Dario and his close friend Danposted in INDY21 | 10 | 2011
BATHGATE'S DARIO FRANCHITTI started Sunday's IndyCar finale in Las Vegas prepared for one of two emotions: either the joy, thrill and satisfaction of winning his third title in a row; or dealing with the disappointment of just being pipped by rival Will Power. Nothing though prepared him for the mindnumbing sickness which followed the brutal death of his close friend Dan Wheldon.
The 33-year-old Englishman was confirmed dead two hours after his horrific crash on the 11th lap round the high speed, 1.5-mile speedway. What should have been a career-defining moment for Franchitti — his fourth IndyCar title in five years, a period which also included two Indy500 wins — instead dissolved into uncontrollable sobbing as the reality of Wheldon's death hit home. Tomorrow he will attend his friend's funeral in St Petersburg, Florida.
Motorsport, we all know, is dangerous. Thankfully deaths are rare. That rarity though somehow makes any fatality even more shocking. We have grown used to seeing drivers emerge unscathed from high speed, explosive crashes. As safety technology has increased in race cars, so we, as viewers and spectators, have become neutered to the risks these drivers are taking at speeds in excess of 220mph.
Even for a small part of one second
Most recently we watched, glued to TV monitors and screens, as Dumfries racer Allan McNish somehow climbed out of his utterly wrecked Audi R18TDI at Le Mans in June.
Anyone who witnessed the Scots racer's car disintegrate around him would be lying if they didn't admit, for even a small part of one second, that he might not have come out of that car alive.
That he did is testament to the safety of modern-day race cars. It's too early for specific details to emerge of Wheldon's crash. We do though know that the double Indy500 winner and 2005 IndyCar champ was killed by a blow to the head.
But where now though for the sport; and Franchitti?
The sport will, of course, continue. Danger is one of the realities which fuels any drivers' desire to race. As the 38-year-old Scot told me on more than one occasion: "It's what we do. It's part of motorsport; it's part of our life."
The danger, the fatal danger — the kind that can take a young man's life in the prime of his career, leaving Wheldon's wife Susie, two young children and a trail of tears throughout the racing world — is always there.
IndyCar drivers are a close family
Unlike F1 and so many track-based motorsport formulae, IndyCar is supremely dangerous because of its use of high-speed ovals. Lap after lap, cars dice within inches of each other at more than 200mph knowing that, within touching distance, is an unforgiving concrete wall and a metal catch fence.
There is no gravel trap; there is no football pitch-size flat run-off area. There is simply stark reality. There is a concrete wall and a catch fence.
IndyCar differs from F1 — global motorsport's other principal open-wheel, single-seater racing series — in another, important way. F1 drivers rarely mix with each other. They are corporate individuals who do a clinical job. They test; they qualify; they race; they go home. Job done.
IndyCar drivers are a family. Always have been; always will be.
I remember when IndyCar came to Rockingham for the first Indy race at the Northamptonshire circuit in September, 2001. It was the first race after Alex Zanardi had lost both his legs in a horror crash in the previous round just days before at the Lausitzring in Germany.
Franchitti, surrounded by IndyCar stars, led the press conference at Rockingham. The mood was sombre. They were all raw from Zanardi's accident.
"I think he had some Scottish in him too"
As a group, of course they raced hard against each other, but they also ate together; they laughed together; they socialised together; they had fun together.
Franchitti spoke on Sunday evening, just hours after Wheldon's death, about his former rival, team-mate and friend.
"One of the two times Dan and I fell out, Tony (Kanaan), Brian (Herta]) and I brought him to the hotel and gave him a good talking to and his eyes were like this, huge and out on stalks," the Scot explained.
"Dan had lots of Irish in him from his father's side, but I think he had some Scottish in him too as he never bought dinner or anything! He was the little brother we didn't want!
"Then he signs for Chip Ganassi and asks us if we were in New York and said 'let's go for dinner, I'm buying'.
"We gave his credit card a beating and proceeded to order lots of expensive things, champagne and the bill came to $5000 and he didn't flinch. We're going to miss HIM."
Memory of Greg's death never leaves Dario
Franchitti too has been here before. In 1999 at the California Speedway, again in the season finale — the championship he eventually lost on race wins countback to Colombian Juan Pablo Montoya — Franchitti's closest friend on the circuit, Canadian Greg Moore, was killed in another high speed crash.
The memory of that day never leaves Dario. When he won his first Indy500 in 2007, his first thoughts were of his close friend. To this day, his race helmet still carries a memorial to Greg.
Franchitti's recordbreaking IndyCar achievements have been, naturally understandably, overshadowed by the loss of Wheldon. There has been no celebrating; nor will there be.
In five years, broken only by his 12-month excursion into Nascar, Franchitti has won two Indy500s and four IndyCar title, the last three in succession.
The Scot has won 30 IndyCar races and is the most successful racer of his generation. Without question he now ranks with all the greats in IndyCar racing; only A.J. Foyt has won more titles than him.
Dario Franchiti though is, first and foremost, an honest, decent, family-loving guy. Life will go on, and hopefully he will return to race again in 2012, ironically in a completely newly-designed IndyCar racer Wheldon helped test, design and develop.
Now is not the time to celebrate
For now though he, like the rest of the IndyCar family, is hurting. The pain will ease, but it will never completely disappear.
When Wheldon's death was confirmed on Sunday, the drivers returned to the track to complete five laps in memory of the popular, ever-smiling Englishman. Wheldon's No. 77 was the only one on the towering scoreboard.
Franchitti sobbed uncontrollably as he got back into his car for the tribute laps. The song "Danny Boy" blared out from speakers at the track. The haunting notes of "Amazing Grace" followed as hundreds of crew workers from each team stood solemnly.
I have been asked on numerous occasions this week to mark Franchitti's achievements. Now is not the time. In time yes, but not now. Now is a time for respect and understanding; of accepting and acknowledging there are times in life when winning counts for nothing. It's a time for allowing those who need to grieve, the time to grieve.
In time, as Dan Wheldon's memory continues, life will return to as near normal as possible for those left behind. For now though, there is no winning; just the memory of a life lost.
Jim McGill
TRUE FRIENDSHIP: Dario Franchitti and Dan Wheldon hug in celebration after the two finished 1-2 in the 2010 Indianapolis 500.