An ancient lament

 Some guys re-invent the wheel. Others just re-invent complaining about how boring the wheel can be when you put it in the wrong place.

And so here I am, cruising the tangled undergrowth of the interwhatsis. And here are all these folks saying what a shame it was NASCAR couldn't put on a better show at motorsports' holiest of holies, because, gee whiz, what a snooze-fest that was -- and, boy howdy, how embarrassing was it when the cameras went wide-angle and it looked like you could hit most of the grandstands with a grenade launcher and not harmed a soul?

One wiseass even compared the Brickyard 400 to the Tournament of Roses parade, and said if he squinted just right he could see Goofy running fifth on the City of Pasadena float.

Oh, wait. That was me who wrote that.

Fifteen years ago.

In a column I wrote about the president of Fox saying the problem with NASCAR was its races were just too darn long.

In other words, all this chatter about the Brickyard -- even about the length of races, which Kyle Larson brought up on Sunday -- is as old as the sands of antiquity. So as I hacked through the aforementioned undergrowth, all I could do was smile and shake my head and mutter, "You guys been living in a cave somewhere?" 

Because the Brickyard's been a lousy venue for the stock car boys since practically forever, and you can credit Dale Jarrett and Robert Yates for exposing that. Back when the world was young -- OK, so when the Brickyard 400 was, anyway -- Yates brought all those muscle-y Fords to Indy, and in 1999 Jarrett just drove away from everyone in one, rendering comatose the six-figure crowd broiling in the early August sun.

He led 117 laps that day, as everyone else helplessly gave distant chase. And there, perhaps, you have the birth of the ancient lament: Gee, this is a really special place and all, but, man, the racing is BORRR-ing.

What really killed the vibe, though, was 2008, when two calamities showed up at once. One, the economy crashed, hitting the working class that has always been NASCAR's base hardest of all. And, two, Goodyear brought a marshmallow to Indy instead of a racing tire, turning the Brickyard into a series of half-hour episodes punctuated by mandatory yellows to switch out the Stay-Puft tires.

That was the end of the mega-crowds, and the beginning of advertising and American flags covering vast swatches of the Speedway's miles of seating. Just couldn't fill 'em anymore.

Eighteen years have passed from that day to this, which makes the internet chatter the last couple of days very old news to those of us with long memories.

"What a boring race!" they cry, or words to that effect.

Well, yes, and what else is new?

"What a terrible venue for NASCAR!" they cry.

Yes, and water is wet.

"Not a single green-flag pass for the lead!" "These races are too long, especially this one!" "It's all the fault of this terrible Next Gen car!"

Replies, in order: Been there, done that ... What, you're just noticing that? ... No, it's not the fault of the Next Gen car. The race was an afternoon nap when the Original Gen car was was tooling around the place.

So what to do about it?

Nothing, because no one's going to tear down IMS and start over again. Although I suppose what might help, at least for the race-length part of it, is getting rid of the idiotic stage system -- a wholly artificial construct which brings everything to a screeching halt twice a race for made-for-TV restarts, and which everyone ignores except the talking heads who are paid not to.

Quick: Who won Stage 1 and Stage 2 on Sunday?

That would be Ty Gibbs and Ross Chastain. But you'd never have known that if I hadn't told you just now.

So, yeah, offload it. As for the rest ... it is what it is. 

Which is a phrase I hate like Brussels sprouts. But it seems to fit here.