In order for one to grasp its full effect, it is important, I suppose, that I preface this post with a disclaimer. As with any fan of Sprint Cup racing, I have my drivers I want to see do well. I am an unabashed Tony Stewart fan, and have been since his final full season on the IndyCar circuit. With Smoke sidelined in August, I spent the last four months of the season cheering on my second-favorite driver, Kevin Harvick. Mark Martin and Denny Hamlin are also high on my list. Beyond that, I don't really dislike anybody. I don't mind Jimmie Johnson's success - I do root for my favorites to outrun him - and our sport is full of such good folks that it is hard to root against them.
There is one driver, though, I genuinely do root against, and his name is Joey Logano. With that list of favorite drivers, I suppose that shouldn't come as much of a surprise. I didn't care for his bump-and-run on Mark entering turn one at Pocono in June 2012. Had it been employed at a short track, that would have been one thing, but any turn at a high-speed track like Pocono - let alone the one at the end of the longest straightaway in NASCAR - is not the place to be bumping-and-running, at least in my opinion. I also felt like Mark Martin is about the last guy anyone should pull the move on, adding to my furor. I won't delve into the Fontana situation beyond saying that, like Pocono, that is the wrong place to be running into other drivers, especially as a payback for getting spun at Bristol.
With all that being said, one of Logano's biggest fans also happens to be my best friend on God's green earth, Suzy DiCicco. Thank the Good Lord we both love Tony and Denny (yes, she likes both Logano and Hamlin. I'm really in no position to judge, seeing as I once liked an Allison, in my case Davey, and Darrell Waltrip simultaneously, though I do have the excuse of being five at the time), or else we probably wouldn't get along at all where racing is concerned.
See, Suzy feels pretty much the same about Kevin as I do about Joey. In fact, we were in the stands at the March 2010 Nationwide Series race at Bristol when Happy looped Logano's car exiting turn four on the last lap. Suzy's feelings on The Bakersfield Basher were solidified when the pair's cars again came together - though not in a bump-in-run scenario - at Pocono that June in the incident that led to Logano's famous "She wears the firesuit in the family" quip about DeLana Harvick.
Suzy and I give one another plenty of ribbing, bantering back and forth about "Crappy" Harvick and Joey "Lo-no-go." It's all in fun - for the most part - and when the other's respective driver wins, we grit our teeth and offer congratulations.
Just after Thanksgiving, Suzy made a request: that I tweet Joey (whom I do not follow and have not since the Pocono incident, after which I sent what remains to date my only "hate tweet" to any driver) and ask him to wish her a Merry Christmas. Oh, joy. To stick the knife in even deeper, she added the stipulation that I could not include my personal feelings for the driver of the No. 22 Fusion.
Monday night, well after the test at Charlotte Motor Speedway had been postponed, I decided to make my move and get this over with. Typing his handle into the tweet composition box (or whatever the heck we call that thing) felt quite odd, seeing as the last time I did it I was informing him in no uncertain terms that I thought his move on Mark was inappropriate, which I accentuated with a couple of less-than-kind adjectives and nicknames.
I sat staring for a moment at the box, empty aside from "@JoeyLogano" staring back at me. How was I going to word this tweet to the one driver I root against, hoping every week that his car winds up on pit road with the hood up and oil pouring from the header pipes? Would I even be able to type anything at all or would it look like The Fonz trying to admit he had been wr-wr-wr...you get my drift. I pondered what to say, and then a devilish smile crossed my face.
See, Suzy and I often joke that I never listen to anything she says anyway, so I
decided to ignore her decree. It's not like Logano would see the tweet
anyway, right? I mean come on, it's the off-season - Christmastime in
fact - and he's recently engaged. He's going to probably be busy, and my
request will be swept away, unseen, amid the sea of tweets from the
starstruck teenage girls who, best I can tell, make up 90% or more of
his fanbase.
I commenced to typing: "@JoeyLogano I don't like you - at all - but my best friend @EclecticSuzy loves you. Could you please make her holiday brighter with a tweet?"
"Phew," I exhaled. It was done. I was already wondering what sort of needle Suzy was going to stick in me for the way I worded the tweet, but I put those thoughts aside and moved onto another activity. A few minutes later, I returned to Twitter for a brief check-in, opened my mentions, and nearly fell out of my chair.
There was Logano's Twitter picture of his victory lane celebration at Michigan. To the right, his response read as follows: "I don't like you either but tell your nicer friend I said hey"
I burst into laughter, and based off her own response, Suzy did likewise. I composed myself, thanked him, and wished him a Merry Christmas. There was no further correspondence, aside from a handful of Logano fans who - like Suzy and myself - found the whole thing quite hilarious.
Talking to Suzy afterward and seeing her excitement meant the world. I love her like the big sister I never had - and she will tell you that I can be as annoying as a little brother, which we both were "blessed" with and know first-hand - so playing the butt of the joke to my least favorite race driver for the world to see was well worth it.
