Pocono Raceway: Bad Memories
Last weekend, the local papers were full of stories about the return of Indy Car racing to Pocono Raceway. The last time Indy cars raced there was in 1989. There were plenty of stories written about the history of the venue and local nostalgia about the Andretti family (Mario, Michael, and now Marco) at the race track. It turned out that Sunday was not a good day for the Andretti racing team. It was another bad memory for them. Ironically, it, also, brought back a very bad memory for me.
I really do not know the year, but it was a long time ago when I was asked to be the main announcer for the GATR 400 at Pocono. GATR was an acronym for The Great American Truck Race. The draw was to take truck cabs off the highway and have the drivers race them for 400 miles, you know, much like truckers do on Route 22 every day.
Now, let me be up front here – I was not and am not a racing fan. My sole auto sport interest, in the past, centered around the Indianapolis 500 on Memorial Day, especially if a local driver was involved. I know very little about cars, their engines, and how they work. That’s what mechanics are for. To make matters worse, I knew virtually nothing about trucks!
I did not want this announcing job. I figured rather than just saying, “No, thank you”; I would offer to do it for an exorbitant price. I asked for three times my normal fee, thinking that would get me a “Sorry, we’ll look for someone else.” That did not happen. The company agreed to my “demand” (ploy) and I was now doing a broadcast about which I knew nothing.
The race was on a Saturday with time trials and practice on Friday. I decided to go to practice to watch and learn. I went into the pits, struck up conversation with the participants, and took notes. I was honest with the drivers and they were cordial in divulging information. One suggested I should ride with him around the track to get a sense of the speed and the experience. Every brain cell said, “Don’t do this”, but my pride (stupidity) took over and I accepted the offer. I jumped in the cab and off we went. It was not long before we were going down a straightaway at 90+ miles per hour. I tried not to look frightened, but I was afraid my underwear would tell a different story. Trust me, it was frightening! I was convinced we would fly over the retaining wall and that would be it! The headline would read – “Young Local Announcer Dies Covering Sport He Knew Nothing About!” I, also, have the fear that same headline might be written about every sport I have covered over the years. But, I digress. Obviously, I did not die.
Instead, the next day I found myself high atop the track in the announcer’s booth ready to fake interest and knowledge and hope my color analyst was the best race announcer ever to take the microphone. To make matters worse, ten minutes prior to the start, we were informed our words would, also, serve as the PA sound to the thousands who had gathered to watch the race live – you know, the people who REALLY KNEW the sport.
The broadcast began (I still have nightmares about my scared voice “booming” out throughout the track), the race started, and I talked! It was exactly as I suspected – long, confusing (no truck should be allowed to lap another), and intense. Just like “all good things must come to an end”, it is also true of all “bad things”. I got through it.
On the way home, I wondered how much money I should ask for the next time I am offered a job to announce a race. For some reason, another offer never came.
