Fast Friends

Think car racing is an individual sport? The four drivers of Andretti Green Racing are showing the IRL otherwise

So there's this racing joke that starts like this:

A Scotsman, an American, a Brazilian and an Englishman hop into their race cars and pull up to the starting line, where they wait along with 18 other drivers. Seconds later, the green flag drops. Engines wail, tires smoke and the cars tear down the track. All except the Scotsman, the American, the Brazilian and the Englishman, who instead climb from their rides for a powwow.

The Scotsman speaks first. "Gentlemen," he says with a hearty brogue. "I recommend following my line. It was fastest this morning."

"Excellent!" the American exclaims. "And did you fellas get my setup specs? I gave them to your mechanics yesterday."

"Yep, thanks again," the Brazilian says. "If any of you need a drafting partner, just give me a signal."

"Duly noted," the Englishman adds. "But most important, let's have a lovely time out there. Be safe. And the fastest guy buys dinner tonight."

The four drivers exchange pleasantries and climb back into their cars.

"After you," the Scotsman says.

"No, after you," the American replies.

"Don't be silly," the Brazilian chimes in.

"I insist."

"Absolutely not," the Englishman answers. "After you … "

It has to be a joke. Race car drivers might be congenial, but they don't really like each other; they're too competitive. And they'd never offer help. That would be like top chefs sharing signature recipes or magicians revealing secrets. In a sport where winners and losers are separated by fractions of a second, friendships are distractions, and distractions are as useful as a blown engine. So it has to be a joke, right?

THUNDERHEADS ROLL past the outskirts of Jackson, Mich., but the rain never materializes. This is good news for the folks who've come out in droves for the Saturday-evening IndyCar autograph session, always a highlight of the town's RaceWeek Festival in July. Gearheads, groupies and curious locals line up in anticipation of meeting the men-and woman-who will face off in tomorrow's Firestone Indy 400, the 11th event in the 2005 Indy Racing League circuit.

A few minutes before 6 p.m., the four drivers of Andretti Green Racing linger in a nearby parking lot. There's Scotsman Dario Franchitti, American Bryan Herta, Brazilian Tony Kanaan and Englishman Dan Wheldon. They look like frat brothers hanging out before a history seminar. They finish each other's sentences and laugh before the punch lines. There are no awkward pauses or uncomfortable silences. They gather around Kanaan, last year's IRL champ, and listen to his story—really listen—not because they're trying to be polite, but because they're friends. True friends.

It's an important distinction, since for much of the season their friendship has been a point of contention: a PR stunt, their detractors claim, a sham orchestrated to counter Danicamania.

Never mind that the evidence suggests otherwise: like the race in Nashville, where three of the four dropped out but stayed around to cheer Franchitti on to victory; or their 12-hour Brazilian "mini-LeMans," in which they raced go-karts together on vacation. Yes, they share information, as they did when Wheldon mimicked Franchitti's setup in St. Petersburg and won, and when Kanaan did likewise to take the pole at the Indy 500. Whether they're playfully cutting each other off on their scooters or cutting each other up during a photo shoot, their connection is genuine. "I know it sounds cheesy," says Wheldon, IRL's 2003 Rookie of the Year. "Not only do I like these guys, but I care about them."

Just past 6 p.m., the Michigan signing session begins. While Danica Patrick has more autograph hounds waiting for her, the Andretti drivers have more fun. When Kanaan poses for a picture with a teenage fan, Wheldon grabs his teammate's butt. Franchitti then musses Wheldon's carefully styled coif. Kanaan insists that a youngster give him an autograph. When a portly pair of men approach wearing "Say No to Danica" hats, Wheldon laughingly asks his PR handler if he can don one for a photo. (The answer is no.)

Actually, Andretti Green Racing's most memorable team decision to date was a boycott of a similar session one week earlier in Milwaukee. According to Franchitti, the foursome weren't happy with the arrangements—one line for Danica, another line for all the other drivers—so the guys staged their own impromptu signing at a local restaurant. "It was a management decision," Franchitti says. "Our team was protecting our interests." They caught hell from the league and made headlines across the country, but they stuck together.

And that's exactly what Michael Andretti, CEO of Andretti Green Racing, had in mind when he assembled the league's only four-car team. Fast lap times were just part of the equation. Andretti's instincts—he won 42 CART races in his career, following in dad Mario's tread marks—told him that driver chemistry was equally essential. "Mike said he expected all of us to work together as a team," Herta says. "No exceptions."

In December 2002, Andretti and partners Kim Green and Kevin Savoree purchased Team Green (as it was formerly called) and immediately signed Franchitti, a veteran driver with roguish charm. "We'd raced together," Andretti says. "He's a guy you can rely on to keep the team on the right path." After Andretti retired early on in the 2003 season, he found his successor in Kanaan, "a great driver who'd never had a chance with a great team," Andretti says. Next, the owners sought young talent, someone they could mold and nurture. Kim Green had been keeping tabs on Wheldon, who's now 27. "I didn't know him at all," Andretti says, "but he fit right in with the others." A stroke of bad luck resulted in the final piece of the puzzle. When an injury sidelined Franchitti for much of the 2003 season, Herta did so well as a replacement that the team kept him around for 2004.

Of course, betting that four intense competitors would all get along was a roll of the dice. "They took a big risk adding so many drivers," says Helio Castroneves, winner of the Indy 500 in 2001 and '02. "The more heads you have, the more chances they might not agree." Even the four drivers expressed reservations. "At first I was skeptical," says the soft-spoken Herta. "I was tentative about sharing information."

