F1 was my first love. It got me into racing. It was a story with a fascinating backdrop starring an unbelievable cast of characters, rich with metaphors. I will never forget the lessons I learned about hard work and dedication when I watched Schumacher and Ferrari annihilate the field throughout the early 2000s. I will never forget the importance of having passions that I learned from Senna. I will never forget the perseverance I learned from Vettel and Hamilton. F1 runs deep, no question.
But...
There's something about it lately that's just been soulless. Nothing new, in an interesting way, has come from Formula One since 2008, in my opinion. It's been the same scripts, just different actors and slightly different plot twists. 2009 was probably the first year I felt I didn't care anymore. There's been an ebb and flow since, but the fire that was there before has yet to return.
On the other side of the pond however, we have Indycar. Now I know that I've probably come across like a raving demented cartoon fangirl about this series sometimes, but let me tell you something: the one thing I feel Indycar has that F1 has lacked for a long time is proper soul. Indycar feels human in a way that F1 hasn't for a very long time. Watching it, I get the sense that everyone in the sport isn't there for money, or fame, or politics, or whatever--they're there because they want to race. And this shows--sometimes the driving standards are shoddy, sometimes the officiating is sub-par, and sometimes I wonder how they even ended up at some of the tracks--but it's easy to forgive it: while Indycar always feels like one big dysfunctional family get-together, F1 feels like a battlefield. Maybe in the modern era of F1, winning has become too important.
And the wheel-to-wheel action is second to none. If Indycar and F1 both went to Spa, and you gave me a paddock pass to both, there's absolutely no question which series I'd rather watch. The mere idea of Sato and Karam headed side-by-side into Eau Rouge is more exciting to me than most of F1's on-track battles in the past few years, because at that point it's not about aero-kits, engines, chassis, relative skill, or even the fact that they're dueling for 19th place--it's just a good old-fashioned game of 200 mi/h chicken between two drivers who don't understand the meaning of the phrase 'back out'. It's just fun to watch, because there's no way to predict how it's going to end--yes, I know it's Sato, but there's still no guarantee they'd crash--and I think that's the sort of thing most people mean when you hear them say they like how unpredictable Indycar is. I don't recall the last time I saw something like that in F1; maybe it's because the midfield is full of bland pay drivers/young-guns-of-the-week and the top guys are all too busy playing the long game to ever go at it like that. I don't know the answer, but I do know there's a problem.
Indycar, too, is more than full of personalities and life lessons. If Justin Wilson hasn't caused you to at least consider how often you've made sacrifices for someone else, you might want to read a little more about why Indycar has grieved so deeply over losing him.
So that's why this year, Indycar officially surpassed F1 as my favourite form of motorsport. I know what I'm getting when I tune into both, and I much prefer what I get out of Indycar. I don't watch it to see who wins, I watch it to see a bunch of guys/gals getting together to drive some cars, sometimes in circles, with the ultimate result of unstable, wild, off-the-chain, chaotropic fun. Ultimately, my interest in Indycar, for me, boils down to something Senna said years ago: 'It's pure driving, real racing... and that, that makes me happy.' Racing for the sake of racing--exactly the way it should be.