THE AMERICAN WAY
Big, brash and in your face, American motorsport is an assault on the senses and offers so much more than just racing. But can it appeal to European tastes? We visit the Daytona 24 Hours to find out
Europe is often sniffy about how motorsport is run in the USA, but after a trip to Daytona we think Europe has a lot to learn from its American cousins
THE LONG SNAKE OF CARS CRAWLS around the banking, edging towards the start line, anticipation building for the 24 hours of racing that lie ahead. The speed gradually increases, then, as the front two cars pass the start flag, they dive for the racing line. It’s a short sprint to the first corner – a sharp left leading to the Y-shaped infield – and as the prototype cars brake to the apex they emit bangs that sound like weapons-grade popcorn being cooked. Just as you hear the last explosions, a shrill howl from a Porsche 911 RSR’S flat-six cuts through the air as the revs burst at every downchange. The Huracáns and R8s towards the back of the pack then release a naturally aspirated wail too, but at a much lower volume.
Just as the last GT car exits the first corner, the front of the pack starts to accelerate onto the outer oval circuit and you’re treated to another cavalcade of noise. The Cadillac prototypes spit out a truly American V8 grumble, but it’s nothing on the GTE Corvettes; their exhaust noise alone makes Daytona International Speedway shake. By lap nine, the front-running prototypes have caught up with the slowest GTS and there are cars at every point of the circuit. Sitting in the stadium’s tiered seating you’re now confronted by a wall of engine noise that promises to persist for an entire day.
The uninterrupted sounds alone should be enough to convert anyone who is sceptical about motor racing in America. Me, however – I was converted before the start of the race. Being oval-based, Daytona is a far cry from old roads through Belgian forests, across French countryside or over German mountain ranges that make up evocative European circuits. It’s all pale concrete, manicured lawns and manufactured turns. The gauche advertising columns on the outside of the building, the proclamation that it’s ‘ The World Center of Racing’ and a set of stairs to rival the ones to Heaven’s Gate on Tianmen Mountain make the whole place feel wearily over-the-top, too.
Make your way into the stadium, however, and up into the main grandstand – which stretches almost a mile along the ‘frontstretch’ and seats 101,000 – and the first excuse to forgive the circuit’s compact, manmade layout presents itself. You can see every corner, straight and aspect of the track. Venture to the infield and, before the racing has even started, the event gets even better. And it doesn’t cost a fortune if you want a ticket that gives you more than just a seat: a grandstand and infield pass for two days is $69, just less than £50 (stadium-only is $40, under £30).
Once you’re on the inside of the oval there’s a feast of activities to take part in – a fair with a big wheel, car manufacturer stands and parking for car clubs. The paddock is also open to explore, with the team garages there to peer into from front or back. As the start of the race approaches, you expect access to become more limited. But no. The gates to the circuit, from both the seating and the infield, open to allow the public onto the track. You can climb the banked circuit to see just how steep it is (very), inspect the scars on the wall and see the patch-up jobs on the wire fencing. Getting to see the tarmac up close and experience the place hands-on immediately gives you a connection to the circuit. No matter how man-made and manicured Daytona may look, up close, the track shows its rich character.
While the spectators mill around the track, a procession of prototype race cars get wheeled onto the circuit accompanied by the mechanics, drivers and, to really add to the atmosphere, a marching band. The GT cars sit diagonally in the pits, the teams waiting patiently and proudly next to them as people take photos. In the hustle of the crowds the remaining drivers and teams walk through onto the track, and I bump into ex-racer, Rolex 24 at Daytona winner and friend of evo Dario Franchitti. As I am falling for Daytona I’m keen to see what he thinks makes it so special.
‘ The access,’ he says. ‘It’s a great thing. It’s fantastic for the fans who are already there, to keep them interested, and to bring in new fans, because you can get within
‘Seeing the tarmac up close and experiencing the place hands-on gives you a connection to the circuit’
touching distance of the cars and the drivers, and that’s got to be positive.’
It’s a unique environment for the drivers, too: ‘Daytona’s special and a bit different because it goes back to the way things used to be, when drivers from different formulas would drive. You look at Daytona, there are NASCAR drivers, Indycar drivers, this year we’ve got Alonso, so the very best Formula 1 driver’s in there. There are also sportscar drivers from European series. You’re racing against people that maybe you haven’t raced against – and it was in my case – for decades, then also guys you admire from other formulas. So it’s just fantastic as a driver.’
Eventually we are shuffled off the track and I make my way onto the outside of the circuit to watch the start from the stands. Rather than letting the pre-race hype die down, the national anthem is sung while everyone around me holds their caps to their hearts and a coastguard helicopter flies by. Just as the chopper goes out of sight, Chip Ganassi, former racing driver, owner of one of the most successful race teams in American history, and this year’s grand marshal, calls out over the radio: ‘Ladies and gentlemen, start your engines!’
And it’s at that moment that I am converted. Turning the mundane task of the teams starting their cars into a spectacle where 50 race engine all erupt into life simultaneously perfectly represents racing in America. The extra glitz, performance and unhindered access I’ve had preceding the Rolex 24 has provided enough of a show to keep me captivated before even seeing any GT3S or sportscars do battle on circuit.
As the race gets underway, the noise is overwhelming. My viewpoint means I don’t miss a second of action, and my love for racing in America is galvanised. After a few minutes I make my way into the infield again to get closer to the circuit – you can get within metres of the hairpins. Once inside the track you’re completely encompassed by the sound.
As day turns to night it’s easy to spot the spectators who are there for the racing (most, as it happens) and those just for the craic. The serious fans can be found in the stadium seats (the ‘ bleachers’), by the side of the circuit next to their own campfires or sitting on top of their RVS, watching the race unfold. Having just as much fun are the other campers, huddled around fires with their old sofas, the gallons of beer they’re consuming and their amusing homemade signs. One site even has a projector, gaming seat and Playstation set up, presumably so they can boast they raced at Daytona.
The finish of this year’s race is relatively undramatic compared with previous Daytonas, the Cadillac of Filipe Albuquerque, João Barbosa and Christian Fittipaldi winning with more than a minute to spare. But while there’s always a suspicion that the overtly American aspects at US races – the warbly, Mariah Carey-style over-the-top singing of the national anthem, the flyover, the fireworks, the ‘start your engines!’ – are there to distract from some sub-par racing, that couldn’t be further from the truth. With the best drivers, the most exciting cars and the ability to really follow a race as part of the crowd, US racing doesn’t need the extra dazzle to enthral motorsport fans. That culture, that desire to entertain, is what also allows uninhibited access and creates a glamorous pre-race show. At Daytona, the show and the race is there for you. Europe take note.