Anyone who knows me, or who has read anything I have written in the past about motorsports knows that it runs in my blood.
Be it a heavy stock car running around a track somewhere in the southern States, a sports car driving around one of the huge tracks in Europe somewhere, or an open-wheel Indycar racing around the Indianapolis Motor Speedway, I am hooked.
To get my fix, I have paired my professional career as a photographer with that love of motorsports, and have covered countless events in my spare time, including this year’s Indianapolis 500. I was also slated to cover the Las Vegas event, but budgets fell through at the last second.
This past Sunday, the drivers, crews, team owners, series officials, members of the media, and fans said goodbye to a beloved driver, who was both a husband and father.
On the 12th circuit around the Las Vegas Motor Speedway, the site of the series finale of the 2011 Indycar season, a large accident broke out which sent four cars airborne, and took 11 others out of the race.
Everyone knew it was bad from the moment the accident was triggered. Going 360 kilometres an hour, with 33 cars surrounding you on a high-banked oval, things happen fast.
Wheldon suffered injuries from the accident so severe that he was unable to pull through, and died in a local hospital as a result.
The race was called, and the drivers decided to hold a five-lap tribute to this year’s Indy 500 winner, a loved personality.
Anyone who has paid attention to the extremely poor mainstream media coverage of Wheldon’s death will slowly start to understand that, while many don’t consider racing a sport, one thing it for sure, it is a fraternity.
I first covered Wheldon in the 2008 edition of the Edmonton Indy. He was racing for a guy named Chip Ganassi. He returned each year to the Edmonton race, with Panther Racing in 2009 and 2010. In 2011, Wheldon was without a ride.
Former driver Bryan Herta, with some help from Sam Schmidt Motorsports fielded a car for Wheldon at the Indianapolis 500, the biggest race in American motorsports. While Wheldon had won an Indianapolis 500 in 2005, this race was made even more special by the fact that he was racing for a team that only entered one race.
That race was special for me as well, as it was the first Indy 500 I had the pleasure of covering.
I recall a few different moments with Wheldon during that weekend. Wheldon was always smiling. During autograph events that photographers crawl all over, looking to get shots of drivers who are not in their racing garb and helmet, any time anyone asked him for a smile, he gladly gave it. Oddly enough, he would thank you back for shooting the photo.
I recall standing in victory lane at Indy; Wheldon emerged from his car with tears running down his face, enjoying the traditional milk that is awarded at this race. But he immediately dedicated his win to his mother, who was back in the U.K. dealing with her recent diagnosis of Alzheimers.
One of my favourite photos of Wheldon came the day after the running of the Indy 500. Another tradition in the Indy 500 is a photoshoot for the winner on the start/finish line with the Borg Warner trophy and his family, team and car.
It’s an unpublished photo, as I never submitted it to Motorsport.com, the outlet I was working for at the race. It’s Wheldon holding his eldest son Sebastien, glancing down with a smile at his youngest son Oliver, who is being held by his wife Susie.
I was never a friend of Wheldon’s, but being part of that weird, addicted, thrill-seeking motorsports fraternity, you feel for everyone affected. Wheldon was a father, a husband, a friend, and an idol to many.
Racing will go on. Mainstream media is quick to start the blame game, but the fact is that over time and experiences like this one, the sport will only become safer. These drivers know the risks they are taking every time they strap into one of these cars, and the show must go on. Let’s just cross our fingers that no more fatalities happen on the track.
