The "other" 99

                       The "other" 99 

I told a regular reader that I might be coming to the end of my blog writing -

 "I'm closing in on 50 stories and I think I might be done". 

He said, "you may find more stories when you think of something that reminds you of another one".

That just happened.

I just finished watching FORMULA 1 ... a 10 episode doc series on Netflix
(because I'm in self-isolation for another week and I'm bored).

I'm not a fan of auto racing of any kind and have always wondered at the millions of dollars that individuals are willing to spend to own an F1 car and run the 20 race annual circuit attempting to beat the sport's leading cars sponsored by Mercedes, Ferrari, and Aston Martin and the billions more that those companies spend trying to own the sport.

Perhaps it's all that money in the sport that's the attraction or maybe it's the built-in danger or the frightening thought that if the crash is really bad, someone could die.

In Toronto, auto racing of any kind barely gets a mention in the press. From the Netflix film, I learned that Formula 1's most dominant athlete, the "Tom Brady/Wayne Gretzky" of the sport, is Lewis Hamilton who's won the world championship 6 times. I thought I was familiar with the names of every sports' most colorful athletes but I've never heard of Lewis Hamilton.

Whatever the reasons for its popularity, Formula 1 is watched by over 500 million people around the world every race season.

In 1999, Canada had an up-and-coming race car champion.
His name was Greg Moore from Maple Ridge, BC.

He competed in the 1998 Molson Indy in Toronto.

As mentioned, coverage of auto racing on the sports pages of Toronto's four daily newspapers is rare. However, while hosting the summertime Molson Indy race, the city embraced the sport and it drew huge crowds to Exhibition Place for a weekend of parties, concerts, and festivities finishing with the race on Sunday -- the same program format used by the Formula 1 circuit.

The kickoff of the weekend was the Driver's Party at one of the major downtown hotels.

When I arrived, it seemed and sounded like a New Year's Eve party, over-the-top festive. It was held in a huge ballroom, dressed for the occasion in racing motif and, of course, sponsored by the race title host, Molson Brewery.

Molson knows how to throw a party.

During the evening, I often heard frequent, sharp, loud cracks ...the sounds of balloons bursting. Scantily clad models were selling them for $25. each. Once you paid, you'd prick the balloon with a pin to find your prize inside. The proceeds went to charity.

Billboard sized photos of the Indy drivers filled the room.
Videos of previous races were projected onto the walls.
It was a fabulous spectacle with a sound system to match

While taking it all in, I was stopped by a friend and introduced to Greg Moore's parents. They were very excited about being in that room. They couldn't stop smiling, especially when their son, the driver joined our conversation - everybody but me seemed to be having fun.

I faked a smile and nodded in agreement for everything that was talked about but I really couldn't hear what they were saying. I found it very difficult to concentrate.

The only thing I could think of was ... why wasn't this couple upstairs in their hotel room, on their knees, praying to God that their son wouldn't be hurt on Sunday.

But, at the same time, as a parent, I understood. We all want the best for our children.

We all hope they find and love that special thing and that special person and we don't want to think of any downside.

We don't want to know about any downside.

However, I think about Greg every time I see auto racing on TV.

I had a very brief time with him. He was a really likable 23-year-old who's cherubic face belied the win-at-all-cost fire that was evident just below the surface. He was like other superstars I'd met; Orr and Mikita and Richard and Lindsay and Chuvalo ... so nice and unassuming on the outside - a whole different thing going on inside. Clearly, Greg loved his life, loved his sport, loved his success and, he told me, loved Gretzky - even though his car #99 was not a salute to his favorite hockey player.

I told Greg that his celebrity status would be of great value to fellow athletes, Special Olympians, and he agreed to attend our annual fundraiser in Toronto and pose for one of my fundraising photos (below).

Greg never had the chance to reach his full potential as an athlete. Although he earned 5 wins, 17 podiums & 5 poles. 

Sadly, we only had a brief glimpse of the success that Greg was chasing.

He crashed and died on Oct. 31, 1999,
at the Marlborough 500 in California

CART retired his 99 number.

Greg Moore was 24 years old.

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