It’s the snake eating its own tail: Companies don’t want to give sponsorship dollars to unproven drivers, but those traditionally kept out of racing—women and minorities—aren’t able to prove themselves on track without financial support.
And yet, women make up 40% of racing fans. Sir Lewis Hamilton, the only Black driver in Formula 1, has almost forty million followers on social media and was recently voted the “Most Marketable Driver in Motorsports” for the twelfth time.
Research shows that sports fans tend to be loyal to sponsored brands of their favorite athletes, and women even more so. I’m no economics expert, but if women are almost half of all racing fans and are often loyal to a favorite driver’s brand ...
And yet. Here we are.
There are groups working to close this gap, like women’s beauty brands e.l.f. Cosmetics, Fenty, and Charlotte Tilbury, who sponsor female drivers in various disciplines. Organizations like Shift Up and More Than Equal are working to bring sponsorship and support to women drivers, and the Hamilton Commission and Force Indy support drivers of color. But none of these organizations alone, or even together, is enough to overcome the drastic gap in fundingbetween the white men who have always been in racing and the women and minorities who are as good, if not better, behind the wheel (for example, see Lewis Hamilton’s multiple F1 records).
It must start at the top, with racing series requiring more diverse representation from teams, and from the major teams putting their sponsorship efforts—purposefully—behind those historically shut out of racing. Will efforts at incentivizing nontraditional drivers anger some in the paddock? Of course. Will it make a difference? If teams truly want to see “pure racing” as they claim they do, it’s worth trying.
Until historically excluded drivers are given financial support to participate in racing at every level, from junior karting events to the Indy 500, we will continue to see an “only __ in the race” in the Indy 500 every few years, often in a one-time opportunity ride with little ability to be truly competitive.
Which brings me to the real question: Do racing fans want to see the very best drivers in the world, or are they content watching the people who have had obvious pipelines to get into the driver’s seat?
I know which one I prefer.
Chapter 39
The last Sunday in May
Mack stood on the dais as her name was announced over the loudspeaker and waved to the three hundred thousand fans spread across the grandstands and infield. Sponsor logos peppered her new fire suit, including an Indiana-based company that converted plastic bags into designer leggings and a giantEngine Starterspatch for her angel investors. Mack held Shaw’s hand and encouraged her to wave to the crowd. From behind, she heard Laurie, Wes, and Billie cheer loudly for her.
As she stepped off the stage, she saw Leo waiting for his turn. He’d qualified fourth, an excellent spot to stay out of trouble and vie for the win. He pushed his Ray-Bans off his face and gave her a smile big enough to show that perfect snaggletooth. He and Shaw bumped knuckles, and Mack couldn’t help but match his wide grin. “You ready to do this, Rookie?”
“I’ve been ready for a long time.” She looked out at the grandstands and knew Leo felt the same sense of awe as they stood together and stared out at the sea of people, vehicles, sound systems, and equipment. The Indianapolis 500 was truly a spectacle. It was more than a race. It was the carefully orchestrated routine of traditions: the Purdue University marching band, the Memorial Day tribute, singing “Back Home Again in Indiana,” the final parade laps of thirty-three precision machines gearing up for the biggest spectator event in the world.
The Indianapolis Motor Speedway was a track, the Indy 500 was a car race, butIndywas a feeling.
“Congrats on the Penske contract,” Mack said. “You’ll be drinking champagne out of crystal flutes for breakfast.” When she read about Leo’s move to the elite team, she’d been genuinely thrilled for him. She told herself it was stupid to feel hurt he hadn’t told her himself, that they’d only known each other a few weeks.
Leo’s face fell a little. “It’s a dream team, for sure. But it’s hard to leave JJR. Janet and I have been together a long time. I owe her everything.”
“You know the phone will still work, right? She’ll act annoyed but secretly love having you call to chat.”
“I already gave Janet my replacement recommendation.” When she read about Leo’s move to Penske, she’d wondered about the newly open seat at JJR but hadn’t let her hope extend that far. Leo flicked his gaze to Shaw, who was preoccupied with the spectacle, and lowered his voice. “I’ll still be based in Indy. I wanted a change, but ... well, hopefully it creates an opportunity for you.”
Pursuing something with Leo was like the line she’d run in qualifying—dangerous, with a high probability she’d crash into the wall, but worth the payoff if it worked out. Watching him watching her, his face an intoxicating mix of sweet and intense, she knew it was a risk she was willing to take.
“Rookie! Let’s do this!” Jericho Blair’s unmistakable burr echoed around the busy backstage as he and Boomer made their way to Mack and Leo. He whistled at a nearby photographer. “If these people online want to call us the Track Pack, let’s give ’em some pictures. Smile, assholes.”
Mack pulled Shaw into the photo and stood between the friends she’d never expected to have. Two more photographers pushed in for the shot, and then another and another. Mack hoped it made every racing outlet.
“You’ve got this, Rookie. All you have to do is cross the yard of bricks and you won’t have that littleRby your name next year,” Boomer said.
Her veins zinged at the possibility of returning here next year. Mere weeks ago, she’d have berated herself for the moment of desire, but she understood now that wishes, even if unrealized, wouldn’t break her. Hope could keep her going.
Mack turned to find Leo hunched over, listening to Shaw. Shaw bounced on her toes, braided pigtails bouncing. Billie had outdone herself on race day, with lots of glitter and checkered bows. “You used to be my favorite driver but now it’s my mom. You can be my second favorite driver. I want my mom to win!”
Leo grinned. “I hope I win, but it’s okay if your mom beats me. She’s worked really hard to be here.”
Shaw preened as if Leo had complimented her. “Oh, she’s definitely going to beat you. She can drive different types of carsandwith a broken hand.”
Leo threw his head back in laughter, and Mack glanced toward the dais so she wouldn’t keep watching Leo with her daughter. She motioned toward pit lane. “Good luck, Leo. If it’s not me, I hope it’s your win today.”
“Back at you, Rookie.” Leo leaned in. “I’ll see you ... tonight? To celebrate?”
She couldn’t look away from him, even with the chaos carrying on around them. He was unlike any man she’d ever known. Leo wasn’t threatened by someone else’s success, or afraid to be honest, and he kept his word. He was confident but never arrogant, gentle but not soft. He made her heart want one thing even while her head argued against it.
