East Bay Raceway Park, oh how we miss thee.

As racers and fans head south for the annual winter pilgrimage to go racing in Florida, a key site is notably absent this year. For the first time since 1979, the roar just adjacent to the bay has fallen silent.

Among the many Florida tracks that have been a part of wintertime racing, East Bay was among the most enduring and most beloved. Each year the gates swung open, and stayed open, for weeks and weeks. As January and February progressed different types of cars—and different groups of fans—filled the grounds. Dirt late models, sprint cars, modifieds, crates…each culture celebrated their “week” at East Bay.

Alas, it will be no more. After years of fragile co-existence with industrial neighbors, East Bay was finally absorbed into the nearby landscape late in 2024. Thus far no images of the desolate scene have been shared; all the better, as we’d much prefer the casket remain closed. Let us remember East Bay in all its glory.

There were many things that made us love East Bay. It was not a glamorous place; no, much more blue-collar. That was part of the joy, because it was like visiting a friend’s comfortable abode. From the nearby parking area to the concession stands to the large bowls of strawberries, each February felt like we were at a second home.

In reality, it was a second home. The sheer number of races held each year meant that regulars chalked up a great number of nights at the same track. Over a period of years, you begin to realize you’ve spent months of your life here. That’s okay, because there are way worse places to spend months of your life.

Maybe that’s why East Bay is so readily familiar in my mind. As a sensory experience, I don’t just see East Bay when I close my eyes; I feel it. The sunshine on my face; the soft, sandy pit area under my feet; the fragrance of the damp Florida air as evening came on; the wooden planks of the pit grandstand on my backside.

I worked a lot of race broadcasts at East Bay through the years—a total of 53, in fact. There was a happy routine to coming here, because the track was typically racy and the broadcast setup—the truck location and the lay of the land—was convenient. They started on time and were usually finished early, allowing the TV crew to hit the IHOP on the way back to the hotel. From start to finish, there were many good days at East Bay. Many good days.

The harsh reality of losing such a beloved track is that nothing will take its place. Nothing has replaced Manzanita in Phoenix. Nothing has replaced Ascot or Baylands in California. I-80 Speedway, Oklahoma City, Nazareth, Reading, Dayton, Little Springfield…every racing person over the age of 30 can lament the loss of a beloved track. And, I unhappily predict, nothing will take the place of East Bay.

Thank you to the owners and officials who kept the place going for almost 50 years. Thank you to the racers and crews who trekked there to compete. Thank you to the vendors who made the concourse pulse with energy. Thank you to the many media people who told the stories. Thank you to the fans who somehow found their way to East Bay, year after year after year.

Life will go on. Florida racing in the winter will adjust and there will be lots of noise and people will flock to the sound. Soon enough a new normal will come into being, and we’ll look forward to new traditions.

Still, it will not be the same. Easing off Hwy. 41, feeling the heart rate pick up a few beats, seeing the sign at the turnoff…that’s a feeling not easily replicated.

Long live the glorious memories of East Bay Raceway Park. May they last forever.

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