Mark Titus: Indy 500 Fanalysis

Mark Titus spent the recent holiday weekend in the only manner he saw fit, at least for a Midwesterner.  He writes:

I spent my Memorial Day weekend doing what everyone in the Midwest should have been doing-sweating uncontrollably, walking more than any person should ever have to, and watching fast cars go around a big oval. I'm talking of course about going to the Indianapolis 500, otherwise known as "The Greatest Spectacle In Racing" (not to be confused with Lance Armstrong, who is known as "The Greatest Testicle In Racing").

Ouch.

According to Mark, the Indy 500 fans can be broken into a few basic groups.  And in his most recent blog entry, he describes in hilarious detail each of these groups and the members that comprise them.  For starters, Mark discusses what he calls the "rich/celebrity fans." He writes:

The Indy 500 attracts so many C and D list celebrities that if you aren't completely paying attention, you might think you're watching "Dancing with the Stars." In the celebrity rundown section in The Indianapolis Star, you could find people like Jared Fogle, the "getting a stomach staple and claiming it was Subway was the best decision of my life" guy and Jay Bush, the "I have the most disobedient dog in the world" guy. It's gotten to the point that I'm fairly confident if I get kicked out of the NFL and MLB drafts, they'll let me drive the pace car next year. Really, it's like these people come to the race because it's the one weekend that they know they will be treated like A-listers and for that I really can't be mad at them.

The members of the next group can be described as the "diehard fans":

I'm talking about the guy who has those radio headphones on so he can hear what's going on while he's watching what's going on, and will probably at some point tell a female that he's on the same frequency as Tony Kanaan's team and can hear their strategy. This guy has every driver's number and chief sponsor memorized, knows the series standings, and probably had a life at one point in time. Tragic, really.

The third kind of fan falls under the rubric of "local/regular":

These types come to the race because they either live within a half hour of the track or because they've been to every race for as long as they can remember. Most are a combination of both. These are the kinds of fans who make sure they buy the program as soon as they get there and are probably wearing the official Indy 500 t-shirt from 1995. If you ask them who they are cheering for, chances are they will say "either Arie Luyendyk or Al Unser Jr." because they have no idea who is even in the race. And why should they? Who is in the race isn't important. The fact that they are keeping a family tradition alive is.

Then, Mark describes what he calls "the first-timer," a sad easy-to-laugh at sort, if the portrait Mark paints is even the slightest bit accurate:

The first time fans are the laughing stock of everyone at the race and are pretty easy to pick out. These are the people who are stunned by how much walking is involved and can be heard saying things like, "I had no idea it was going to be so hot." These people are usually the ones who are shocked with how disgusting the restrooms are and don't see what the big deal is about cars just going around in circles. Despite being told over and over by friends how intense the race actually is, the first time fan will always be surprised and will angrily ask their friends, "Why didn't you tell me how intense the race actually is?" This question is usually answered with a firm punch to the face.

Finally, Mark details the infield fan -- there are two varieties.  First, the turn two infield section:

The turn two infield section is a family friendly area where kids can play freeze tag and trade Pokémon cards without worrying about hearing four letter words or seeing their first pair of headlights. The turn two infield is where mothers hand out juice boxes and tell their kids that Santa Claus can make it around the world in one night because his sleigh is faster than the cars on the track. I would say that the turn two infield is so boring that it's not even funny, but that phrase insinuates that if there were a little less boredom, the turn two infield would actually be kind of humorous. And there's nothing funny about seeing a father of two, five years removed from college frat parties, holding his wife in one hand and a bag full of wet wipes and animal crackers in the other.

The turn three infield is apparently not so boring.  And a whole lot more funny:

There's a bit that Jim Gaffigan does about holidays that almost exactly captures the collective attitude of the turn three infield at the Indy 500. I'm fully aware that most of you are too lazy to click on the links, so I'll just tell you that there's a line in which he mocks how Americans rationalize their overeating during holidays. "I normally don't have a burger, a brat, and a steak, but it is the Fourth of July..." In a similar manner, people in the infield have the attitude that "I usually wouldn't bong three beers in a row while my pants are at my ankles, but this is the Indy 500..."

And with descriptions like these, it's hard to decide with which of these groups one would most want to identity.  Or rather would least not want to identify.

As for Jim Gaffigan (one of our favorites), the pale force talks over-eating at 1:45 into the clip: