Mark Montieth: Am I blessed or what?’

He’s 84 years old, which qualifies as a long life. And given his chosen profession, he gets extra credit.

That’s why Mario Andretti resents any reference to the “Andretti Curse,” the cliché that travels within the grounds of the Indianapolis Motor Speedway to this day. Yes, he had more than his share of bad luck over the 29 years he competed in the Indianapolis 500. His son, Michael, also had his share of misfortune in his 16 races. Mario, however, views it all through a wide-angle lens that brings perspective.

“There’s no curse,” he said earlier this week from the upper deck of the Andretti hospitality facility at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway. “I don’t call it a curse.”

“Blessing” is a word he uses to describe his experiences with this place and this race since he arrived at the speedway in 1965—not to mention the rest of his career. The controversial ruling that took four months to reach in 1981, the accident at the start/finish line that eliminated him as the race began in 1982, the broken valve spring that took him out while leading in 1987, and other unavoidable mishaps that kept him from winning more than one race haven’t been forgotten. But with each year they fade further into the background amid the bigger picture of what could be described as the greatest racing career of them all.

“The sport has been phenomenal,” Andretti said. “It gave me so many positive experiences. I accomplished more than I ever deserved in the sport. Nine hundred races in my life, and I only missed two because of injury.

“Am I blessed or what? Do I have anything to complain about? No. I’m at peace.”

Record-setter

Andretti’s versatile racing resume defies most attention spans. Winning the 1969 Indy 500, in a backup car no less, is practically a footnote. He won big in IndyCar, Formula One, NASCAR and World Sportscar racing, not to mention midget and sprints. He’s one of three drivers to win major races on road, paved oval and dirt courses in the same year. He is the only driver to be voted U.S. Driver of the Year by automotive and racing journalists in three decades. He was selected Driver of the Century by both the Associated Press and RACER magazine.

One of the accomplishments he values most is that, despite the misfortune that prevented him from finishing the Indy 500 all but five times in 29 efforts, he completed his career having led more laps than all but two drivers, Ralph DePalma and Al Unser Sr. He calls it “my comforting thing,” because it reflects the longitude and latitude of his history with the race. He finished third as a 25-year-old rookie in 1965 and fifth as a 53-year-old veteran in 1993, his second-to-last race. He qualified ninth the following year but was forced out by ignition problems after 23 laps.

All in all, he set one-lap qualifying records five times and four-lap records four times, finished second twice and was 11 times in the top 10, and produced the first 200 mph lap in speedway history in practice in 1977.

And yet he is the subject of a damning joke that has become its own cliché. Perhaps you’ve heard the one that asks for the four most famous words on race day. The expected answer is, “Gentlemen, start your engines.” The punch line is, “Mario is slowing down.”

Not slowing down

The thing is, Andretti is not slowing down, and that’s as much a story as his driving career. He has never missed an Indy 500 since arriving 59 years ago. He doesn’t just show up for the race, though; he’s an intimate part of it throughout the month. He’s a consultant to the Andretti Global race team, which has four drivers in this year’s event, remains a mentor to drivers, and is a fan favorite and media darling.

Ambassador only begins to describe his role.

“I love the fans,” he said. “They want a little bit of my time, they get it. I love the series and what it’s meant for me throughout my career. Indianapolis, this has been our mecca. I’m privileged to be part of it.”

Nobody appreciates an ambassador more than IMS President Doug Boles, who considers Andretti “one of our iconic figures,” at the very least equal to the four-time winners and other legendary drivers.

“A lot of that is because of the fact [that] once he stepped out of a race car, he continued to stay involved in the sport,” Boles said.

Andretti spoke at the 500 Festival Breakfast at the Brickyard last Saturday. Boles introduced him and mentioned that, growing up an A.J. Foyt fan, he felt obligated to dislike Andretti, given their polar-opposite backgrounds and natures. Andretti, to say the least, has since won him over.

“Over the last decade, I’ve grown very close to him,” Boles said. “He’s become one of my favorite people.”

His varied roles fill up the month, but Andretti wishes there were more demands on his time. He faces the same challenge as anyone who works with his or her offspring in any line of work. He has experience, he has expertise, he has passion. But he also has to remember to stand back and let the younger generations do their thing, as difficult as that can be.

“I pitch in whatever I feel I can be of any help,” he said of his role with Michael’s operation. “But I stay clear. I don’t have a specific job. I’m a big-time cheerleader, but at the same time, I know what’s going on. I’m not oblivious. When they talk to me, they’re not talking to a wall.

“Sometimes we don’t agree on everything. They can listen or not. I don’t want to create any conflict. I want to be strictly positive. If we don’t agree, I can walk away.”

Andretti, of course, has special interest in grandson Marco, who will compete in his 19th consecutive Indy 500 on Sunday. He will be in Marco’s pit for the race but won’t speak up unless he believes it’s vitally important. Mostly, he’ll “sit back and watch and be my usual nervous Nellie.”

Does he offer advice to Marco these days?

“Only if he asks.”

Does Marco ask?

“Not very often.”

Is that a disappointment?

“It does disappoint me. It’s probably self-pride. Sometimes these younger drivers don’t want to confess what they don’t know. But I’m there to help. I don’t have all the answers, but sometimes experience can be valuable. It’s a very delicate situation sometimes.”

Andretti was disappointed to lose one of his roles at the speedway this year. For about 15 years, he drove a two-seater race car, exposing celebrities and paying customers to the thrill of traveling at near-race speeds.

He goes off the record to explain why he believes it happened. But at least in that role, which he also performed at other IndyCar courses, he proved he could still pilot a vehicle at 200 mph past the age of 80. He said it was a breeze. In fact, he test-drove a car for Michael at 240 mph on a straight line two years ago at Cape Canaveral, Florida.

“Oh, yeah; I’ll do that,” he said nonchalantly. “I’ll do that tomorrow.”

Andretti completed 3,040 laps in the 500, which ranks 11th all-time. It would have been many more with better luck. But he’s probably the all-time leader in laps completed in the two-seater. It was the perfect job for him. He not only got to strap on a helmet and drive a race car again, he was able to connect with the public and promote the sport.

“It has tremendous value,” he said of the program. “I took Lady Gaga out in 2016, and it got 2 billion hits on Twitter. Two billion. With a B.”

He also took out a couple of former Pacers, Darnell Hillman and Bob Netolicky, three years ago. They still talk about it.

Hillman, a speed freak who claims to have gone 165 mph on a desert highway in his 1973 Corvette, was the last to go out that day. He didn’t realize until it was over that Andretti had been his driver.

Hillman had heard about the “200 MPH Club” sponsored by the Indy Racing Experience, when, for a few thousand dollars, anyone could ride with Andretti the day after the race and receive a ring and certificate to commemorate the occasion. He wanted to become a member.

He nearly did anyway, before the race.

“We take off, go around and, when we get back, I’m taking a while to get out of the car,” the 6-foot-9 Hillman recalled. “The driver gets out of the car, and it’s Mario Andretti! I think, ‘Oh, my goodness!’

“All the two-seaters out there have governors [to regulate speed] on them. Mario’s is the only one without a governor. We go back to the trailer, and Mario is taking his suit off. I say, ‘Mario, I have to ask you a question. You don’t like following the rules, do you?’ He’s grinning, and he brought Neto and me in real close. And that’s when he told us, ‘I got you guys up to 197 miles an hour.’ I said, ‘Man, if I had known that! With you driving? Mario, let me get the ring! I want the ring!’”

Race ambassador

Mario wears a couple of rings. They represent the yin and yang of his driving career. The one on the left hand was awarded for winning the IndyCar national championship in 1984, when he won six races on the circuit. On the right hand, he wears one for the 1981 race. Bobby Unser was celebrated as the winner following the race, but Andretti was declared the winner when official results were posted the following morning. Unser had been found guilty of passing eight cars while exiting the pits under a yellow light. Unser, however, was re-declared the winner in September after a lawsuit and review.

Andretti, who had passed two cars coming out of the pits, has kept the black-and-white checked ring he received as the winner. Although a reminder of one of his unhappier moments in the 500, it also reflects the defiant pride and competitive spirit that made him a worldwide champion.

He laughs about the controversy now. He’s not the official winner but believes he should be. That’s racing.

In life, he’s still standing. Still participating, even. Curse-free.•

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Montieth, an Indianapolis native, is a longtime newspaper reporter and freelance writer. He is the author of three books: “Passion Play: Coach Gene Keady and the Purdue Boilermakers,” “Reborn: The Pacers and the Return of Pro Basketball to Indianapolis,” and “Extra Innings: My Life in Baseball,” with former Indianapolis Indians President Max Schumacher.