It’s been nearly 10 years since the 2015 Formula 1 United States Grand Prix. But if I close my eyes, I can still see it.
It was Saturday — qualifying day — and my 20th birthday. I was a college student in the garage at Circuit of The Americas, with a media credential and a few professors angry I’d skipped their classes to work in the field I was studying to join. I wore rain boots up to my knees and clutched an umbrella so close to my head that I could barely see in front of me. When I did look up, I saw a smattering of fans in the stands, all peering through ponchos. The F1 cars splashed by so violently that it felt more like I was watching a water-park ride than a racetrack.
Spectators waded through mud, rain, and flooding for a dreary weekend of racing, followed by an even drearier set of headlines:
"The end of F1 in Austin? U.S. Grand Prix might not be back next year"
"Why the future of Formula One in Austin looks a little murky"
"Questions about future of Formula One's U.S. Grand Prix as Texas cuts funds"
"U.S. Grand Prix 'subject to agreement' on 2016 Formula 1 calendar"
"Bernie Ecclestone casts more doubt on 2016 USGP"
That rainy day, and those headlines, feel like a lifetime ago. Yet it’s merely a blip in America’s long and rocky history with F1 riddled with safety concerns, crumbling track surfaces, entire races falling to pieces right in front of spectators’ eyes, and more. These catastrophic events happened at tracks all over the country, and they led F1 to leave the US market again, and again, and again. That rainy day in 2015 was a pivotal moment for F1 in America, and I thought it would end like all the rest: with F1 leaving us behind to try again later.
But somehow, F1 in America didn’t just survive that 2015 flood — it crawled from obscurity into the limelight, all with Circuit of The Americas at the center of it. Heading into this 2024 race weekend, F1 at COTA isn’t the same event I worried we’d lose all those years ago.
F1 at Circuit of The Americas: The Early Years
Circuit of The Americas sits just outside of Austin, Texas. Famous F1 track designer Hermann Tilke created the track, and it opened to the public in October 2012, when F1 champion Mario Andretti ripped the first few laps. The inaugural F1 race happened a month later and broke a five-year absence from the American market, all spurred by the series’ infamous tire disaster at Indianapolis Motor Speedway.
When COTA opened in 2012, it was America’s big, shiny, purpose-built F1 track, with new facilities, a giant watchtower looking over the course, and vast star-spangled runoff areas to meet modern F1 safety standards. It’s a 20-turn, 3.41-mile circuit with a mix of high-speed straightaways, harsh braking zones, and momentum-based turns like the esses and carousel, and it's my personal favorite track to drive.
For the most part, COTA is still America’s premiere F1 facility. The series’ new US tracks in Miami and Las Vegas are street circuits, and while they are glamorous, they don’t have that same permanent footprint. (The biggest mistake the builders made at COTA was not planting trees, because it’s been 12 years and there’s still not a square inch of natural shade.)
But there were hesitations about COTA from the start. When the circuit opened, the local Austin Chronicle wrote about resident hesitation, funding and subsidization concerns, and F1’s rocky history in America—all things that would soon plague the race and venue.
Pestilence, Destruction, and (Avoidance of) Death
The first US Grand Prix at COTA in 2012 had a three-day attendance of 265,000 and a race-day attendance of 117,429, but the numbers fell from there.
The 2013 race had 250,000 weekend spectators, 2014 had 237,000, and the rainy 2015 race had 224,000. My mom went to the track and co-headlining Elton John concert in 2015, and she called the race “dismal and muddy.” When she got surprise tickets to the ultra-expensive indoor Paddock Club with me, she said that she felt like “Cinderella in her dirty cleaning clothes.”
