I’m thinking I should have posted something between June 24th and now, but somehow, for some reason, didn’t. Partially because some of what I’ve been discussing offline is “off the record” and “between you and I” (which is super secret off the record) and therefore not blog worthy. Well, I mean it’s worthy…. but not blog approved shall we say.
Mostly though it’s because there is just something… missing.
I’m feeling very disconnected from this sport that I love. Like the step-child, forced into a new family, who just doesn’t quite fit in. I spent so many months trying to convince everyone else to give this thing a shot, but as my spirit begins to fade, no one has taken on that role for me. So here I sit, mid season, disillusioned, disappointed, disapproving and slightly disheveled. ( that last one’s the new job taking it’s toll on me)
It’s the Thursday of race week. My race week. The week I lose sleep over every year. The week my non-gearhead friends know not to expect a return phone call. I should be beside myself, giddy with anticipation of friends and coworkers descending upon my fair city for a week of auto racing splendor. I should be grinning like a cheshire cat each time I see a commercial or hear a newscastor mention the Grand Prix of Toronto. I should be sitting at a downtown bar having a heated discussion with my racing buddies about the in’s and out’s of the series and teams and drivers.
Only my racing buddies aren’t here. The bars are ghost towns. There is nary a checkered banner or poster of a race car anywhere. The start/finish line is faded and scuffed, yet still there, taunting… a painful reminder of all that we’ve lost. Oh sure, there will be a race here next year… but it will never be same.
I’m sangry. I’m Angrad. I’m the perfect combination of angry and sad. Instead of the cosmopolitan, fast paced, action packed, world class event I’m used to, I’m instead driving into the middle of upper New York cottage country in some desperate attempt to fill the void. Now I’m sure it’s a perfectly lovely place. And a perfectly lovely track. But… *sigh*
I have such mixed feelings going into the weekend. On the one hand I’m so looking forward to catching up with my chums. *waves to my soon to be roomie from Australia!* On the other hand, I feel like I’m being lead to the firing squad. (dramatic much??) But seriously, for the first time, ever, I am “without team” or driver. My weekends consist of interviews, writing and mostly standing in PT’s pits whenever he’s on track. Well, he’s not on track… anywhere! (don’t even get me started again…) A fact that hits’ me in little waves as I prepare for my weekend. Every piece of racing gear I own is either Champ Car or Forsythe or covered in Monster logos. So this weekend, I’m going with basic black. Kind of fitting as I feel as though I’m in mourning.
I HATE THIS! I hate feeling this way! I hate the disparity. I hate the car. I hate the bullshit, media hyped “danicamania”. I hate that I really couldn’t give a shit who is in the chase for the championship because I have zero connection with anyone in the hunt. I hate the blank, despondent faces of the transitioning drivers staring at me from my television every week, because they’re mirroring mine. I hate that the fall out has all but destroyed the Atlantic series. I hate that I’m filled with so much… hate. *exhale*
Ok… that’s out of my system… figured I better purge all of that from my brain before I walk into the media centre on Friday.
I’m going to try to keep an open mind. Bear with me though as I am about to attend my first ever IRL event. Just typing that made my skin crawl a bit. See it’s one thing to sit and write about it as “media”. I detach myself from it in those cases. I’ve a job to do, and I do it. But underneath the media credential is a fan. A CART/Champ Car fan. A fan who fought for and supported and stood up for and was ultimately let down by not just a “racing series” but an ideal. A dream, a hope, a philosophy.
Believe me, I want to be excited again. I want to be giddy with anticipation. I want to get chills when the cars fire up and peel out of the pits. I want to cheer on and support a team and a driver. I want to believe that there is a real future to look forward too and not just some smoke and mirrors version of open wheel. I look forward to the day when I can look at this series and American open wheel as more than the consolation prize that was behind door number 2.