It was a win that launched a young Indiana racer on a legendary career path and placed one name next to Ray Harroun in the history books.
That was Jeff Gordon’s win at the 1994 inaugural Brickyard 400.
While he may have crossed the Yard of Bricks first, behind him and for the previous 160 laps, every driver vainly tried to challenge Gordon.
Everyone wanted to win it.
The significance of the moment dawning on the field of 43 drivers on the morning of August 6, 1994, hasn’t been replicated often in motorsports history. It’s not easy to point to a moment and say, “I was there, I participated,” knowing that history was made. Normally, hindsight provides the narrative that turns one event into a moment that builds a foundation for generations.
The inaugural Brickyard 400 was a historic moment in NASCAR’s long lineage, introducing the long-time southern sport to the masses who sheltered in what was then heavily IndyCar country. It was a visceral sight, as the great stock car teams were lining up to battle it out over the two-and-half-mile oval, with each driver thirsting insatiable to be the man holding the PPG Trophy at the end. That driver would forever be held in regard as NASCAR’s version of Harroun, the man who won the inaugural Indy 500 in 1911.
This race was supposed to be just another stop on the schedule, regardless of it’s open-wheel lineage. However, the aura of the Speedway was impossible to prevent from seeping into the minds of everyone involved. This was lining up to be one of the greatest stock car moments in history, a race that could (and quite frankly did) propel NASCAR to new heights and more national attention, and it spurred further growth.
There was immediate prestige that tracks like Las Vegas Motor Speedway and Kansas Speedway could never provide. This was the Speedway, hallowed ground where the past echoed off the aluminum bleachers. Instead of names long associated with the May Classic, like Al Unser, Mario Andretti and Rick Mears, it was joined by famous stock car brethren: Richard Petty, Rusty Wallace and Dale Earnhardt.
Then, in the middle of all that was a young 23-year-old Gordon, who had made a name for himself on the Indiana dirt tracks and other venues across the Midwest. Not from racing modifieds or street stock divisions, but United States Auto Club’s open wheel cars, the sprint, midget and Silver Crown series. With the road to Indy long blocked off for dirt track champions in the mold of AJ Foyt, Gordon was never able to overcome the deficit that kept him out of IndyCar and the Indy 500: money.
He headed south, and the rest is history. But his name recognition would still linger well beyond his Thursday Night Thunder days were over. On that August day, he put his name in every wire service and news clipping that carried a motorsports byline.
But how did this come to be, that a stock car series broke through the lonely use of IMS, which for decades only hosted one event, the Indy 500?
In the days before the track building boom in the late ’90s, this NASCAR Cup Series race became a critical event in a hungry racing market in the Midwest. While Roger Penske’s Michigan International Speedway played host to two Cup races, there was a stock car black hole between Bristol, Tenn. and Brooklyn, Mich.
Tony George sought to address that.
When the news dropped on April 14, 1993, that a stock car race would be run at the famous track, there was an outcry. For decades, the massive facility was used once a year: on Memorial Day weekend for the Greatest Spectacle in Racing.
Now there were two races on the historic track. Traditionalists ground their teeth and snapped about how the legacy of the track was being tarnished. But many fans were clearly pleased and excited about the new event. Tickets sold rapidly.
Prior to the announcement, NASCAR ran two compatibility tests at IMS. The first one was in 1992, with top-tier drivers like defending Cup champion Dale Earnhardt, Bill Elliott, Rusty Wallace, Davey Allison and Kyle Petty.
The next year, the series offered an open test to give teams an opportunity to experience the uniquely shaped oval, with over 30 cars partaking. Seven-time champion Richard Petty ran some laps around the track to experience the Speedway himself before donating his car to the track’s museum. A race sim practice was also ran, which included an attempt at a simulated green-flag start. Before too many laps were turned, a crash near the front collected multiple cars, ending the unique session.
None of that watered down the excitement leading up to the August event. The 1994 season was ripe with storylines, including Ernie Irvan rising to championship contender status in his first full year with Robert Yates Racing, challenging the duo from the previous year who dominated the season: Wallace and Earnhardt.
The young Gordon took his first victory of his illustrious career at the Coca-Cola 600 in May. A tire war was on-going between Goodyear and Hoosier Racing Tire, whose primary team, the No. 7 Exide Ford driven by Geoff Bodine, had won a similar circuit earlier in the summer at Pocono Raceway.
Qualifying
Qualifying for the first Brickyard 400 included 86 cars (with 83 making attempts), which was 17 more than the Daytona 500 in the spring. However, NASCAR opened up the entry list to Winston West teams, which greatly increased the car count.
Earnhardt, never a driver focused purely on poles, changed his tune, working hard to be the first NASCAR driver to earn the top spot. But immediately after his run, Rick Mast, on Hoosier tires, stole the spot, taking his second career pole. Earnhardt settled for the outside of the front row, with Gordon and Bodine behind.
Four-time Indy 500 winner Foyt, who retired from open-wheel competition prior to the 1993 Memorial Day Classic, returned to stock car racing. He qualified his No. 50 car in the final spot on speed, 40th position. Another Indy 500 winner also made the field, Danny Sullivan, who was looking to make his first NASCAR start. He qualified 26th.
Before the green flag, questions remained on how to keep up with track changes. Mast said it best in an interview with ABC Sports, hinting at the challenges that lie ahead for a track known for its fickle mood swings.
“The key is trying to figure out what the racetrack is going to do,” Mast said. “None of us have ever been here. We don’t know what it’s going to do. This track changed the other day in three hours of practice more than any racetrack any of us have ever seen.”
Other concerns related to the viability of racing on the narrow groove, especially with the removal of the apron before the 1993 Indy 500.
Green Flag
When the green flew, the energy leading up to this moment unleashed in anger as 43 cars stormed into turn 1. Immediately Earnhardt set his sights on leading the first lap, hanging tough on the outside, but losing ground on the backstretch. He shut the door on Gordon leading into turn 3, then hounded Mast coming out of the final corner.
But his eagerness would basically end the six-time champion’s (he won his seventh that year) day, as he drifted high into the wall. He’d play catch up the rest of the way, pitting during the first yellow to repair damage and later recovering to finish fifth. His effort was admirable though, considering pole sitters led the first lap of all ensuing Brickyard’s until 2011.
Gordon, meanwhile, put his car out front and was the dominate front-runner early. Mast, who hoped to win from the pole, faded due to the result of a bad engine. The first wreck was by Jimmy Spencer, the two-time winner in 1994, who crashed to become the first DNF in Brickyard history.
The fight up front became an early duel between Bodine and Gordon. While the racing was close, it was remarkable to see how tight and up on each other the cars ran in the mid-1990s, with less reliance on aerodynamics. Timing the draft and having a proper-handling car in the turns would turn out to be the best way to victory. And Gordon seemed to have few challengers in that regard.
After 50 laps, Foyt tried to put his name in the record books by leading a lap under green pit stops but ran out of gas. He’d fall well behind on the leaderboard.
On lap 100, the race storylines changed drastically. Geoff Bodine, who had led 24 laps, raced his brother Brett too close for his liking. After passing him on the restart, Geoff Bodine was spun by Brett on the frontstretch, out of turn 4. The ensuing crash luckily collected only one other car, Dale Jarrett. Geoff Bodine later attributed the family scuffle on track to personal problems between he and his brother. The drama ended up ruining the day of Gordon’s biggest challenger to that point.
From there, Gordon put himself in control. It was only during the last yellow that he faced another effort to unseat him from the lead.
During the caution period for a wreck involving Jimmy Hensley and Geoff Brabham — a former Indy 500 runner — Gordon led Irvan and Wallace into the pits. With an insanely fast time for that era, just under 16 seconds, Wallace leaped over both Gordon and Irvan to take the lead. On the ensuing restart, one the most exciting laps in IMS history played out.
Gordon set up Wallace in the south shortchute, working underneath him down the backstretch. But Wallace wasn’t done, clearly wanting to retain the lead and win the race. He pulled a repass in the turn 3 and 4 complex, but down over the Yard of Bricks was just slightly ahead, even as the pair touched.
Irvan looked to make it three-wide but thought otherwise, putting his car behind his championship rival Wallace. But Gordon hung on tough, holding the outside through turns 1 and 2 again, which caused Wallace’s car to unsettle out of the groove, opening the way for Irvan to move into second.
Another contender put to bed by Gordon in his quest for the trophy.
The Duel
Twenty laps to go, and a legendary duel was setting up. Irvan had made his way from the 17th starting position, and through great pit strategy and a good car, had made it behind Gordon. He had no intention of letting him get away.
This was the time to make it happen. Only one driver could win, setting up for a classic finish.
Irvan took the top spot on lap 140, but Gordon didn’t let him gain a gap. The two hung closely together, and five laps later, Gordon retook the lead. As Jerry Baker shouted on the radio broadcast, Irvan settled behind the No. 24 right on his exhaust pipe in the groove of turn 2.
Another five laps later, and Irvan retook the lead, the third pass between the two in just 15 laps. Gordon let the No. 28 Texaco Havoline Ford feel safe up front, knowing he had the car that was fully capable of retaking the lead. The question was when.
It was in this moment, with five laps to go, the decision was made for Gordon. Drifting high in turn 1, the No. 28 oddly slipped out of the groove, and Gordon pounced, speeding by. But Irvan exited the second turn well off the pace. The radio and TV crew exclaimed wildly, “What was wrong with the Havoline Ford?”
Bits of rubber spewing from the right side was the answer. A flat tire. It was one of the most fateful moments in motorsports. Irvan, a man on the rise and in the lead of the championship was on the verge of battling it out for the inaugural Brickyard 400, and the plot was controlled by the Racing Gods.
Irvan now was out of the picture, and even though Brett Bodine was closing from second, he never caught the No. 24.
Gordon took the checkered and cemented himself in racing history.
The hometown crowd exploded with approval that the Pittsboro native, which was just about 20 miles northwest of the track, took the win. His status took an immediate jolt within the NASCAR hierarchy. While a championship did not come that year, his time was quickly approaching.
Gordon would end up becoming a dominating factor for all future Brickyard 400s, leading 528 laps and winning four more times at the Speedway.
As for Irvan, what would have been if he had pulled into victory lane? He’d been the first driver to win both the Brickyard and Daytona 500. Even more tragic was the weeks that followed, as Irvan crashed in practice at Michigan and suffered critical injuries.
Due to his strong will, Irvan returned to the Brickyard in 1996 but experienced a similar fate as the inaugural event, running through oil while leading, which allowed teammate Jarrett to overtake him for the win. Two poles in 1998 and 1999 didn’t make up for the victory misses.
Earnhardt, the eventual 1994 champion, made his way to fifth. Had he not hit the wall on lap 1, it’s possible he’d been up front all day. In 1995, he’d take the second Brickyard 400.
Geoff Bodine was never a contender at the Speedway again. In fact, he wouldn’t even make the field in 1997.
Wallace’s short time out front was a precursor to his history at IMS. Three times he’d finish second but would never taste victory in the second most prestigious NASCAR race.
All these drivers were factors in the first Brickyard, all yearning to be the winner. But after 160 laps, it was a hometown kid from a nearby town in rural Indiana who took the checkered.
Gordon was raised on the Midwest tracks, never thinking he’d make his way to Indianapolis. In 1994, he got his opportunity and he didn’t squander it. The win launched his rise into a future NASCAR Hall of Famer, and along that path, NASCAR followed, reaching great heights.
All thanks to the first stock car race at IMS, which placed Gordon alongside Harroun in the record books.
About the author
Tom is an IndyCar writer at Frontstretch, joining in March 2023. Besides writing the IndyCar Previews and the occasional Inside Indycar, he will hop on as a fill-in guest on the Open Wheel podcast The Pit Straight. His full-time job is with the Department of Veterans Affairs History Office and is a lieutenant colonel in the Army National Guard. After graduating from Purdue University with a Creative Writing degree, he was commissioned in the Army and served a 15-month deployment as a tank platoon leader with the 3d ACR in Mosul, Iraq. A native Hoosier, he calls Fort Wayne home. Follow Tom on Twitter @TomBlackburn42.
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I don’t like everyone has same vehicle set up I like the old days when no one knew what you were doing to vehicle I think it should b that way again like when bill Elliot was king