Savage Words: Memorable days with Indianapolis 500 champ gone too soon

The name Gil de Ferran likely doesn’t ring a bell for racing fans in this part of the world. 

That’s understandable.

But the Paris-born Brazilian was a master behind an open wheel race car. And just like most people from around here, I’d never heard of him either when I got the job as Director of Public Relations for the Indy Racing League and Indy 500 in late 2002.

But I got to know him well, and last Friday – Dec. 29, 2023 – is a day I’ll likely never wrap my head around. de Ferran died of a heart attack at the age of 56 while driving at a private event with his son at The Concours Club in Opa-locka, Fla.

I first met Gil at a testing event at Homestead Miami Speedway in early 2003. He drove for powerhouse Penske Racing, and honestly, he was a tad intimidating. Classy, clean cut, well-spoken, Gil had a respectable swagger about him.

He won the 2003 Indianapolis 500, my first as an IndyCar employee. It had been my dream to work for IndyCar and to be in Victory Lane one day when the winner swigged a gulp of the traditional milk. It happened for Gil on Sunday, May 25 of that year. He was awesome in Victory Lane, a true champion of the storied event. 

Although I had zero to do with his win, I’ve always had a connection to him because it was my first Indianapolis Victory Lane as well. I’ll never forget those cherished moments at such hallowed grounds. I soaked it all in. I was with him for the next 10 hours as we did a mountain of interviews and appearances at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway.

But it was the following day when I really got to know Gil. The winner of the 500 goes on a media tour through New York City, and I was in charge of it. It was a two-day whirlwind with de Ferran appearing on the Late Show with David Letterman, Regis and Kelly, the Charlie Rose Show, among several others. The trip ended with Gil ringing the closing bell at the New York Stock Exchange. I got to stand next to him as he proudly rang it. 

It’s two days I’ll never forget. I was fortunate enough to do it three more times with different drivers who won the 500, but the 2003 trip was the best, the most memorable, because it was my first.

Between media appearances in New York City when we had some down time is when I really got to know this Indianapolis champion. He was so refined when we went to lunch and dinner. He was the first I ever saw drink an espresso, and he drank it with such elegance. I’ll never forget that coffee break with him.

He asked me if I had a racing background, and although that might sound like an odd question because I was indeed working for IndyCar, it actually wasn’t. Many of my co-workers came from the NBA, NFL and MLB. 

I told him I grew up with a Sprint Car background, and he was intrigued by that. His knowledge of what made a race car go was fascinating. He began to ask me about Sprint Cars and the intricacies surrounding the engine, the chassis.

I stopped him almost immediately.

“I have no idea what makes them go,” I said. “I just like them because they’re pretty and they’re fast.”

He chuckled, and we switched gears. Gil was the kind of guy that could talk about 900 horsepower engines, gearboxes and IndyCar aero kits, just as easily as he could talk about Abstract Expressionism artwork.

He was also a true racer.

I was convinced 20 years ago – and I’m still just as convinced – that he could have rolled into Brandon and not been scared of Huset’s. Gil would have easily tried to manhandle a 410 Sprint Car. He was a racer.

We obviously parted ways over the last 20 years. He went on to manage the BAR-Honda Formula One team and later managed the McLaren Formula One team. I left IndyCar and worked in the NBA and NFL, but I’ll never forget those three days with Gil following his 500 win.

I took a photo in Victory Lane of him drinking the milk in 2003. It hangs on my wall. I knew I’d always have a connection with him.

Gil, rest in peace, my friend.