I turned 45 while shopping for cheap rubber boots in the Empire State. 

Horseheads, New York, is a quaint town nestled in the Finger Lakes region, but as the clock struck midnight last September, there I was in a 24-hour superstore, fishing through waterproof footwear in the sporting goods section. Water danced on the facility roof, reminding us that the Verizon IndyCar Series race at historic Watkins Glen International could be run in the same rain that could fall on my birthday parade. So, there I was, shelling out 12 bucks on some rubber shells for my feet.

I don’t always travel well prepared. 

They say rain is the ultimate equalizer in racing. Ask drivers their thoughts, and you certainly find balance in the answers. I have yet to meet an open-wheel driver who doesn’t say they welcome rain in a race – who doesn’t mention the optics of the rooster tail sprays, the strategy of finding the right grip, the challenge of knowing when to push the puddles or when to let up.

 “The Art of Racing in the Rain” is more than just a book title (a book which will create optical precipitation, by the way), it’s a way of life in the Verizon IndyCar Series. With a schedule featuring a variety of spring and summer road- and street-course events, the possibility of wet racing always exists. It requires an additional discipline for the competitors, but what about the broadcasters? I won’t go as far as to say it’s a barrel of monkeys. It’s just a fun curveball that, like for the drivers, tests the boundaries of our craft. That aspect is rewarding.

I love broadcasting the races for the Advance Auto Parts INDYCAR Radio Network. I’ve been very fortunate in my career to have attended an array of sporting events in varying media capacities: Super Bowls, Final Fours, NBA and MLB playoffs, tennis tournaments and golf events. They are all a privilege, yet the routine is always the same. Attend event, discover storylines, conduct interviews, tell a story. Rinse and Repeat. 

Calling a race on radio requires a different energy. I’ve been a part of more than 150 Indy car broadcasts, and the excitement and adrenaline never dissipates. When the elements decide to add a rinse cycle, that energy morphs into on-air survival. We have an obligatory time window to fill, but how? You could say we resort to our basic broadcasting instincts.

We talk. We talk to each other, we talk to the audience, we talk to drivers. We talk to crew chiefs and strategists, race officials and track dignitaries. We talk to fans and volunteers. We take the show off the road. 

Rainy days are always best when spent with friends. That’s what we do. On Sunday at Barber Motorsports Park, our entire broadcast team knew the forecast going in, so we were ready.

Wally Leavitt, the radio network general manager, plays air traffic control, while lead announcer Mark Jaynes expertly handles the cockpit, with analyst Anders Krohn his trusty co-pilot. Our previously assigned seats become irrelevant and the airwaves become a main cabin of festival seating – each of us hopping around to inform to the best of our abilities. 

During Sunday’s rain delay, Nick Yeoman sacrificed his dry clothing and manscaped hair to leave his spot calling action in the turns to jump down to pit road. Pit reporters Michael Young, Rob Howden and Dave Furst found refuge from the rain while conducting interviews under tents or temporary garages.

My broadcast position inside the Barber Motorsports Vintage Museum was much more dry and comfortable, but brought with it a sense of some helplessness. I listened in on the intercom, hearing Wally direct the traffic, hearing Mark conduct the orchestra and hearing Nick, Michael, Dave and Rob play every instrument available. I chimed in with a few observations and interviews of my own, each time aware it was my turn to add reprieve for the others as they worked on the next few pages of a script evolving on the fly. 

It was a great chance to illuminate the personalities of the Verizon IndyCar Series. Truthfully, to exhibit such things in an organized chaos produces an adrenalin like that of describing the cars as they speed past on any normal race day. We start to fill the racing void by allowing those stories to be told and, before you know it, a few seconds become minutes, a few minutes become an hour. 

Racing is and always will be a team sport. So, too, is broadcasting a race. When you have a team of great people, every outing is a new, fun adventure. That’s the sun that shines for me on the days filled with rain. 

Ultimately, the 2017 Watkins Glen race stayed dry and Alexander Rossi claimed his second career win. 

I’ve since scored two victories myself: The confidence in a great team to combat when plans go awry. And a pair of cheap rain boots to remind me of my 45th birthday.