If you grew up in Indianapolis, chances are you have a story to tell about the Indy 500. Well, I did grow up in Indianapolis and, although I’ve never been to the race I also have a story to tell: the story of Leon “Jigger” Sirois, in my opinion the greatest 500 hero who never ran in the race.

Whether you’re a race fan or not (I’m not), Indy 500 traditions seem to be a part of your DNA if you happen to call Indianapolis home. I grew up listening to the race every year with drivers like Johnny Rutherford and AJ Foyt and Rick Mears as the standout stars. Now you’ll find Danica Patrick and Dario Franchitti leading the sports report on the evening news. But long before Danica and Dario there was a little-known unsung hero named Jigger Sirois – a man who could’ve taken the poll but, ironically, never qualified for the race.

Amongst the true Indy fans Jigger’s story is probably well-known: In 1969, Jigger managed to achieve a speed of 161.535 mph on Pole Day before his qualifying attempt was waved in by his car owner, who thought the speed wouldn’t be fast enough to qualify. Soon after that it began to rain and qualifying was washed out. If Jigger had actually completed that qualification attempt he would have won the pole; two more attempts to qualify for that year’s race were unsuccessful. In fact, Sirois came out for qualifications every year through 1975 but never managed to make it into the race. Today his story is honored every year at the American Auto Racing Writers and Broadcasters Association’s breakfast, where an annual “Jigger Award” is handed out to an individual who falls upon some hard luck during the month of May.

Every story you’ll find about Jigger never fails to mention that, despite the error that cost him an Indy run, Sirois was and has remained a class act about it. “I don’t believe in being bitter,” Sirois told Dick Mittman in a 2005 interview for indy500.com. “A lot of people have a lot worse things happen to them. I was upset, but life is too short to be bitter.”

But I didn’t know any of Jigger’s storied history until after I met him. Even so, I knew he was a hero.

Plowing through my voice mails one day at work, I came across a curious message from a gentleman calling from Virginia. As I work as a speech pathologist for a children’s hospital in Indianapolis, I’m not accustomed to getting callers from Virginia – certainly not callers who indicate an interest in supporting our department and its patients. I quickly returned to call, half expecting to hear that I was mistaken, or that he had reached the wrong department. But I soon discovered that he had indeed called me and did indeed want to help us by helping our patients.

Jigger shared his reasons for calling, and his personal interest in the work that speech pathologists do. He was thoughtful and kind-hearted, and genuinely appreciative of me, merely because of my dedication to this profession. “I’m not a wealthy man,” he said, “but I’d really like to be able to help some of the kids up there.” He mentioned that he’s in Indy every year for the race – not uncommon, as thousands of racing enthusiasts make annual treks to my hometown each year – and I commented that he must be quite a fan. “Well, I actually tried to qualify for the race a time or two.” And that was it. He continued to share his story and his admiration for speech pathologists, and never mentioned again his special place in 500 history.

And now, thanks to Jigger, I guess I’m finally a race fan too — or at least I’m a fan of Leon Jigger Sirois, the kind-hearted hero who never ran in the Indy 500.

If you don’t have Indianapolis 500 tickets yet, you’d better get them today.