That unmistakable buzz. The scent of burnt fuel mixed with anticipation. It’s Indianapolis in late May, and the cathedral of speed, the Brickyard, is pulsing. Forget the Super Bowl shuffle; this Sunday felt like the whole playbook of American sports legends decided to crash the biggest party in racing. Imagine Fenway Park hosting the Masters, with Gretzky dropping the puck. You just knew something wild was brewing before a single engine roared to life.

Huge names drifted through the paddock, legends swapping their usual turf for the hallowed oval. It had the vibe of an all-star game where the uniforms were fire suits instead of jerseys. Fox Sports had the keys to the broadcast kingdom, and they brought their heaviest hitters—a crew that usually dissects touchdowns now prepped for turn four. The energy crackled, a unique blend of racing purists and star-struck fans wondering who’d show up next. Tom Brady, the ultimate winner, was right in the thick of it, soaking it all in. Then came the moment.

Brady, suited up and grinning, climbed into the passenger seat of the legendary “Fastest Seat in Sports” two-seater. Behind the wheel? None other than seven-time NASCAR king Jimmie Johnson. Pit reporter Jamie Little, juggling interviews with winners and legends alike, captured the whirlwind perfectly on Instagram: “Indy500 Photo dump! A day I’ll never forget. The people I worked with, the drivers, Gronk, Tom Brady, Strahan, my son’s first 500, my hubby’s team coming close to the 🏁 & finally getting to interview the winner at Indy! Very thankful.” It was a crossover event for the ages.

As they prepared to lead the field on the ceremonial pace lap, Brady’s name echoed over the massive IMS PA system. The reaction? Well, Indianapolis hasn’t booed like that since… maybe ever. A tidal wave of disapproval washed over the speedway. Colts Nation, still nursing wounds from countless Brady-led Patriots beatdowns, let their feelings fly. Tom Brady just smiled that familiar, knowing smile and waved. He’d been here before. Brady knew the score. His record against Indy?

A brutal 16-4, including playoff heartbreak. He threw 33 touchdowns against them—his highest tally outside his division. The ghosts of Manning-Brady duels, especially that pivotal 2007 AFC Championship loss, clearly still haunt the Hoosier State. Johnson later nailed the feeling, telling Fox Sports: “There is an energy and excitement around the 500 that is unlike anything I have experienced before.” Sharing that moment with another seven-time champ?

Pure magic, even with the boos. The star power didn’t stop with Tom Brady. Gronk was spotted living it up in the infamous Snake Pit. Michael Strahan, admittedly nervous, nailed his pace car duties like a seasoned pro. Derek Jeter added a dash of Yankee pinstripes to the Midwestern mix.

The drive Brady couldn’t resist

True to form, Tom Brady couldn’t resist a playful jab. Reflecting on the incredible day via Instagram, he gushed about the experience and thanked Johnson and Fox. Then came the signature Brady dagger, sharper than any pass: “PS: it was great to get in one more successful drive in front of a bunch of Colts fans.” Classic TB12.

Even Pat McAfee‘s wife, Samantha, dripping with Colts loyalty, admitted on her Instagram story: “Hearing over 400,000 people boo Tom Brady was a real highlight of the day… I’m sorry, but I have Colts blood running through my veins.” The rivalry, it seems, transcends retirement. So, the 109th Indy 500 gave us a Spanish champion in Alex Palou and a spectacle unlike any other. But the enduring image?

Tom Brady, the NFL’s ultimate victor, taking one last symbolic victory lap in enemy territory, embraced the boos like old friends, and delivered the perfect, cheeky post-game audible. It proved some sporting grudges, like a fine bourbon or the roar of an IndyCar, only intensify with time. As Roger Kahn once wrote of baseball’s timeless appeal, “It breaks your heart. It is designed to break your heart.” Doesn’t that perfectly capture the beautiful agony Colts fans felt seeing Brady smile through their boos? What sporting grudge in your life simply refuses to fade?