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TSN Soccer Analyst

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I have written the opening of this column too many times to remember. You see I didn't want this to be about me but no matter how hard I tried I couldn't help it so this has become the final draft. To be honest it almost went in my computer's trash bin so please bear with me as I try and get this out.

It was just Saturday that a TSN cameraman and I had a conversation about motor racing. The sport remains popular but not as popular as it once was so meetings between people who share a passion for it aren't as frequent as they once were.

The chat followed a similar template that I have had multiple times. It usually starts with the disappointment at the state of Formula One in 2015 before being shifted – usually by me – to IndyCar and all of the great characteristics it has to offer race fans.

My final line to my colleague on Saturday has haunted me over the last couple of days.

After explaining how fan friendly, inexpensive and competitive the series is I added this:

"I also love it because there is an element of danger to it."

Just over 24 hours later I watched the penultimate race of the season from my couch. Work demands meant I couldn't be there but the majority of my family were.

It was no ordinary race. More crashes and cautions than normal and with each one came no nerves. Modern day racing, even on oval racing at incredibly high speeds, has brought comforts to fans that past generations never had. No racing fan watches a race anymore hoping to just get through it without any serious injury and I am no different.

Yet the moment the safety crew arrived at Justin Wilson's car shortly before 6pm on Sunday afternoon it felt different. I felt different, catapulted emotionally back to October 2011 when another family friend, Dan Wheldon, was taken so prematurely.

It's a feeling few sports fans know and that's how it should be. The wonderful world of sports with its unscripted drama provides us all with much-needed distractions from the difficulties that the real world can often throw our way.

Sports allow us to express a cluster of emotions and many are not always positive but beautifully rare is the one of ultimate devastation.

Fans can watch many of their favourite sports for decades and never experience loss of life but for motor racing fans it's always been very different. We never allow it to overwhelm us but in the back of our minds it never truly goes away.

Like all sports should be sampled we still observe it relaxed in a state of mind that brings great pleasure. Yet it is in this state that we remain vulnerable to a moment, a second that can change immediately to a feeling of incredible anxiety and fear.

Many times we have watched and hoped for the best when we see an accident and so often almost instant relief swallows us all when we see drivers climb from their cars but then there are times when that doesn't happen and the minutes and hours that follow put us in a daze of uneasiness desperately waiting, hoping, searching for information.

Thousands of IndyCar fans went through this on Sunday evening and into Monday. It's a sport that has lost a lot of fans in the last couple of decades but those who have stayed have been rewarded and felt a connection with its competitors.

IndyCar drivers would have our respect if they drove on many of the smooth and unchallenging circuits that dominate the Formula One world calendar these days just because of how approachable and down to earth they all are.

Spend any time in an IndyCar paddock, always open to the public, and you can't help to get to know them and their loved ones. If fans want autographs, pictures or even a quick chat they got them all. Then the drivers would put on their helmets and go drive over 300km/h around a banked oval like Indianapolis. For fans of all ages they were gladiatorial giants doing things that other heroic figures would never dream of doing.

It was only Saturday when NASCAR's own Dale Earnhardt Jr. commented on an IndyCar crash he had seen and tweeted a Tracy Morgan GIF repeatedly saying 'no' to his question 'would I ever like to drive an IndyCar?'

Thankfully there are many other outstanding drivers who keep saying yes. These people have collectively created a culture that typifies all that is great about sport. Not only are many outstanding at what they do they are also sporting in their actions whether at the true peak of their battles on the track or in the way they conduct themselves in life.

For that reason, and so many others, Justin Wilson was the perfect IndyCar driver. He was an absolute gentleman out of the car, always willing to give anyone the time of day, while inside the car he elevated the talent pool and was a legitimate race contender every time he was on the grid. I remember fondly being there to see him win his first Champ Car race in Toronto and it was equally a pleasure to see him win in person in Detroit and Watkins Glen. Earlier this month, I saw him at Mid-Ohio and was thrilled to see him battling close to the front again. I did not know him that well, like other members of my family, but we had chats at the racetrack on and off for the best part of 17 years.

There is a collection of hats that sit inside the Wilson home in Colorado. One red one is personally signed on the front.

'To Justin, I miss you baby! Lots of Love Dan Wheldon,' it reads.

Dan and Justin – like me – were Englishmen born in 1978 who came to North America for a better life.

Their talents in and out of the car touched thousands of us yet now both are gone, together again. I am having a very difficult time with that.

Susie, and her sons Sebastian and Oliver Wheldon, remain in my thoughts daily.

Julia, and her daughters Jane and Jessica Wilson, will now do the same.

Godspeed, Justin Wilson.

You are a true champion.