Beyond the Flag
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Indy 500: Senior Driver Buddy Lazier Preserves Unappreciated History

By Ric

May 22, 2016; Indianapolis, IN, USA; Verizon Indy Car driver Buddy Lazier sits in his car during practice for the Indianapolis 500 at Indianapolis Motor Speedway. Mandatory Credit: Brian Spurlock-USA TODAY Sports
May 22, 2016; Indianapolis, IN, USA; Verizon Indy Car driver Buddy Lazier sits in his car during practice for the Indianapolis 500 at Indianapolis Motor Speedway. Mandatory Credit: Brian Spurlock-USA TODAY Sports /
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May 22, 2016; Indianapolis, IN, USA; Verizon Indy Car driver Buddy Lazier sits in his car during practice for the Indianapolis 500 at Indianapolis Motor Speedway. Mandatory Credit: Brian Spurlock-USA TODAY Sports
May 22, 2016; Indianapolis, IN, USA; Verizon Indy Car driver Buddy Lazier sits in his car during practice for the Indianapolis 500 at Indianapolis Motor Speedway. Mandatory Credit: Brian Spurlock-USA TODAY Sports /

Buddy Lazier’s bid for the 2017 Indy 500 is humble. That makes it the perfect representation of the unloved era that made him a champion.

Buddy Lazier is 49—in car number and in age.

The former, the #49 machine, isn’t a full-time entry, and it’s fielded by Lazier and his father’s tiny team, which makes the 1996 Indianapolis 500 champion a long-shot to win this year’s race.

The latter makes him the oldest driver out there. It also makes him the keeper of an under-celebrated era in the Indy 500’s lore.

Lazier was at the “Greatest Spectacle in Racing” during what some would call the peak years. When popularity exploded, he’d have an entry, attempting the race each year from 1989 to 1995 and making the field three times.

But those years weren’t his peak. The Colorado native hit high altitude in the unsung days of the Indy Racing League, when the sport’s perceived stars were on the CART tour that didn’t stop in Indianapolis.

From 1996 to 2000, Lazier finished no worse than 7th in the race. He was victor in 1996 and runner-up in 2009, with another 2nd place finish in 1998. The second of the 2nd place finishes made Lazier the closest competition for Juan Pablo Montoya, who dominated in 2000 to commence the era of CART participation (under IRL rules) in the Indy 500.

In those days, Lazier was a big name. He won the series championship in 2000 and took four wins in a five-race stretch the next year. Lazier even qualified for the International Race of Champions, where he bested NASCAR drivers in stock cars on the Chicagoland Speedway in 2002.

The last flash came in 2005. By that time, the well-funded teams were in the IRL, and they brought the factory engine support with them. Driving for Panther Racing, Lazier put in a gritty performance to take a car with a broken front wing to 5th place.

You’d expect nothing less from the guy who won the race with a different kind of body damage: a fractured back.

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He went on to finish in 6th place at Michigan and Kentucky that season on his part-time schedule, hanging tough in a sport that was evolving beyond him.

Now, he’s barely hanging on. The family team embarks on its fifth try at the 500. In 2015, they failed to qualify. The other three efforts yielded 31st, 32nd, and 30th place finishes—all DNFs.

To understand why an entry with so small a chance would even bother, one has to understand the era that Lazier came from. In the IRL, even the most impressive outfits looked more suited to field a weekly sprint car at your local dirt track. Some of the drivers even had day jobs during the week.

It was a series many may have wished had never existed, but one that did. And whether charmingly raw or laughably unprofessional, it was the series that offered motorsport’s greatest prize. It sent to Indianapolis Motor Speedway short trackers who had been forgotten, professionals who’d had to go make a real living, and talented shoes like Lazier who never quite found their shot in CART.

The kind of people you’d chat with in line for a tenderloin at the track were now the kind of people in team uniforms.

Lazier comes from a time some would rather forget. The turbocharged song was replaced with the drudgery of naturally aspirated engines. Sleek Lolas and Reynards became awkwardly proportioned Dallaras and G-Forces. Their heroes became, to them, scrubs.

But the Indy 500 takes place in the Crossroads of America, appropriate for the many paths drivers and teams take to get there. All eras deserve representation in the celebration of motorsports. Lazier’s the standard-bearer for his.

He’s doing so in the most fitting way. The IRL’s top driver, Lazier, is now driving for IndyCar’s humblest team. His effort is the kind of grassroots band that got to exist because of the IRL. It’s the one facing battles just to get onto the Speedway—battles that other teams could just pay to have disappear.

Lazier’s peak years at Indy may not have been the prettiest. They may not have been the most spectacular, the most imaginative, or the most inspirational.

Neither is his entry.

Even still, Lazier will have a place in this year’s 500, and his place will look a lot like his career should in the 100 previous editions:

Maybe not at the top of your list, but characterized by toughness, appealing in its humility, and—without a doubt—every bit deserving of being there.

Lazier has raced through the sport’s least appreciated days. Now, he’ll contest the 101st Indianapolis 500 in what will seem like the sport’s least appreciated car, fielded by two racers who just can’t stay away, even when tight resources try to push back.

Next: Way-Too-Early Indy 500 Driver Rankings

That’s a fitting tribute to a time when all the entries looked like the outfit fielding 49.