I'll put my two cent's in on this subject (that's about what its worth). For me something happened when I began moving into my mid-thirties, I lost that wild intoxication for the contemporary incarnation of the sport, that I had when I was younger. Much of it was because of the way the sport was evolving, as mentioned it was becoming ever more sterile, over regulated, that combined with some of the juvenile antics of the participants just sapped my enthusiasm. I love the history of the sport, and still enjoy going to races, nothing beats the sights & smells of a race meeting, but for me know its about the whole event, not the racing. There's very little about contemporary racing that I care about, be it F1, Indycar, sportscars, bike's, etc. To me its pretty much all the same. For me know its about about the venues, and the atmosphere, could care less about pissing matches over which is better, ALMS or Grand-Am, MotoGP or Superbikes, etc. I began to lose my enthusiasm for Le Mans, the race itself, the last couple of times I was there in '02 & '03. When I first went in '96 all of the old tribunes were still there, the fairground was in its traditional location down by the esses, the straight run down the hill from the bridge to the esses was still intact, the old village was still there, etc. It had a real sense of history. Gradually all of these traditional landmarks vanished, and by my last LM 24hrs, the place seemed very sterile, and devoid of charisma, not helped by sights like razor wire topped walls. The spectators are ridiculously far removed from the action compared to what I'm used to over here. It really put me off.
I loved the people I met there, had a great time camping, boozing, swapping stories, but the race itslef had virtually become background noise. I just didn't have any interest in watching it from two hundred yards away.
I would say for me now, its about 25% about the racing, and the rest, the atmosphere & party. That said, I'm passing on my first Indy 500 in forty years next Sunday, can't face being packed in iike sardines, in the baking sun, with the sweaty, 300lb guy next to me, to watch the pathetic mess Indycar racing has become. Going to watch from a comfy bar stool down at the nicely air conditioned pub.
Fax
