Formula 1 is waving goodbye to the Indianapolis Motor Speedway. Or it would be, if it was still there to do so. We’ve already had our last trip there without even knowing about it. It’s like dumping someone by text message.

We tried our best, but in the end it just wouldn’t work out.

Formula 1’s relationship with Indianapolis is about as rocky as it gets — and that really is saying something in F1. In a way, it is amazing to think that, had Indianapolis been a venue next year, it would have been its tenth Formula 1 race. When people look back on the period, some might wonder if it was just a silly experiment that was doomed from the start.

On paper, it was a fantastic idea. One of the world’s most prestigious racing circuits (indeed, the self-styled “Racing Capital of the World”) plays host to the world’s greatest motor racing series.

Unfortunately, there was an elephant in the room. In fact, there wasn’t just one elephant in the room. There were several.

First of all, despite all of its chest-beating, and the reverential treatment which American motor racing fans give it, Indianapolis Motor Speedway is not a great circuit. I was in the room with my father when I heard the news about Indy being dropped. The radio reporter was waxing lyrical about how special the circuit is. My dad instantly spluttered, “No it’s not! It’s an oval!”

So a plan had to be hatched in order to stop Formula 1’s broadly European fan base from being sent into a coma by the prospect of F1 races happening on the oval. They also had to accommodate the fact that F1 drivers are used to racing through corners and, moreover, corners that go both left and right. So an actual circuit that had to be designed by means other than drawing around a protractor was built on the inside of the oval.

The circuit has broadly met with disapproval from those who dislike its ’stop-start’ nature and “Mickey Mouse” corners. In sum, it was a botch job. You could never escape the fact that it was really an almost unwanted appendage to the oval.

This all stems from the fact that American motor racing culture is so different to European motor racing culture. So while Indianapolis is a Mecca for American petrolheads, Europeans are much more likely to worship the Nürburgring Nordschleife.

I have written about this in the past. In a nutshell, while we Europeans don’t “get” oval racing, Nascar and the like, Americans don’t “get” Formula 1.

It is quite appropriate that I should write about this in the week that David Beckham has moved LA Galaxy. At the moment, commentators are predicting that Americans will be attracted by the glamour, but they probably won’t understand why he is a good footballer. It is said that Americans will be expecting Beckham to score five or six goals a match, without even realising that he isn’t a forward.

Exactly the same is true of F1. I sense that Americans have a sneaking suspicion that Formula 1 is great. But they just don’t understand why it’s great. They expect lots of overtaking! They expect big crashes! But Formula 1 does not supply this enough, instead emphasising aspects like great driving, technical excellence and, er, turning right.

I remember reading an amusing comparison a few years ago. I think it was made by David Richards (correct me if I’m wrong). He said that Nascar is like a cheeseburger, while Formula 1 is like caviare. That sounds like a snobby thing to say, but it has a ring of truth to it.

In this sense, selling F1 to Americans is a little bit like flogging a dead horse.

The next problem was television. In one sense, the US Grand Prix was a dream for Formula 1, because it took place during prime time for Europe. It was a double-edged sword though (in the UK at least) as it meant that ITV had better things to do in prime time than watching cars going round and round on an oval a Mickey Mouse track. So the programme was shortened, with little post-race analysis.

Moreover, viewers had to endure for what felt like half the race a ticker that helpfully informed us that “Coronation Street follows the race”. This was despite the fact that the race was not eating into Coronation Street’s scheduled slot, which was exactly the same slot that it occupies every other Sunday.

Don’t forget that the race was coming from America, which meant that for a couple of years viewers had to endure pictures broadcast in the blurrier, fuzzier NTSC standard rather than the PAL standard which Europeans are used to. Not very good, particularly when we are trying to watch fast-moving cars. A bit more blur is the last thing we need.

The situation was so bad that Bernie Ecclestone, for the only time ever, allowed terrestrial broadcasters to transmit the superior F1 Digital + pictures (shot using FOM’s own equipment) in 2002. Following the closure of F1 Digital + at the end of that season, FOM has thankfully remained as the “host broadcaster” of the US Grand Prix in every subsequent year.

As the icing on the cake, it looked quite bad on the television because there were so many empty seats despite the fact that the US Grand Prix is one of the most highly attended of the year. But whenever the camera had a surplus grandstand situated on a part of the oval that is not used by F1 in the background of the shot, it looked pretty bad.

