I recently created a “contact” page as some eagle-eyed passengers here may have already noticed. It can be seen near the top left corner of the page. Somewhat unsurprisingly I received some disparaging comments- at least, they would be to others – quite quickly afterward. Some of them sparked an old familiar thought which I have since shared with readers here; why are people so quick to accept the way something is will always remain that way. Could it be a lack of inspiration?
As it happened I stepped away from my dedicated ramble-writing machine and caught a glimpse of a photo which has hung on my wall for many years. I actually wrote a post about the individual enframed, and meant for posting it a bit later on in the future. Actually, I wrote posts about a few people I have long admired, whose photographs all hang above my simulator. I think it is a good idea to break up my intended postings with this next entry, even if it breaks up the narrative a bit by doing so. Without further ado..
Resolute – rĕz′ə-loo͞t″
- marked by firm or unwavering determination
- bold
It occurred to me recently that it may be appropriate at some stage to write a few posts about some of the people I admire. First in such a series is about a man after my own heart – Jeff Krosnoff. For those readers who might not know who he was, he spent eight long years racing in Japan before returning home to the United States to join the Cart ranks, sadly dying at the 1996 Molson Indy Toronto round. That one-sentence summary really does his story zero justice – Jeff Knosnoff was resolute. I, and more so every young driver who ever stumbles onto this blog, can learn so much from his story. I think it is criminal more people do not really know much about him. Given how motivating his story has been to me through various bumps in the road, his career projection warrants some discussion here.
Why? Krosnoff is a bit of a forgotten man in some sense. When he died, he was a rookie in Cart. Rookie in this case was a major misnomer given his racing experience elsewhere; he was a rookie in cart over the age of thirty. Even by 1996 standards, most would have referred to that as “getting on a bit” or even gone so far as calling him “old and busted.“
For Jeff Krosnoff the racing bug was caught early and possibly by pure chance; he was classmates with the daughter of Honda F1 driver Ronnie Bucknam. When they were just pups, she brought a trophy of his to “show and tell” which her racing driver father had won, and the bug was in.
His progression in racing started off somewhat typically, that is, in a Jim Russell Van Diemen, winning seven races in a school-based series. His first full season of racing happened to be the very first season ever of Mazda Pro, where he stuck around for three seasons and took a handful of wins. Noteworthy in my own opinion was his age at the time of his entry, he was already twenty five years old by the time he raced in Mazda Pro. In modern times the average age of drivers racing there is approximately nineteen years. When he moved on to Formula Atlantic, success was harder to come by after stepping up to more powerful machinery. He did not win a single race. Of course Krosnoff was fast, but his efforts were unavailing; he was armed with older equipment than his competitors. Racing is a technical sport and the equipment dictates the limit more that the driver.
Krosnoff’s career projection starts to get really, really interesting here. Particularly because he faced challenges which many drivers can relate to even today. His family was surprisingly not supportive – which echoes my own experience – but he never let this stop him. His family, while successful, had no connection to racing either so he certainly was not a “legacy.” What exactly gave this lad the goad to believe he could pull this off with such a late start?
Come 1988, with no family backing, no sponsorship funding, and despite owning some considerable success from the four seasons previous, Jeff Krosnoff found himself in a position many drivers would have found utterly desponding – he was without a drive. Unwilling to simply accept that his promising racing career came to a screeching demise, he jumped for an unusual opportunity – the 1988 Coors Racetruck Challenge.
This series was run with…basically weight-stripped road trucks paired with base-level safety modifications. Most racing drivers in my experience feel they are too good for such a move. To put this in perspective, this was a huge and unceremonious fall from grace, if you will, for someone of his skill level. How huge of a fall? Dude could literally take photos and selfies from inside the car….and did so mid-race!
So why would someone with such a hot start to racing, especially as a late entrant to the game jump on such an opportunity? He knew and understood the value of getting a Factory contract in order to fund his racing. He also realized there was a high level of manufacturer involvement in the series – Jeep, Nissan, Mitsubishi, Ford, and Dodge were all present in the series as factory efforts. Despite seeing himself purely as a formula driver he possessed the presence of mind to see the bigger picture with such a chance – the truck series was where the money was. He clearly had some maturity and excellent foresight! That foresight would prove valuable and indeed paid off in the distant future.
Thinking back on his career story now reminds me of some excellent advice I was given by the another driver in the early stages of my career.
“Always, always go where the opportunity is – and hopefully a pay cheque will be there too – not where the cars are the hardest, or, most rewarding to drive..” – someone much smarter than I am
That was tough to hear at the time despite being a late entrant myself.
Krosnoff obviously readily accepted this sentiment as reality, so he maneuvered himself into a racetruck test at Carlsbad Raceway and won himself the seat. That is, despite crashing during his test. He went on to finish second in the championship, finishing his racetruck divagation with four victories.
It is important to understand – four wins and second in the racetruck series still absolutely derailed his prospects in open wheel racing at first glance.
