After taking our seats in Section 7, we watched a seemingly lost and confused Tony George, walk slowly up the aisle next to us. Adorned in his fashionable green pastel green pants, he looked more like he was searching for the 19th hole at deep south country club.
It was a surreal moment, as I was now staring at the guy I had just described to my boys and who really is responsible for tearing apart the sport I dearly love and miss. I resisted the urge to shout an obscenity at Anton – instead I just yelled “Hey Tony – we used to have 100,000 people at this race." He clearly heard me and just kept walking. Kirk P., Claremont, CA