The race is flickering across the giant screen and Helio Castroneves, still at last, stares at it intently. He is quiet now, concentrated and lost in some private space. The portrait he presents here is far different from the one he presents in public.
Then, in full view, he grins and cracks wise, charms, shakes more hands than a politician, exults in life and celebrates victories by climbing the nearest fence. But this other side, so composed, is part of him too, and as he stands watching a tape of last year’s Indianapolis 500, he is mesmerized and not to be distracted.
All of his attention is on the images in front of him, and it doesn’t wander until he once again views himself taking the checkered flag and winning the race as a raw rookie. Then he turns, and there is a soft smile on his face.
Does he still get chills when he sees that?
“My, oh, my, oh, boy, yes, for sure,” he says, smiling radiantly.
“I didn’t know what it would be like to win this race. Because it was my first time, every process to me was new. Qualifying was new. [Bump] Day was new. Carburetion Day, the parade, you have 450,000 here on Sunday. Everything was new. Winning the race was new. I believe that’s why I didn’t know how it is. I understand this year how it is.
“Now, every minute, every second of my life, I’m thinking of that. Yesterday I was watching the race, again, and again it was like, `Wow.’ It was really cool. It was amazing. It was a unique way I was driving. So I learn another thing. I guess that’s the way I should be here. This year I definitely have a different mentality because of experience. Definitely, I understand much better. Hopefully we still keep a big smile on my face.”
That smile is now very much his trademark, and it has helped make Castroneves just the kind of personality open-wheel racing desperately needs to promote itself. He is 27 and talented, single and handsome, engaging and ebullient, and in the wake of his surprising victory last May, these traits pushed his visibility far beyond the racetrack.
Now he is a poster child, a burgeoning celebrity suddenly deemed fit for mass consumption. Cosmopolitan magazine made him a “Hunk of the Month” and declared he has a “gorgeous grin that revs women’s pulses.” People magazine anointed him the “Sexiest Race Car Driver” of 2001, Sports Illustrated used him in its latest swimsuit issue, and “Live With Regis and Kelly” even gave him away as a prize date.
“Personally, I don’t change much. I’m still the same guy. Loving racing. Happy for what I do,” he says of all this attention. “But I do have to agree, I have a little more attention with that [Indy win]. The fans, the public. It’s nice. I like that. It’s fantastic.”
He sounds, while saying this, very much like the kid let loose in the candy store, and again this reveals his public side. But his tones are different when he remembers another fantastic moment, the one he experienced as he led the parade of former Indy champions when the Indianapolis Motor Speedway opened on the first Sunday of this May.
“That was a very special moment for me,” he says reverentially. “I was looking in the mirrors and I saw all those guys. The nice thing was I was leading the pack. But I’ll be honest. I did have a little butterfly on the stomach going on. It was very special. It was something a lot of people try to get for many years. I was the chosen one. So I consider I’m a blessed person.”
Those words, and the way they are offered, reflect a sober side of Castroneves that rarely is seen, yet it is as much a part of him as his public antics. He is still deeply religious, referring regularly to destiny and the guy upstairs, and his parents still fly up often from their home in Brazil to be with him.
He still travels with his older sister Kati, who is his friend, confidant and agent, and after his Indy victory last year, he bought her a condo next to his in Miami.
“My middle name’s trouble,” he says. “She makes sure I’m not in it.”
Says Kati: “He thinks he knows a lot about women, but I’m a woman and I know how tough we are. I’d like to see him find somebody very nice, somebody to take care of him. He needs a family person and not these girls who just want to be around him because he’s famous.”
Most important, he still isn’t distracted from his job, and he’s approaching Sunday’s 500 with the same willfulness that delivered the fame he now enjoys. Surely he revels in his notoriety. This he openly admits. But, significantly, he can compartmentalize the fluff and concentrate on the solid, which he is doing now as he stands quietly in his Marlboro Team Penske garage.
“Just because we did well last year,” he says, “doesn’t mean we do well again this year. No. We are starting all over again. I’m sure that I’m learning again. Obviously, when you start achieving titles or speeds or records, it feels good. But I’m 27. I’m still learning. I’m still going to make mistakes, which is normal. And I’m still going to achieve more goals.
“So it feels nice. But I still have a lot to learn.”