The COTA attendance numbers didn’t get drastically worse from year to year, but they did get worse, adding up to a weekend drop of about 41,000 in four years. Austin residents also tend to get invested in their local events — University of Texas football games, the Austin City Limits music festival, and the like. But my Italian professor made me ask permission (in Italian) to skip class for a ride-along with F1 legend Sebastian Vettel, and my audio-journalism professor acted like me working the race was an inconvenience. This lack of enthusiasm came because they — and others — didn’t consider F1 to be a true Austin event yet. True Austin events are always worth attending.
The opportunity for it to become a true Austin event nearly escaped, quite prematurely. Just after the 2015 race, storms bashed COTA. Rains flooded the (very tall) traffic tunnels leading into the infield, and the storm knocked over trams, flattened temporary buildings, and ripped seats out of the main grandstands. A rock wall got hit so hard it fell apart, and an awning got ripped off of a nearby gas station.
While the storm raged, so did discussions about whether the state would or should keep funding the race. When F1 released its 2016 calendar, the US Grand Prix had an asterisk by its listing: *subject to agreement with the promoter and the National Sporting Authorities. The U.S. Grand Prix was, once again, in doubt.
The USGP needed a boost, so in 2016, the event organizers brought in the big act: Taylor Swift. It was advertised as her first and only concert of the year, and it brought in an estimated 80,000 attendees.
All of this made sense in 2016, when F1 in the U.S. needed an attendance boost and beacon of hope. But in 2024, it’s unthinkable. It’s hard to imagine Swift, whose extensive Eras Tour averaged 72,000 attendees per show according to reports in 2023, being an add-on to a sporting event instead of her own show, and it’s hard to imagine that F1 would even need her help in America.
I remember sitting in the media center in 2016, looking at live traffic maps to see when to leave the track. (This is necessary at COTA, since a couple of two-lane roads lead into a venue with a six-figure capacity.) The map leading into COTA after the on-track activities ceased was solid red, because the concert-goers opted for music only. Forget the race cars.
Things were bad. When the COVID-19 pandemic hit and canceled the 2020 USGP, it could’ve been worse.
But then, the “Drive to Survive” effect happened.
Staying Unique in a Saturated U.S. Market
Netflix’s F1 docuseries, “Drive to Survive,” exploded in popularity as Americans sat at home during pandemic lockdowns. So did F1.
The return to COTA for the 2021 US Grand Prix saw a weekend attendance of 400,000, setting a new record for F1 while the series scrambled to capitalize on its American boom. The Miami Grand Prix joined the calendar for 2022, and the Las Vegas Grand Prix — a race down Vegas’ famous Strip, with casinos on either side of the track — debuted in 2023. America became an F1 hotbed, hosting three of the series’ 24 global races this year.
Now, after deep lows and record highs, COTA faces a new challenge: defining itself in an era where it’s the US Grand Prix in name only, since there are now three US Grands Prix. When F1 returned to the US after its pandemic cancellation and “Drive to Survive” boom, COTA was the main option for new American F1 fans. It was like the one diner in a small town: It didn’t have to stand out, because everyone had to go there anyway.
But now, that town has a Cheesecake Factory and a Chili’s. There’s competition, with freshly polished dining tables and multi-page menus with coil bindings. The local diner is still a staple, but there are tempting distractions.
The way forward for the US Grand Prix at COTA, I think, is to lean into Texas culture. Miami is the club and beach hotspot, Vegas is the glitzy night race, and Austin should be the Wild West race. The appeal of F1 races around America shouldn’t just be their geographic proximity to spectators, but also what kind of culture they offer. In Austin, that culture is modern cowboys and live music.
It might feel like an elaborate cosplay for locals, but all of this is cosplay in some form. The Miami race is a giant parking lot, and Vegas is a city of overpriced knockoffs, yet both feel glamorous because that’s what they’re advertised to be. These events are what we—and the race promoters—make of them.
I’ve experienced every era of F1 in Austin, from the torrential floods of 2015 to the bright, sunny days post-”Drive to Survive.” Each of them feels like a lifetime ago, and hopefully, F1 in the US has many lifetimes to go.
