Badass

RACER's tribute to the late Justin Wilson is a key part of The Insider Issue of RACER magazine, on sale now. Here is an excerpt. -Ed.

• Wilson Children’s Fund Auction

The nickname was perfect in its semi-irony. Justin Wilson was an extravagantly gifted racer, steeped in humanity.

You have to wonder, in retrospect, how Justin Wilson, a man renowned for his lack of ego and his absolute humility, once managed to sell shares in himself to fund his dream of Formula 1. It must have gone against all his instincts to “boast” and tell people he was worthy of their investment.

The irony, of course, is that in every sense, Justin was worth every cent. His investors are among those mourning his loss, but they can feel proud of their hero in perpetuity. There wasn’t a finer man in the IndyCar paddock; in terms of driving ability, he was in the very top echelon.

Sadly the stat books don’t show that: Wilson was the modern-era IndyCar great who never had a consistently strong outlet for that talent. Similarly blessed contemporaries (and they are very few) signed for teams where joining forces proved mutually beneficial. For some that process was brief; for others it took several years. For Justin, the wait was interminable. Consequently, he spent much of his topline career trying to make wine from water.

But here’s yet more irony, this time of the rueful, what-might-have-been variety: at Andretti Autosport, Justin was finally an integral part of a team capable of turning his regular miracles into hard results.

There was no braggadocio about Wilson, absolutely none whatsoever. He’d describe a great result as “satisfying,” emphasize the team’s superb pit stops or inspired strategy, and talk about building momentum for the next race. It was always left to the media to convey Wilson’s considerable contribution in order that it wasn’t buried by his own modesty.

Some have speculated that such blatant humility may have counted against him in terms of getting himself noticed by the right people in the right places, and they may be right. But it meant that Justin was endearingly different from many of his contemporaries. A friendly, chatty stranger sitting next to him on a long-haul flight could step off the plane at the other end still completely unaware that the lanky dude taking up way too much legroom was a man who made his living racing cars at 220mph. And even if he had 70 Indy car wins to his name, rather than seven, you can be sure he’d have remained the same. Justin was so normal, he was exceptional.

Get the full version of this article and much more in The Insider Issue of RACER, on sale now. Take a video tour of the new issue: