Déjà Vu at 240 MPH: Is IndyCar Repeating the Mistakes That Nearly Killed It?
The 2025 Indianapolis 500 should have been a victory lap for the NTT INDYCAR SERIES. With grandstands packed, a new hybrid era dawning, and rising global attention, it felt—for the first time in decades—like open-wheel racing in America had turned a corner. But just as momentum built toward a renaissance, a cloud of déjà vu descended on the Brickyard.
In a stunning post-race decision, IndyCar disqualified the No. 27 and No. 28 Andretti Global entries—cars that had finished 2nd and 6th—for modifying covers on the new Energy Management System. The stated reason? Unapproved aerodynamic adjustments. The punishment? Relegation to the back of the field, six-figure fines, and suspended team personnel.
On the surface, it’s a clear-cut case of technical noncompliance. But scratch a bit deeper, and it reveals troubling echoes of a darker era—the 1995 Indy 500 and the bitter feud that tore the sport in two.
The year before, after dominating with a rules-exploiting engine, Penske failed to qualify for the race in 1995 due to a late rule change making the pushrod powerhouse illegal. What followed was catastrophic: a civil war between CART and the newly formed Indy Racing League, driven by power struggles and personal vendettas. The result? Two decades of decline, fractured fan bases, and a sport that was rivaling Formula One in popularity, never fully recovered its place in American, much less the global, consciousness.
And now? Roger Penske doesn’t just own a team. He owns everything—the Indianapolis Motor Speedway, the IndyCar Series, and its governance structure. So when his own team was found to have violated the rules just a week earlier in qualifying, Josef Newgarden and Will Power were moved to the back of the grid, after it was found that the stock attenuators, as safety device common on all cars, had been modified, it raised the question of how to deal with the penalties, if any, for the team. And also the debate began for having one person control it all. In response Penske fired long term team management. The end?
No. Adding fuel to the debate, Andretti Global—a legacy name, and perhaps Penske’s most prominent rival—was publicly humiliated over a relatively minor aerodynamic mod. Crucially, it involved no safety element, and its real performance impact remains unquantified. Two top ten finishers were disqualified, the team fined, and has to serve a one race suspension.
It’s not hard to connect the dots. Rumors persist that it was Andretti's camp who first uncovered Penske’s attenuator modifications. If true, is this IndyCar’s way of keeping the balance—or a quiet act of retaliation by Penske cloaked in technical jargon?
The problem is not the rules. It’s the perception of selective enforcement. In motorsport, fairness is as important as horsepower. Fans accept that teams push boundaries. What they won’t tolerate is the belief that some teams play by different rules—especially when the governing body and the racetrack are owned by one of them.
IndyCar cannot afford to repeat the sins of the past. This isn’t the 1990s. Fans are smarter, louder, and more interconnected than ever. They see the conflict of interest. They question the process. And they won’t be gaslit into blind loyalty. If IndyCar allows this moment to fester into another schism, it will not survive another thirty-year detour.
This is a call for awareness and action.
IndyCar needs independent oversight. Technical penalties should be adjudicated by a neutral body, with full transparency. Team owners should not also be race stewards. IndyCar must prioritize the perception and reality of fairness—especially as it courts new fans and global legitimacy. And above all, it cannot let internal conflict by two of the sport's biggest names in history deteriorate into a personal feud that will rip the sport apart once again.
The hybrid era was supposed to signal IndyCar’s rebirth. Let’s not allow it to become its epitaph.