Then there is a matter of what actually happened on the race track. It is highly unfortunate that some of Formula 1’s very darkest moments have happened at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway. Canspice puts it succinctly: Formula 1 has consistently shat on Indianapolis.

First of all, there was the manufactured dead heat controversy of 2002. Michael Schumacher slowed down before the finishing line in what was perceived to be a return of the favour that Rubens Barrichello gave him at the Austrian Grand Prix of earlier that year.

What Schumacher forgot while he was cocooned in his cockpit and helmet was that two wrongs do not make a right. And while Barrichello was stripped of his deserved victory in Austria, the American fans were denied the right to see the rightful victor crossing the finish line first. In short, the whole race was pointless.

Amid a cacophony of boos and jeers, Michael Schumacher made up a lame excuse. He was bored of all that winning malarkey and had taken every record in the book. In search for a new challenge, he wanted to manufacture the closest finish to a race ever.

Nice try, Schumi. I know the stereotype is that Americans are not quite as intelligent as some on this side of the pond. But they are not, in fact, stupid. American race fans were taken for mugs that day.

But that was nothing compared to what was to come in 2005. Due in part to the unusual banked Turn 13 (unlucky for everyone in F1 — especially Ralf Schumacher), Michelin tyres were failing. And Turn 13 is one place were you do not want to be driving an unsafe racing car. It was yet another example of why the circuit was just not suitable for Formula 1.

But it was too late to do anything about the layout of the circuit now. At least, it was if your name is Jean Todt or Max Mosley — whose stance on making last-minute alterations to a circuit had completely changed since Barcelona 1994.

There was plenty of buck-passing, finger pointing and blame gaming. Everyone had their opinion as to who was at fault (you can see what I thought at the time by browsing through the archives of this blog). The problem was that all of the extended arms pointing fingers tangled up to make a massive web that the whole of F1 got stuck in.

As such, only six cars took to the grid and American fans were deprived of a proper race. It was hilarious in a sense — partly because it was a farce, and partly because it showed that even with only six cars on the entire track, Michael Schumacher still managed to crash into his team mate. But beyond that, it was more offensive than doing a poo on the dinner table.

Since then, F1 has been on its best behaviour — particularly in America. Almost. Because, despite all of the crap that Formula 1 has flung at Indianapolis, IMS boss Tony George seemed fairly keen to keep the race.

More keen than Bernie Ecclestone was at least. Over the past couple of years, Ecclestone has been lobbing several insults at America, along the lines that Formula 1 doesn’t need America (probably true, as it survived without for most of the 1990s, and never had the full attention of America before and after then either) and that F1 gets more viewers in Malta than in America (demonstrably false).

It is as though, having explosively crapped on the dinner table, Bernie Ecclestone wanted to do a little wee on the carpet just to top it off. Yet, Tony George wanted F1 to keep on visiting Indianapolis. Is he a masochist?

Not really. Because, despite all of the above (and there is a lot of it, as you can see!), Formula 1 had the potential to work at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway — particularly in recent years.

In fairness to the track, it is not actually all that bad. It had grown on me, particularly this year. This year’s race had some interesting overtaking battles on the infield, and this was improved by the tight “left–right–left” switchbacks. These corners do not look attractive and are apparently not fun to drive.

But they ensured that overtaking manoeuvres were prolonged. It was no longer a matter of sticking your car on the inside and breaking later — because your opponent has the inside line to the next corner.

Even though Americans just don’t “get” F1, it is still massively important to them. There were even hints last year that the state could subsidise the Grand Prix!

Also, the businesses of Indianapolis also love the Grand Prix. In fact, it is often their biggest weekend of the year. Amazing when you consider that it is the home of the Indianapolis 500, but there you go. Seemingly, F1 fans are big spenders. But that’s what happens when you’re used to caviare.

While Britain has been jizzing over yet another safe drive to second from Lewis Hamilton in Europe’s most prestigious race, it will have escaped many people’s attention that a Brit has gone one step further and won America’s most prestigious race — the Indianapolis 500.

Scot Dario Franchitti is experienced enough in American open-wheel racing having spent a number of years in Champ Cars and IndyCars. Yesterday he caught the jewel in the crown, and took the most sought-after victory on the other side of the pond.

But is it meaningful? He certainly has his place in the motor racing history books, in between the 2006 and 2008 winners of the Indy 500. But American open-wheel racing has been in disarray since the IRL–Cart split.

