Henderson car owner will miss roar of the crowd at Indy

“Over the roar of the engines, you can hear the 400,000 people going hoarse,” shouted the normally unflappable broadcast legend so he could also be heard. “No one has ever seen this before at Indianapolis!”

You may see it again this year. But it won’t sound the same.

There’s a good chance the 500-mile race could produce another thrilling finish, as those have become more rule than exception during the modern era. But should one develop, Leigh Diffey in the NBC broadcast booth won’t have to shout to be heard over the crowd.

For the first time, the Indianapolis 500 is being run in August — the 104th edition gets the green flag Sunday — and without spectators, because of the coronavirus pandemic.

It is the sea of humanity that makes the Indy 500 the world’s largest single-day sporting event. With the roar of the engines echoing across acres of empty grandstands, this will an Indy 500 like no other.

It simply won’t be the same Back Home Again in Indiana.

Place comes alive

“You’re focused on the car, you’ve got the car noise, the radio’s going … at any other (track) you’re not going to hear the crowd,” said Henderson’s Sam Schmidt, who competed in the 500 three times before a devastating crash ended his driving career. “But (at Indianapolis) there are s-o-o-o many people, you definitely hear the place come alive.”

The successful team owner has entered three cars at venerable Indianapolis Motor Speedway, which has undergone a dramatic makeover under the stewardship of new owner Roger Penske. Penske’s drivers have won the 500 a record 18 times.

“The roar of the crowd is not going to be there … but Roger’s just done a hell of a job, and kudos to him. He’s bleeding red, and so are the teams,” Schmidt said of the financial losses caused by the pandemic. “But you really can’t complain because the man at the top is right there with you.”

Schmidt said Penske has spent more than $20 million modernizing the ancient Brickyard, and by running the 500 without spectators there is no way to recoup the investment. The purse of $15 million has been trimmed to $7 million — money that may be crucial to the survival of many of the smaller-budgeted race teams, Schmidt said.

But on and off the track it’s just not going to be the same, said Schmidt, noting his 20th Conquer Paralysis Now fundraising gala, one of the highlights of the Indy 500 social calendar, was forced to go online this year.

“There’s nothing like being on the frontstretch when they sing ”Back Home Again in Indiana,” and they march 1,100 troops down the front straightway, and they do the flyover — it makes you hair stand straight up, right?” he said. “The last six, seven years, it has been absolutely packed — 275,000, 300,000 people — and that energy, that vibe … you just can’t imagine what it’s going to be like without it.”

Added Danica Patrick, who finished fourth as a 23-year-old rookie at Indianapolis in 2005 and became a transcendent personality away from the track after leading 19 laps: “It is sad that there won’t be that energy and ambiance that we’re so used to with the Indianapolis 500, with all the pomp and circumstance that goes with it really bringing the energy up before the race.”

Just another race?

But a 500 without spectators is better than no 500 at all, said Patrick, who will be joining the NBC broadcast team for the second year.

For the drivers, it’ll probably be business as usual when the green flag falls.

But for those who normally pack the grandstands, who compile DiMaggio-like streaks for never missing the world’s fastest carnival ride — who believe attending the 500-mile race in Indianapolis is like having Christmas in May (at least in a nonvirus year) — the “Greatest Spectacle in Racing” without spectators is just another average spectacle.

It’s almost enough to make Mr. Goodwrench and the Fram Oil Filters guy cry.

Gentlemen, start your handkerchiefs.

Contact Ron Kantowski at rkantowski@reviewjournal.com or 702-383-0352. Follow @ronkantowski on Twitter.