When I heard that Phil Hill had died, the first thing I did was read his Wikipedia entry to find out who he was. At first, I thought he was somehow connected with Graham Hill, the 2-time F1 champion from England who died in a plane crash over 30 years ago. Hill—the former Hill—remains the only American to win the Formula 1 driver’s championship (in 1961); 3 years earlier he became the first American to win the 24 Hours of LeMans, a race that he would win a further 2 times. He was inducted into both the American and International Motorsports Hall of Fame.

It occurred to me last week, when I saw the obits for Hill, that I know very little about some of the great racers. I know Schumacher, of course, and Earnhardt, Andretti, and Rossi. But I couldn’t tell you what made Richard Petty such a great driver, and I knew nothing of Ayrton Senna until I saw his biography on a friend’s coffee table.

It’s much more difficult, I think, for even a serious road-racing or rally fan to develop a knowledge of racing tradition and history, than it is for a baseball or football fan to develop a knowledge of those sports’ histories. The legends of American baseball are inescapable: you can’t watch a game without hearing some statistic, some historical factoid, some anecdote from the color analyst that brings players like Gibson, Koufax, Musial, Hubbell and Williams to life.

Watching a racing broadcast isn’t quite the same. Racers are inseparable from their machines, and they’re separated from the fans to a much greater degree than baseball players (right down to the helmet that, literally and metaphorically, hides them from the eyes of the fans). I consider myself as much of a baseball fan as I am a racing fan, but I know far more about baseball history than I do about racing history.

It’s difficult for American race fans to overcome the relative obscurity of motorsports. Yes, you can see NASCAR and IndyCar races on ESPN and Fox, but you’re not going to see a minute of F1, MotoGP, DTM, WRC, or Rolex unless you have the Speed channel—and unless you’re willing to watch races that might start at 2am and end at 5. Being a race fan requires much more effort and commitment than being a baseball or football fan.

But this isn’t an excuse, not in general, and not specifically my excuse for being ignorant of the accomplishments of Phil Hill. And as I sit here, wishing that I could do a better job of remembering Hill, I also wish I could remember all the other great drivers that have been forgotten, that I do not know. To Wolfgang von Trips, whose crash (and death) at Monza allowed Hill to take the ’61 championships. To Paul Newman, who took his last laps at Lime Rock in June and hasn’t much time left. And to every racer who drove anonymously, earning neither fame nor money, and who fought and won and lost simply for the love of the sport—even that Spec Miata racer with no budget who bought used tires and finished back of the pack every race—I thank you.