And these days it is unthinkable that an IndyCar driver would be offered a seat in Formula 1. A few years ago it was fairly common, but drivers like Jacques Villeneuve, Juan Pablo Montoya, Cristiano da Matta and Antonio Pizzonia, proved to be ultimately underwhelming or sometimes even downright dangerous.

But does Dario Franchitti care? I’m sure he grew up dreaming of being a Formula 1 driver, but he can’t feel too unfortunate to be a top-running IndyCar driver. While it is tempting for us Europeans to think of Formula 1 as the global pinnacle of motor racing, Americans famously do not find F1 appealing.

Despite the attempts in recent years to unite F1 with Indianapolis, the self-styled “motor racing capital of the world”, US fans have snubbed Formula 1. Likewise, IndyCar and Cart are marginal sports here.

Take, for instance, the fact that Dan Wheldon — a Brit — was 2005 IndyCar champion. He must be one of the very few British sporting successes of recent years, yet how many people here have heard of him? Very few.

It might seem strange. After all, IRL and F1 are both kinds of motor racing, and they use similar kinds of cars. But in reality they are two different sports for two different audiences.

F1 Fanatic wrote a post in the run up to this weekend asking readers which they preferred between the Monaco Grand Prix and the Indianapolis 500. It’s got me thinking about American open-wheel racing, and why I don’t watch them.

The obvious reason is that I don’t have Sky, and Channel Five’s highlights packages are so poorly edited as to be rendered unwatchable. On Channel Five, it is not unusual to see several minutes of mundane, processional race footage which then cuts to several dozen laps later, with a change of leader and no explanation as to why there is a change of leader. Extremely frustrating to watch.

I suspect, though, that even if I was able to watch decent coverage of US open-wheel racing, I would still give it a miss. It is easy to revert to snobbery. I remember (I think) David Richards comparing F1 with American motor racing, saying it was like comparing caviar to a cheeseburger.

It is true that Americans like to be entertained by on-track fireworks rather than skill. I often get the impression that the bottom line for Americans is speed. For instance, grid orders are presented as a table of average lap speeds rather than lap times as they are in F1.

This might sound funny, but speed is not everything in motor racing. Not outright speed, at least. Americans scoff at the average speed of a Formula 1 lap, but this has something to do with the fact that Formula 1 circuits actually have corners and F1 drivers have to negotiate both left and right turns, a feat which is a chore to most racers in America.

Indianapolis Motor Speedway is an oval. The Circuit de Monaco looks like this:

While Americans may laugh at the relatively slow average speed of a Formula 1 car, there can be no doubt that F1 cars are technically superior. The ability to accelerate quickly, brake quickly and — most of all — corner quickly is what gives F1 cars the technical edge.

Most American races don’t have corners, so none of this applies to American race cars as much. So the most amazing aspects of F1 cars go straight over the heads of American onlookers, who have grown up in a completely different motor racing culture.

But I have to hold my hands up and say that I feel as though I might be missing something. There may be subtleties and nuances about oval racing that I simply do not understand because I have not sat down and watched enough oval races. But that is because it just looks boring.

Fans of American racing also bemoan the lack of overtaking in Formula 1. This is especially true of the Monaco Grand Prix, where it is near enough impossible to overtake.

While this is true to an extent, overtaking is special precisely because it is difficult to do. In America, meanwhile, overtaking manoeuvres are ten a penny. That just devalues them. There is no skill involved in overtaking. It just happens.

I like this comment over at F1 Fanatic by Robert McKay:

The one time I watched the Indy 500, two drivers slipstreamed each other with ease every single straight. Back and forth they went. Oval driving might require a different skill set to road racing, but passing was almost impossible NOT to acheive…

Sure there’s lots of overtaking, but very little of it actually EARNED like in road racing.

Having said all of that, I think IRL and Cart have two major plus points against F1.

Firstly, the cars get stunningly close to each other in IRL. It has to be said, those drivers have balls. When I see cars going two abreast on a banked oval, I want to shield my eyes. It must involve an incredible amount of trust in your competitors, because if the cars accidentally interlock, they’ll be hitting a concrete wall at high speed.

The second is that IndyCar racing in general seems to be genuinely open. Despite the fact that the circuits all seem to be an identical shape, different drivers and different cars win different races and different championships. None of this seven times champion or back-to-back champion pish.

In terms of spectacle, I think both the Indy 500 and the Monaco Grand Prix are dire. Quite funny that the two most prestigious and famous motor races are also two of the most boring.