The car will take the turn, so you just got to let it.
On the Sunday of the 110th Indianapolis 500, Indiana football coach Curt Cignetti took his place behind the wheel of the ceremonial pace car — a role that quietly mirrored his larger journey. Having led the Hoosiers to a perfect 16-0 season and the program's first-ever national championship, Cignetti arrived at Indianapolis Motor Speedway not merely as a celebrity guest, but as a man who had earned his moment at the front of the field. In sport and in life, those who set the pace for others have usually already proven they can endure the distance.
- A football coach who just completed the most successful season in his program's history found himself preparing to drive 177 mph around one of the world's most iconic ovals.
- Cignetti took the ceremonial duty seriously — studying the car's behavior through the turns, learning to trust the machine rather than fight it, and treating the pace car role with the same discipline he brought to coaching.
- His presence placed him in rare company, joining a lineage of honorary drivers that includes Dale Earnhardt Jr., Danica Patrick, and Michael Strahan — names synonymous with American sporting excellence.
- The race he helped launch became historic in its own right, ending in the closest finish in Indy 500 history as Felix Rosenqvist edged David Malukas by just 0.023 seconds.
- From a perfect football season to the front row of motorsport's grandest stage, Cignetti's weekend captured something about momentum — and what it looks like when preparation meets an extraordinary moment.
Curt Cignetti arrived at Indianapolis Motor Speedway on Sunday with a grin and a well-timed joke. When asked what people might not know about his undefeated Indiana team, the coach laughed and said he had to coach the hell out of them just to earn the pace car seat. Underneath the humor was something real: Cignetti had spent the entire 2025 season pushing the Hoosiers toward something the program had never achieved, and a 16-0 record and a national championship later, he was being asked to lead the field at the 110th Indianapolis 500.
The honor was not taken lightly. Cignetti spent days preparing — learning the feel of the Chevrolet Corvette ZR1X through the turns, understanding when to trust the car rather than instinctively brake. In practice runs he had already reached 177 mph. The race itself would call for 175 mph at the open, with two passes at 190. His advice to himself echoed his coaching philosophy: let the car do what it's built to do, and don't lose the race before it begins.
There was a quiet symmetry to his presence at the Speedway. His team had just done the unprecedented in Bloomington, and now their coach was setting the tempo for one of motorsport's most storied afternoons. When asked about the secret to Indiana's success, Cignetti kept it simple — consistency, execution, and eleven men doing their jobs at a high standard, every single play.
The race delivered its own kind of history. Rain and caution flags tested the field throughout, but the final lap produced the closest finish the Indy 500 has ever seen. Swedish driver Felix Rosenqvist overtook American David Malukas in the closing stretch, crossing the line just 0.023 seconds ahead — a margin so small it required electronic timing to confirm. Cignetti had set the pace for every lap that built toward that extraordinary moment.
Curt Cignetti stood at Indianapolis Motor Speedway on Sunday afternoon with a grin and a confession. The Indiana football coach had just piloted the pace car for the 110th running of the Indianapolis 500—a Chevrolet Corvette ZR1X painted in red, white, and blue—and when asked what people might not know about his undefeated team, he went somewhere else entirely. "I had to coach the hell out of that team so I could be the pace car driver," he said, laughing. It was the kind of joke that lands because there's truth underneath it: Cignetti had spent the entire 2025 season driving his Hoosiers toward something Indiana football had never achieved before, and now, having reached that summit with a 16-0 record and a national championship, he was being asked to lead thirty-three of the world's fastest drivers around a two-and-a-half-mile oval.
The honor itself carries weight. Over the years, the pace car driver's seat has belonged to Dale Earnhardt Jr., Danica Patrick, Ken Griffey Jr., and Michael Strahan—names that carry their own gravity in American sports. Cignetti took the responsibility seriously, which meant preparation that extended well beyond Sunday morning. He had spent days getting to know the car, learning its feel through the turns, understanding how much the machine could handle without his interference. "My biggest thing on the turns is where I need to work because it's natural to want to slow down," he told OutKick's Dan Dakich before the race. "The car will take the turn, so you just got to let it." In practice, he had already hit 177 miles per hour. The actual race would demand a more measured approach: 175 mph for the opening laps, then 190 twice, with the final lap's pace still uncertain.
There was something fitting about Cignetti's presence at the Speedway. His team had just completed something unprecedented in Bloomington—a perfect season that culminated in a national title. The Hoosiers had done what no Indiana football team had done before, and the state had celebrated accordingly. Now their coach was being asked to set the tempo for one of motorsports' most storied events. When Dakich asked him about the secret to his team's success, Cignetti's answer was straightforward: consistency, execution, and the willingness to make plays when it mattered. "When you get 11 guys doing their job at a high standard, play in and play out," he said, "you can't lose a game before you win it."
The race itself proved dramatic. Weather moved in—rain fell at various points—and caution flags interrupted the flow multiple times. But when the final lap arrived, Swedish driver Felix Rosenqvist made his move. He overtook American David Malukas down the stretch, crossing the line just 0.023 seconds ahead. It was the closest finish in Indy 500 history, a margin so thin it required electronic timing to determine. Scott McLaughlin and Pato O'Ward rounded out the top four. Rosenqvist's first Indy 500 victory came in the most dramatic fashion possible, and Cignetti had set the pace for every lap that led to that moment.
Notable Quotes
I had to coach the hell out of that team so I could be the pace car driver.— Curt Cignetti, joking about his undefeated Hoosiers
When you get 11 guys doing their job at a high standard, play in and play out, you can't lose a game before you win it.— Curt Cignetti, on the key to his team's success
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
You joke about having to coach hard to earn the pace car gig, but was that actually a factor in how you approached the season?
Not literally, no. But there's something real in the joke—you don't get invited to drive the Indy 500 pace car unless you've done something significant. Winning a national championship, especially Indiana's first ever, that opens doors. The joke is a way of saying the work and the success are connected.
How much did you have to learn about that Corvette before Sunday?
More than I expected. It's not just about going fast—it's about being smooth, being predictable for the drivers behind you. I had to unlearn my instinct to brake in the turns. The car wants to take them. You have to trust it.
Your team went 16-0. Did any of those games feel as close as Rosenqvist's finish—0.023 seconds?
We had close ones, sure. But football doesn't measure things that precisely. You win or you don't. What mattered was that we made the plays when we had to. That's consistency.
What was it like watching a race that dramatic after your own dramatic season?
It was electric. You're leading the field, you're part of the spectacle, and then you see something unfold behind you that nobody will forget. That's the kind of moment you remember.