Tomorrow’s Indianapolis 500 will be surreal without the traditional largest collection of humanity assembled in one place. There’s no denying that. However, it’s my hope we can, together from afar, illustrate, in our own ways, why this event is so special. Thread

I’ve shared much of this before, so if repetitive, I apologize. If you are not a fan or from Indianapolis, perhaps this will shed light on why this event is so special.
I grew up in central Indiana, and 1st attended the Indy 500 in 1981, at the age of 8. Everything about that

day was rooted in tradition. My Dad cut the starting grid from the @indystar. My Mom packed our coolers in the same fashion my grandparents had ordered boxed lunches for the races of her childhood. We parked at my Great Uncle’s house in Speedway, who prepped a chili dinner

for us to enjoy post race. During the walk towards the track, My Mom pointed to trees and told me of my Grandfather climbing them, as a bo, to watch the likes of Peter DePaolo & Louis Meyer racing on bricks. I was just a kid, but knew that my hometown, for that month, suddenly

had the rest of the world peering in from above- that people outside of Indianapolis glimpsed in for the event that temporarily made us the epicenter of American culture. It made me swell with pride about where I was from.
As the years went on, I attended races with my Dad, with

friends, with out of town guests. My older relatives passed away, but the customs with which I was reminded of them stayed. I still packed my cooler the same way. I still cut out the starting grid. I still would drive past Uncle Walt’s house to smile. It was within my dreams to

some day be a (very) small part of the race, hoping I could accentuate the experience for others going through the same rituals I’d always cherished. In the few years I did not attend the race, I listened to it from the speakers of my Grandparents’ house in Clermont, the roar of

the cars a complimentary audio in the distance. Does some kid today feel the same electricity and warmth while listening to the radio calls of my adulthood? Would some other adult reflect on their loved ones while our descriptions of the race awaken the nostalgic echoes

of their childhood? I don’t know. But it’s that exact hope that makes my job of helping call the race an incredibly humbling and satisfying responsibility.
I know this year is different. I know it’s not the eve or Memorial Day, I know the world is struggling and I know people

feel an immeasurable void in not being able to attend. I feel a subtle guilt in my fortune to attend, but that’s somewhat offset by the thought of perhaps helping just one person recoup that magic that annually awakens.
It won’t be the same without that gaze across the infield

at the colors of people as far as my eye can see. It won’t be the same not gazing at 235,000 uniquely personal traditions across the horizon. But the magic of radio is the theater of the mind, and in my mind tomorrow, I will envision people safely gathering with their

most intimate circle to take in, via television or radio, the events happening below me. It’s a virtual bond tomorrow, if you will, and I realize unique circumstances make it a fraction of the norm. But, together, in our own ways, we can still feel the unity of absorbing

an event that threads our own unique memories into a tapestry we’ll add to our annals.
Tonight, I will do as I always have in my 14 years as a member of the @IMS radio network. I’ll have dinner in Speedway and walk Georgetown Road. I’ll see the trees & think of my grandfather

climbing to catch a glimpse of the greatest race in the world. I’ll do so in hopes that somewhere, someone allows me and my co-workers to be their branch. That they allow us to give them that glimpse. It’s a big responsibility, and one none of us takes lightly. It’s an incredible

honor that I accept with the utmost gratitude. We’ll someday again gather as the largest exhibition of humanity taking in a single event. Until then, all of this will have to do.

Now, stay tuned. For the Greatest Spectacle in Racing.