New Zealander Scott Dixon is 44 years old now, in his dotage as the cartoon speed of his profession goes, but the man can still hotfoot it. And the reason he can still hotfoot it is because he still thinks like ... well, like Ricky Bobby.
"Talladega Nights"? If you're not first you're last? All that?
That was Dixie to a fare-thee-well Sunday at St. Pete, minus the Will Ferrell buffoonery. He started sixth and finished second to Alex Palou, and he was NOT. HAPPY. He was kinda pissed, if you want the truth of it. And he was kinda pissed because he thought his teammate Palou got away with one he shouldna gotten away with.
Oh, not because of anything the Spaniard did, mind you. Because of something Dixon couldn't do.
He couldn't communicate with his crew.
His comm crapped out as soon as the green dropped, and it was mostly radio silence between Dixon and the guys on his pit box the rest of the way. That meant they couldn't properly coordinate pit strategy, which is why Dixon pitted one lap late on the last cycle and therefore was unable to catch Palou for the win.
And yet ...
And yet he still finished second.
Without a radio.
Beat Josef Newgarden, polesitter Scott McLaughlin, Kyle Kirkwood, Felix Rosenqvist, a bunch of other guys.
Without a radio.
I don't know about you, but I find that amazing. I think it's more proof that Scott Dixon is the best IndyCar racer of his generation, and one of the two or three best of all time. I think Sunday was yet another reason only A.J. Foyt has more career IndyCar wins than Dixie's 58, and only A.J. has more IndyCar titles than the Kiwi's six.
Because he finished second without a radio. And was all grumbly that it wasn't first.
Hats off to the man. Or, rather, the Man.
No comments:
Post a Comment