Though, it kept him in a race seat.
Why was that important? – you, focusing on the smaller picture
It was crucial because you literally never know what can happen. In his case, Japanese marques happened to be getting really into American racing at that time while simultaneously upping their national racing scene back home.
While other drivers were slogging away to stay in a race seat, doing so by spending their parents money or begging sponsors to fund their development, Krosnoff was getting paid. I am sure it was not stimulating for him to be racing what were essentially stripped-down road trucks. He was making a living after all and he was still in the game. A driver needs to be in the shop window to be bought, right?
I am certain many people around him viewed his switch over to the truck series as…not only unusual but pointless given the difference in driving discipline. Somehow, some-f*cking-how by driving for a Japanese marque and attending a trade show, he came into closer contact with Speed Star Wheels…
…who eventually helped put him in Group C, Formula 3000, and JGTC.
Are you f*cking kiddng me?
This guy deserves all your respect! I am unsure how this is not regarded as one of the greatest racing turnarounds of all time.
Krosnoff had been growing close with Speed Star Wheels. Off the back of running their wheels on his Nissan racetruck, he was invited by the owner, Mr. Hamada, to test their Formula 3000 race car when he attended the 1987 SEMA convention! At the time that was the premier level of formula racing in Japan, and generally speaking Formula 3000 was one step below F1, essentially GP2 of the 1980’s. Although thanks to this blogsite’s highly regarded pyramid diagrams, esteemed passenger, you already knew that.
He was reasonably close in lap time to Masahiro Hasemi, the number one driver and very experienced Japanese pro in the team, in his test later that year. He won the seat and would be in attendance for the Suzuki final round of the 1987 All-Japan Formula 3000 season. He qualified twelfth, right in the middle of the pack, but fell to last due to unfamiliarity with the clutch and lighting up the rears. He finished in twelfth, right where he qualified before popping a tire – it did not matter in the end. Krosnoff showed he had the race craft for the job and the team believed in him enough to offer him the full-time drive in 1989.
Krosnoff already overcame several obstacles at this stage in his career. We are talking about a guy who was over thirty years of age and married. At a stage in life when most people were already raising young children, he simply refused to come short of his goal. Imagine how much someone has to believe in themselves to leave their wife behind in the States and move to Japan, at that time every bit the dead-serious national racing scene but basically unknown and out of the spotlight. It is difficult not to admire a man who refused to believe in anything except his own capabilities. Krosnoff gave himself up to loneliness despite being married back home and endured in Japan, committing to carve himself out a career there well before the time of the internet – it was much different leaving home back then.
Krosnoff was making a great living in Asia. The Japanese national series was flush with cash and very serious with both sponsor and factory involvement as a result of a strong economy. This was before the days of the internet though, so he was totally out of the scope of media coverage back home. The driving standard was very high, and the tracks were dangerous, so he really cut his teeth at the time. While he was in Japan, away from the media of his home country, he was getting busy exemplifying champion traits.
He was able to do so because he was already graduated (from UCLA Psychology), he did not have to run around trying to raise money anymore, and he ensured zero distractions affected him. He was essentially fully focused on the driving, and as a result his career and value on the driver’s market was thriving as he raced in venerable Group C as well as Formula 3000. The tire brands, as they are now, were heavily involved in Japanese racing then, so it differed greatly from the International Formula 3000 series. Having a tire war – it meant constant tire testing and therefore much more seat time in cars – he became a highly proficient test and development driver on top of being a sharpened racing driver.
He also raced in the sports prototype for a Jaguar Factory team, TWR Suntec Jaguar. The daughter of the team’s main financier took a shining to him as he became a bit of a star in Japan, managing to convert this into a Le Mans outing. In 1991 he raced at Le Mans with Jaguar and Mauro Martini. Despite the car failing to finish the race, I find it spectacular that in the span of four years, Jeff Krosnoff managed to springboard a racetruck drive into racing internationally at Le Mans off the back of his National prototype drive. If his racing career ended there he would still be someone I respect greatly.
After a few more seasons of racing in Japan, he wound up in the Toyota Factory team’s Group C effort at Le Mans in 1994 with Eddie Irvine and Mauro Martini, also former Gaijins in Japan who both went on to Formula 1. In the lead, closing in on the final hour, they had a gearbox blow. Krosnoff got out of the car, got underneath it and managed to jam the car into gear. Unfortunately it was a bit too low of a gear, and had to do a slow in-lap as a result. They were absolutely about to win the race, but ended up recovering in second place. I have to believe that coming so painfully close to winning Le Mans galvanized his belief deep down that a multi-year stint over in Japan could lead to more – including a return to North America.
That was probably an unusual and unpopular belief to hold at the time. Most drivers thought Japan was racing’s dead end, a final destination more than a stepping stone. Still, if someone was a top driver with the right passport, there was always a market for him elsewhere in the world. Unfortunately Krosnoff did not own the right passport, given Andretti Junior delivered a horrible performance with McLaren F1 right then.