Those doubts have long since disappeared. In 2004, just their second season together, all four drivers finished in the top 10. Franchitti (sixth) notched two victories. Herta (ninth) earned 10 top-10s. And Wheldon finished second overall to Kanaan, who became the first driver ever in any major American racing series to complete every possible lap (3,305).

This year? More of the same. Heading into the season finale on Oct. 16 in Fontana, Calif., all four drivers have won races, and Andretti Green has taken 10 checkereds in 16 events. The teammates hold three of the top four spots in the standings (Herta is eighth), and on an April afternoon in St. Pete, they finished one through four. But the real story has been Wheldon. The points leader for all but one week, he punctuated his breakout season by winning the Indy 500, one of his four victories in the first five races.

Needless to say, the boyishly handsome Brit is having a blast. As the Michigan sky darkens, and the hour-long autograph session comes to an end, Wheldon keeps signing. Ten minutes. Twenty minutes. The last driver left can't stop flashing his crooked smile, chatting up fans, pulling out his black felt pen. Everyone wants a handshake, a picture, a moment, and he's more than willing to oblige—especially with the ladies of High Velocity promotions, who are gushing over Indy's "it" driver. (Dressed in tight red jumpsuits, they're the racing equivalent of ring-card girls.)

"Here, let me sign this for you," Wheldon says to one of the women, a raffish grin crossing his face.

"Are you going out tonight?" she asks, gazing at the glossy 8x10 official Dan Wheldon photo on which he has scribbled, "Top needs to be unzipped more."

"I can't," Wheldon replies. "I'm working on Sunday."

Flanked by security, he turns and saunters off through the parking lot. The night isn't over. He has to drive to the track and rendezvous with his teammates for their traditional prerace meeting. And he's not about to let his guard down around these guys. Since signing with Andretti Green, Wheldon has been the primary target of the team's practical jokes. He didn't get riled when the other three set up fake TV appointments for him, or took his luggage and checked him out of his hotel, or threw pies in his face and trashed his custom-made suit. But the memory of an April day last year brings a stream of profanity to Wheldon's lips. While he toured a Japanese museum, his loving teammates snuck into his hotel room, drained the toilet, turned off the water valve and each left a souvenir in the bowl. Then they shut all the windows and cranked the heat.

No one goes unscathed with this bunch. Franchitti was pied during a live radio show. Kanaan watched his $5,000 mountain bike get hacked to pieces off-camera while he was in the middle of a TV interview. And Herta's sports car was "removed" from a parking lot. All in the name of team bonding.

But when is close too close? At what point does caring become a liability on the track? IndyCar drivers aren't really teammates like, say, Shaq and D-Wade. In racing, there's room for only one on Victory Lane. Some drivers, such as two-time IRL champ Sam Hornish Jr., make a concerted effort not to befriend teammates. Andretti himself raises a red flag: "I am concerned that they'll hesitate. What happens when they give each other extra room and other guys wind up passing?"

Even the drivers admit their friendship occasionally affects their approach. Wheldon is as aggressive as they come, but he thinks twice about his tactics when one of his teammates is in the vicinity. "I race these guys hard," he says, "but I calculate the risk factor."

In other words, it's not as simple as win-atall-costs. "Taking care of each other is my first priority," says the 30-year-old Kanaan. "It's a very selfish sport, but there is more to life than racing."

That's not to say the road has been free of speed bumps. Franchitti tells of many times when the teammates have butted heads because of hard racing. At Phoenix in March, Hornish was leading Franchitti late in the race when Wheldon got between them coming out of a pit stop. Not entirely sure that he was a lap down, Wheldon wouldn't let Franchitti pass before getting word from his crew-which didn't come until three laps later because Dan said he didn't hear a radio transmission. By the time Wheldon made way for Franchitti, it was too late. Hornish won and a very angry Franchitti finished fourth. The two teammates didn't speak for a week, until all four Andretti Green drivers came together for a hotel sit-down to clear the air.

It was a pivotal moment in the season, and one that brought them even closer. "If there's an issue," Wheldon says, "we sort it out."

IT'S SUNDAY afternoon at Michigan International Speedway. A Scotsman, an American, a Brazilian and an Englishman hop into their race cars. Herta is on the pole, his third of the season. Wheldon starts fourth, Kanaan 11th, Franchitti 14th. When the green flag drops, the four drivers don't stop to chat; they drive like hellcats.

By lap 56, Herta holds a comfortable lead, but his friends now ride his tail, second through fourth. On lap 123, it's the same running order-Herta, Wheldon, Kanaan, Franchitti-and again on lap 171. Will there be a repeat of their St. Pete sweep? Not quite. On the 200th lap, Herta edges out Wheldon by .0374 of a second, while Kanaan finishes fourth and Franchitti seventh.

Clearly, the foursome's friendship hasn't hurt their performance. Everything is great—for now. "I tell the guys to take it all in," Andretti says inside the team's hospitality tent. "It's a special time, but it won't last."

True enough. There's talk of Wheldon being lured away by NASCAR or Formula One, rumors he hasn't dispelled. "Any career questions will be answered shortly," he says in Michigan, carefully skirting the issue. "I'll do whatever I deem best." And who knows how much longer Herta, who's 35, and Franchitti, who's 32, will keep racing. (Only five of the league's 22 drivers are over the age of 30.)

That's why the four teammates and friends, are savoring every moment of this season. When Herta leaves Victory Lane in Michigan, his teammates will be waiting to help him celebrate. Ask any one of the guys—the Scotsman, the American, the Brazilian or the Englishman—and he'll tell you they've all won.

No joke.

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