THINGS TO DO

David Letterman gave IndyCar another platform

Curt Cavin
curt.cavin@indystar.com

For David Letterman, comedy first intersected with motor sports early in the 1971 Indianapolis 500.

Jim McKay, the lead announcer of ABC's race coverage, tossed the airtime to a lanky 24-year-old reporter at the north end of Indianapolis Motor Speedway. So much for an introduction; McKay misidentified the Indianapolis native.

Leaning over an infield fence, Letterman started the interview on cue, then apparently wasn't sure what to say when driver Mario Andretti ended his description of a crash.

"What about the traffic, the faster cars coming up to the slower cars now," Letterman asked the 1969 500 champion.

Stupefied, Andretti awkwardly paused. To this day, Andretti laughs at the video.

"It's one of the greatest questions of all time," he said. "You could tell he had to ask something, but he didn't know what that should be."

Letterman hasn't stopped talking or making people laugh, but he has learned the sport despite saying he's "still a little shaky." Part of that is having Indianapolis roots. The other, practice.

Since becoming a late-night talk show host in 1982, Letterman has talked motor sports better than anyone with such a platform, including noted car guy Jay Leno.

Take a stroll through video clips of the past 33 years. Almost everyone who's anyone in motor sports, including Andretti on multiple occasions, has been invited to New York to talk racing on Dave's show.

"I even did the Top 10 list," Andretti said. "And I didn't screw it up."

Four-time Indianapolis 500 winner Rick Mears proudly recounts memories from appearances on Letterman's show. So does 1986 champion Bobby Rahal. Ditto for Juan Pablo Montoya, Dario Franchitti, Tony Kanaan, Ryan Hunter-Reay and Will Power, among other 500 winners and IndyCar champions.

"He's such a legend," said Power, who watched Letterman even as a boy in Australia. "I told my wife last year, 'I have to win the championship so I can get on Letterman's show,' and I did."

The excitement is mutual.

"They're nice kids, great kids," said Letterman, who capitalizes on commercial breaks with Franchitti to ask questions about another Scot, 1965 Indy 500 winner Jim Clark. "They're smart. They're tremendous athletes, and they make great guests.

"Whenever we have a guy on people say, 'Geesh, that kid was fantastic,' and they are. They're worldly, very sophisticated, and it's a lot of fun for me."

Opportunity roars

Letterman's start in professional broadcasting came as a weatherman on what is now WTHR-13. Although he followed racing in the 1950s and '60s, he never imagined owning a team.

Letterman's eventual tie was "Jungle" Jack Hanna, the longtime director of the Columbus (Ohio) Zoo and a Letterman show regular. Hanna was Bobby Rahal's neighbor and Graham's godfather. When Rahal won the 500, Letterman asked about having him on the show.

Rahal called Letterman during the next IndyCar race held in East Rutherford, N.J., and they went to dinner. Letterman often says Rahal is the only person to have picked up the tab, which Rahal appropriately considers a joke. Letterman said it isn't.

"After 33 years, he's still the only one," Letterman said.

Over the years, Letterman was approached about becoming a partner in a race team, but no deal was struck. In the early 1990s, Letterman surprised Rahal by saying he'd be open to joining his young team if the opportunity presented itself. In 1995, it did.

"Me and (partner) Carl Hogan were going our separate ways, and my first phone call was to Dave," Rahal said. "I said, 'Here's your chance,' and he said, 'I'm in.' "

The amount of Letterman's investment hasn't been revealed, but Rahal said they've always been near-equal partners. Today, they share in Brownsburg-based Rahal Letterman Lanigan Racing with Chicago entrepreneur Mike Lanigan.

"Hard to believe it's been 20 years this year," Rahal said of Letterman's involvement.

Rahal said conversations with Letterman are frequent and span the spectrum of interests, including fatherhood. Even serious topics have light moments.

"I don't think he can help not being funny," Rahal said. "He's so fast, so quick-witted. With him (humor) is natural."

Letterman was particularly close with the race team's longtime general manager, Scott Roembke, who like Letterman had been an Indianapolis schoolboy versed in skipping out to IMS in May. Roembke knew the Indianapolis 500 as well as official race historian Donald Davidson did. Letterman soaked up the stories.

When Roembke died in 2012, Letterman was in Irvington for the friend's final story.

"Indy means so much to Dave, and I don't think he will ever miss the 500 no matter what he's doing," Rahal said.

Growing a different audience

Spend 10 minutes rolling through YouTube clips of race car drivers on Letterman's show. An hour will fly by.

Letterman poked Dan Wheldon for winning "in ignominy" in 2005 due to the hysteria surrounding Danica Patrick's near-win as a rookie. After Wheldon won again in '11, Letterman joked about the return to unemployment.

Wheldon retaliated both times, blaming Letterman for employing Patrick and saying $2.6 million was "the best unemployment check."

Letterman told Dixon that all a driver's helmet does "is keep your hair straight." He asked Franchitti why he wasn't penalized for "racing with (his) dogs" in the car.

Hunter-Reay, who drove for Letterman's team in 2007 and '08, took a zinger after winning last year's race for winning for Andretti Autosport.

"Why didn't you win the 500 for us?" Letterman asked. "Did you think we were kidding?"

Hunter-Reay tried to say he was the race's top rookie for Letterman.

Letterman deadpanned: "That's nice."

Kanaan told Letterman in a 2013 appearance that he had "the pleasure of sitting here after beating you" in the 500. Letterman calls Montoya, a Colombian, "Zorro."

Mostly, though, the conversations are focused, a chance to draw the audience into the sport Letterman loves. That's by design, he said.

"A lot of people don't know what these cars are, they don't know what they look like, they don't know what they're capable of and you want to give them a sense of what it takes to control one, what they've got underneath them," Letterman said. "That's where the skill is, that's where the athleticism is, that's where the delight of the race is, to see these guys manipulate these machines."

To Letterman, the message is personal. He wants his son, Harry, an 11-year-old who grew up on the East Coast, to understand what Indy means.

"My responsibility now is to impose on him the excitement, the passion and the connection to my hometown," Letterman said.

Follow Star reporter Curt Cavin on Twitter: @curtcavin.