Off the back of a stint in…a Nissan racetruck, of all machines…Jeff Krosnoff cut his teeth in Japan across Formula 3000 from 1988 to 1995, and JGTC in 1994 and 1995. He managed to race at Le Mans throughout this period in 1991, 1994, and 1996. In my world this is extremely impressive and makes for a highly respectable racing career, but he was not done there.
After seven years in Japan, at the age of thirty-one, he finally got the call to Cart.
I wrote earlier that modern racing drivers can learn a lot from Jeff Krosnoff’s story. Krosnoff kept himself in remarkable physical fitness. This had to have been helpful to him making a comeback in American racing in his thirties, during a time we knew far less about recovery and nutrition. At the risk of sounding overly-sensitive, Krosnoff’s career inflection point here teaches another very important lesson.
Do not, under any circumstances, be a bell-end. Put more simply, “don’t be a d*ck.”
Better to elaborate on the…absolute state of people in motor racing at another time, but essentially being involved in a sport like racing can be arduous. As the driver referenced in a previous post would put it, “there are more bad days than good days in racing.” I am writing this here because it is one of many powerful factors affecting drivers, causing them to be..
..well, c*nts.
Jeff Krosnoff was not, however, and maintained a good sense of humour instead of turning into the common racing driver of today. Maintaining his demeanour paid dividends like every career decision he made to that point; his impression on old friend Mike Hull from his Formula Mazda days came into play when Chip Ganassi was looking to swap drivers. Krosnoff made a strong enough impression on him and then kept in touch with him. Years later, while acting as managing director at CG Target, Hull suggested Krosnoff who he knew had been racing in highly competitive Japanese series.
Jeff Krosnoff wrote for RACER Magazine and this final excerpt has always stood out to me.
“Contemporary motorsports is a difficult business, and as hard as I worked to reach F1 or Indy cars, nothing was happening. It was especially hard to take at various times and so, near the end of [1995], I was having to come to terms with the fact that my career might not ever reach the lofty expectations I envisioned for myself as a snot-
nosed youngster.”
Recently someone close to me said, “It’s always darkest before the dawn, isn’t it?”
During their test at Homstead Circuit, Krosnoff competed for the Ganassi seat against Alex Zanardi. He was a former Formula 1 driver and was fresh. Krosnoff, on the other hand, had just flown all night, arriving in Miami right after the finale of AJF3000. In the end the decision was an arbitrary one since the drivers were essentially equal, but since Krosnoff appeared slightly less fit due to experiencing the draw of the time change on the body, Zanardi got the nod.
The “dawn” finally came for Krosnoff, luckily, when Toyota was about to enter Indy.
Krosnoff tested at that same track a week later, this time for the Toyota seat at Arciero wells – once again, off the back of his performances in the Nissan truck. The team boss previously oversaw their Baja factory program and was familiar with Krosnoff’s performance! Unreal! His decision to invest a season in racetrucks kept paying dividends, not only in the form of greater heights in Japan but in the form of an Indy seat as well.
He ended up getting the nod from the team because they were not ready to challenge for wins and he was a good fit for that; his testing and development kilometres would certainly have come into the equation when choosing between him and the other driver. They needed to develop the engine! Krosnoff had also already been a Toyota driver and was highly regarded by them after becoming a star in Japan, so his selection by the team was the natural one.
Toyota had a rough start to their Indy involvement. The team suffered engine failures over several rounds but still managed to land MCI as a sponsor. The car did not finish five of the first seven rounds but the engine was making progress. Krosnoff’s experience with his testing and development role on top of his racing role, stemmed from the tire war during his seven plus years in Japan, helped bring the progress of the team forward.
Unfortunately at the Toronto round of the 1996 season, Krosnoff came together with Stefan Johannson’s car and was launched into a tree at well over one hundred miles per hour. The incident killed a track worker, Gary Arvin, as well.
Jeff Krosnoff was gone before he truly reached his potential. Maybe that is a strange thing for people to read nowadays given he was over the age of thirty when he became a rookie in Indy, but he simply was not yet at his peak performance. While he did not reach his primary goal of becoming a Formula 1 driver, he put himself back on the map the long and hard way after suffering a major career setback in 1988. At the time of his death three teams in the series were vying for his wheelman services in the top open wheel series in North America.
Jeff Krosnoff never lost sight of his long term goals, but he focused on doing a perfect job where he was at, with any opportunity he cultivated off the back of his own efforts. He was a person who clearly battled for his career and deserved everything he got. He did it the arduous way by understanding without crushing the now, there is no tomorrow anyway – that is the legacy his memory imparts on me, and that is the reminder his picture on the wall has served all these years. No matter what obstacles I face, I have to relentlessly keep putting one foot in front of the other with everlasting strength of character. I have to battle towards my goals as though my success is ineluctable.
