So you want to be a race car driver, do you? Well, welcome to the club, because pretty much everybody who’s reading this mag wants to do the same thing. How in the wide, wide, world of sports does someone become a race driver, and what exactly is a race driver, anyway?
In my mind, simply having a race car doesn’t make you a race car driver. It might make you someone who drives a race car, and it might even help you on the path to becoming a race driver, but the simple fact of owning the thing doesn’t necessarily make you a true racer. Sure, building a killer car that’s clearly quicker than anything else will let you win a lot of races and proves you can put a car together, but it doesn’t guarantee you as a shoe.
From my perspective, after spending years in the sport, a racer is someone who has the combination of skills that lets them compete in a series where equipment is grounded and equalized, be it club or pro. A racer is a racer, whether they get paid to do it or not.
With that in mind, racing is a business, pure and simple. It’s a financially driven sport, and it absolutely costs money to make money. To succeed as a racer, it helps if the driver is a combination of savvy businessperson, marketing guru, self-promoter, politician, endurance athlete and engineer. Top-flight drivers are an enigma in the sports world, and as such, are generally misunderstood.
All that is great to know, but what it really boils down to is this: to make something of yourself as a driver, you have to find a way to make money. A young driver trying to make it to the top is more likely to get there if he’s fortunate enough to have access to lots of green bills. I know it sounds jaded, but it’s true, and it’s becoming truer as time goes on, especially in the current economy. In order to survive, race teams must turn a profit, and there are a ton of incredibly capable drivers out there who, despite their talent, still have to bring money to the table. This is exactly the area where things get tough for me and for a lot of other aspiring drivers. It’s so rough in this respect that there’s a joke in the sport that the world’s best driver is probably flipping burgers somewhere because he or she simply didn’t have the funds to keep going. If I knew how to raise a budget, I’d be running the Daytona 24, Sebring and Le Mans in 2012 in a Porsche GT3 Cup or GT3 RSR. But I don’t, so I’ll be watching those races on SPEED Channel from the comfort of my couch.
A young driver trying to make it to the top is more likely to get there if he’s fortunate enough to have access to lots of green ...
If knowing all that doesn’t deter you from wanting to give it this profession a shot, good. It didn’t sideline me, and I’m glad I persevered. Once you’ve figured out how to bring/get/steal/beg/borrow/trade, you have to decide on which path you want to pursue in the sport, and to me, pretty much all of them are valid. The cost of admission might be more to take certain paths, but the payoff may be better as well. If you’re racing solely to make money, you may have chosen the wrong sport.
Everyone has their opinions on which version of motorsports has the best drivers; personally, I make no distinction as to a skill-level difference in a comparison between a world-class NHRA funny car driver like John Force, versus a multi-time Sprint Cup champion like Jimmie Johnson, versus current F1 Champion Sebastian Vettel, versus WRC stud Sebastian Loeb.
As far as I’m concerned, the reason all those drivers made it to the top of each of their respective categories is because they are just plain great. Making comparisons between them is like comparing apples to apple juice — same fruit, maybe, but in a totally different form. Sure, we all have our favorites, but please don’t be one of those people who thinks that what NASCAR star Jeff Gordon does all day is easier than what F1 standout Fernando Alonso does because Jeff appears to just be turning left. Take a ride with him during a race or any top-tier Sprint Cup driver, and I guarantee you’ll find out that you’re sorely mistaken.