while, program manager Bob Fearnley, besieged with hopelessness, remained largely out of sight as Amazon Studios’ cameras captured the mounting debacle for a documentary that has yet to air. McLaren sporting director Gil de Ferran, focused on the team’s Formula 1 effort, did his best to mask the disappointment at what he found.

The test ended, Alonso bemoaned the wasted day, and McLaren had a few precious weeks to regroup and return as a cohesive unit. As you know, it didn’t happen. Instead, tales of increasing disfunction made the rounds as official practice got under way, starting with the basics of looking after the crew who slaved away on the cars.

Three mechanics hadn’t been paid for more than a month, it was alleged, and they threatened to leave. It’s said they were written personal checks to remain engaged with the program. This, of course, coming from a team that announced two new sponsors on the day of the open test. Forget the problems with matching paint colors and spare steering wheels; when payroll is overlooked, systemic issues are at hand.

And then there was the question of priorities. I was told of outrage being expressed by one senior official at the sight of the team’s original hospitality unit; as the race team was flirting with missing the field of 33, the call was made to tear down the glamor-free hospitality compound and commission the expedited shipping of a bigger, more fanciful solution from Arizona, I believe.

This, coming from an upstart team that had sold Indy 500 tour packages to interested fans, epitomized the vainglorious approach that ultimately humbled McLaren in the coldest of ways.

It wasn’t lost on some within the team, and especially those whose paychecks weren’t readily forthcoming, that the priorities for the No. 66 Chevy entry were never centered on the 2.5 miles of pavement that mattered.

Just as some love to say ‘Indy picks its winners,’ McLaren’s abortive 2019 run at the Speedway was a reminder of how Indy also exposes its losers. The positive postscript, which came after deep introspection by McLaren’s board of directors, was to return in an alliance with Sam Schmidt and Ric Peterson. Now that’s the spirit.

LOVE: Evel Intentions

After everything you just read about McLaren at Indy, consider this: DragonSpeed team owner Elton Julian purchased his lone DW12 chassis from Dallara after McLaren received its first of two new cars. Julian’s globetrotting sports car team, pressed for time, missed Spring Training at COTA in February, and finished assembling its new Chevy-powered car just days before the St. Petersburg season opener in March. With races to run in the FIA WEC and ELMS championships, DragonSpeed also missed the April 24 Indy Open Test, leaving rookie Ben Hanley to turn his first laps at Indianapolis during the opening day of practice.

Adding to the fun, Julian’s four primary mechanics were denied entry to the U.S. due to last-minute visa issues. And with zero oval experience as a team, the decision was made to hire a race engineer who knew his way around IMS. Julian met and hired his Indy engineer John Dick the day before Hanley’s first laps, which came in the midst of scrambling to hire a temporary crew chief and mechanics.
At Indy 2019, DragonSpeed proved to be quicker than McLarenSpeed. Image by LAT

Despite all of the worrisome hurdles, the blend of old and temporary DragonSpeed team members, and their oval rookie behind the wheel, dealt with the challenges and got down to the business of racing. On a tiny budget, the team took a conservative approach in practice to avoid a costly crash it couldn’t afford, and as qualifying approached, Hanley and Dick were unleashed to find more speed. The Briton qualified 27th, ahead of drivers from Andretti Autosport, Chip Ganassi Racing, and Arrow Schmidt Peterson Motorsports. Ben freaking Hanley and DragonSpeed did this. McLaren Racing and Fernando freaking Alonso did not.

Same new cars, same Chevy engines, vastly different resources and unimaginably different outcomes.

It’s hard to imagine experiencing anything like 2019’s Indy 500 qualifying weekend again in my lifetime.

HATE: Keating Motorsports at Le Mans

It was the story of the race, until it wasn’t. Debuting its Ford GT in the GTE-Am class at the 24 hours of Le Mans, Ben Keating’s upstart team pulled off an epic victory in the gorgeous Wynn’s-sponsored car. And then the twin-turbo V6-powered supercar went through post-race scrutineering.

Whether the oversize fuel cell helped the team to reach Victory Lane, or had minimal effect on Keating’s winning outcome, is immaterial. The fuel capacity limit for the car was exceeded – and not by a small margin – which enraged the kindly Texan, but with a day or so to process the enormity of the situation, he took full ownership of the technical error and did his best to move on.
Keating’s Le Mans joy was short-lived. Image by Ehrhardt/LAT

The race strategy, which stacked the pro drivers heavy in rotation until an insurmountable lead was established, was Keating’s masterpiece. With the forfeited win, the chances of returning to rewrite a happier ending with the same strategical advantage is gone.

LOVE: Our New Steward

It’s the most obvious entry on the list. It also addresses the long-ranging fears some of us held for IndyCar and the Indianapolis Motor Speedway as legacy items owned by a wonderful family that struggled to find a united vision for its future. I know I’m one of many who exhaled deeply at the thought of Roger Penske’s team steering American open-wheel racing and IMS towards better days.

LOVE: Daily Inspiration

If the moves he made as an IndyCar rookie were captivating in 2018, Canada’s Robert Wickens has taken himself to an all-new level during his ongoing efforts to regain full use of his legs. In the year and a half since the Canadian suffered spinal cord damage in a crash at Pocono, his recovery efforts through physical therapy and rehabilitation have been absolutely mesmerizing.

Through Pocono, his rivals wanted to beat him. After Pocono, those same drivers want to be like him. His fight to regain everything he lost that August day has become our collective form of inspiration.