Savage Words: Passion: A rock and glass reminds me not to lose it
I recently did a massive makeover in my basement. It’s something I’ve wanted to do for years. You know, a man cave to rival all man caves.
Instead, my basement in recent years has turned into a culmination of dirty clothes, stacks of papers, pizza stained dishes, and boxes and totes of old memorabilia that I had hoped to one day display.
About a month ago, I’d seen enough. I actually wrote myself a note and hung it right above my light switch in my bedroom. It read: “Finish the basement. Enough already.”
So, I did, or at least I’m in the process of it. New paint, new bookshelves, and updated TV apps have my basement making me feel proud of my past.
One thing in particular caught my eye: a rock. It’s nothing special, just a simple rock about an inch in width with the word PASSION engraved on the side. But I’ve kept it ever since it was gifted to me. Actually, that’s one thing that’s been tough in this revamping of my basement. Over the last 30-plus years of working in sports, I NEVER, EVER throw anything away. I’ve got little thank you notes in my basement dated 1993 from people I have no idea who they came from. But, I’ve never thrown it away.
This particular rock was given to me by Nell Fortner. She was the head coach that led the USA women’s basketball team to the Gold Medal at the 2000 Olympics. After the Gold, she was named the head coach for the WNBA’s Indiana Fever.
I was with her for two seasons at the Fever where I served as the team’s Director of Public Relations. When I resigned my position with the Fever to take over the same job with the Indianapolis 500, she gave me that rock as I was leaving.
“I’ve never known anyone with so much passion,” she said to me as she placed it in my hand as I walked out the door for the final time.
That meant a lot. I was full of passion in the height of my career. I hope it hasn’t faded over the years. I do my best to make sure it doesn’t.
Whenever I feel like the passion may be waning, I look at that rock. Although it gathered dust over the years as my basement sat stagnant, it was always on my work desk, and I glanced at it often. It sits next to an Indianapolis 500 glass that also reminds me of both my time with the Greatest Spectacle in Racing, but also of the passion that Roger Penske showed when I was working in IndyCar.
At the time I was there, Penske was nearly 70 years old. His passion never faded, even at that age. During the events of the 2006 Indianapolis 500 – my last one as the Director of Public Relations – his team’s actions have also always stayed with me. It showed passion, and it obviously worked.
Although just a one-day event, the Indianapolis 500 is actually a month-long affair. Teams begin practicing and testing at the beginning of May, they qualify in mid-May, and race the 500 on Memorial Day weekend.
There’s a Monday and Tuesday in the middle of the month where there’s no track activity. Everybody heads out of town for those two days. Drivers head back to their hometowns, many of which were in south Florida. The team members, such as tire changers, pit crew members, front office personnel, also took the two days off as well.
But in 2006 during that break when I walked from my office outside the Speedway to the media offices inside the oval, I noticed something.
The place was empty.
Empty.
A day earlier, 50,000 people were in the stands to watch qualifying. But on that day…empty.
However, when I looked down at pit lane, I saw about a half-dozen Team Penske members in their pit box. That was strange. Again, nobody was there. I walked down to see what they were up to. They were cleaning. Cleaning everything. A couple of dudes actually had toothbrushes out and were meticulously cleaning the toolboxes that surrounded their pit.
That was passion. Everybody else was gone, and they were cleaning their toolboxes with toothbrushes.
Penske driver Sam Hornish went on to win the 500 later that month. It was Penske’s 14th win at Indianapolis as a car owner.
I’ve never forgotten how Penske parlayed that passion into success. Obviously, passion works. He’s won the 500 a record 20 times.
As I grow older, I hope I never lose that passion. At the very least, I’ve got a rock and a glass to always remind me not to.