A lap-25 crash involving Kevin Cogan and Roberto Guerrero sent parts flying everywhere. Foyt slowed, deftly dodging debris. But a wheel torn from one of the wrecked cars seemed intent on hitting Foyt’s black Lola. He made a couple of jinks, and at the last second cut to his right so the wheel wouldn’t hit his car — and maybe him, too — right in the nose. Instead it battered his left-front suspension.
He drove back to the pits slowly, his visor open and his hands waving. Up in the speedway’s huge grandstands, a standing ovation began to sing A.J. Foyt home. When he reached pit road, crewmen from other teams stepped out to salute him.
He had talked — prematurely — of this 500 being his last. But this spontaneous outpouring of emotion aimed at him wasn’t a goodbye. It was an acknowledgement of his gritty comeback and an appreciation of the magic he had shown on Pole Day.
Because if you saw what A.J. Foyt did on May 11, 1991 — whether you watched from pit road, a VIP suite or the comfort of your own living room — you won’t ever forget it.
“For four laps,” said ABC-TV’s eloquent Sam Posey, “he made time stand still.”