As for Joey, he probably didn't give the tweet a second thought after sending it. He also probably doesn't know just how much it meant to Suzy and I. Maybe he will one day, I can already picture Suzy running up to him at the Penske Racing complex or an autograph session and saying "Hi, I'm the nicer friend of that guy you don't like!"
I appreciate so much the time Joey Logano took to respond to one of his biggest detractors in order to make one of his biggest fans' year. I can't say that I like him as a race driver - that reconciliation remains distant, most likely - but as a person, his Twitter Christmas gift has given me reason to step back and give him a second look.
Maybe he isn't so bad after all...
Wednesday, December 11, 2013
Friday, November 15, 2013
Donovan McNabb and the Ignorance of the Race Driver Detractor
"There are only three sports: bullfighting, motor racing, and mountaineering; all the rest are merely games." - unknown, though generally attributed to Ernest Hemingway.
Make no mistake, those "mere games" -particularly North America's "Big Four" - are great forms of entertainment. I myself love the game of baseball - so long as it is played under National League rules - and type these words while wearing a t-shirt with the name and logo of my beloved Atlanta Braves. Some folks love the NBA and the heroes of the hardwood. Others yet clamor to watch the NHL and its two-for-one of top-flight professional hockey and the ultimate illegitimate fighting body. Last but certainly not least in terms of viewership comes the NFL, which has reigned as America's undisputed sporting king ever since the Major League Baseball strike of 1994.
Compared to the rigors faced by stock car drivers, especially prior to the safety revolution over the past 12 years and counting, they are indeed merely games.
Fans of the Big Four - especially the football fans it seems, though that perception could be skewed simply by the gargantuan fanbase the NFL enjoys compared to the other three - often deride professional racing, particularly NASCAR and its fans, by claiming it is not a sport. The most recent critic to throw his two cents into the discussion is former NFL quarterback Donovan McNabb, who stated Friday on a Fox Sports 1 talk show that our five-time (and likely, soon to be six-time) champ Jimmie Johnson is not an athlete because he drives a car.
To say that about just about any race driver is silly, but to say it about Johnson - a man who competes in triathlons - is downright idiotic.
I'm going to give Mr. McNabb, a man whom I have zero knowledge of aside from seeing him on soup commercials (actually making him one of my better-known football players), the benefit of the doubt and say that he is just plain ignorant. Like most motorsports detractors, he apparently thinks the racing edition Chevy SS that Johnson will use as he seeks that sixth crown in Sunday's Ford 400 is the same as the street model bearing the same name and - thanks to the Generation 6 platform - a strong aesthetic resemblance.
Racing fans know better, that Johnson's car and the other 42 like it in Sunday's race feature none of the creature comforts we mere mortals are accustomed to. And we know better than to think that racing is just a matter of taking left turns for three and a half hours. I won't rehash the same arguments about the g-forces and intense heat a driver must withstand for that amount of time with no scheduled break; they have been well chronicled elsewhere. Nor will I delve deep into the argument that race drivers do those things at nearly triple the speeds most folks run on the interstate, which many folks seem to have an issue staying out of trouble with while going in a largely straight line.
The fact of the matter is that it takes either a very athletic individual - like Johnson or Carl Edwards - or someone with the great upper-body strength needed to manhandle a race car (a la Tony Stewart) to be successful in the marathon Sprint Cup Series races. It also takes immense mental strength and focus. One momentary lapse and you are heading into the wall with an impact that makes an NFL linebacker's tackle (that's the guy that does most of the heavy hitting, right?) feel like that of a small puppy.
In a perfect world, we could take the naysayers, the Donovan McNabbs of the world, and stick them into a simulator that subjected them to the same factors that race drivers deal with, only stopping at the point of potential injury. Unfortunately, we can't, and so the generosity will continue. That is to say that those aforementioned naysayers will continue to give away their ignorance every time they opine on racing and race drivers.
Perhaps the time has come to quit worrying about what these idiots say about racing. They don't understand it and they never will, so what is the point of trying to hammer it into their ten-inch-thick skulls? Naysayers will always be naysayers, whatever the subject.
And who knows? Perhaps McNabb and company are right. Perhaps race drivers really aren't athletes.
Perhaps "athlete" is just too sissy a term to slap upon them.
Make no mistake, those "mere games" -particularly North America's "Big Four" - are great forms of entertainment. I myself love the game of baseball - so long as it is played under National League rules - and type these words while wearing a t-shirt with the name and logo of my beloved Atlanta Braves. Some folks love the NBA and the heroes of the hardwood. Others yet clamor to watch the NHL and its two-for-one of top-flight professional hockey and the ultimate illegitimate fighting body. Last but certainly not least in terms of viewership comes the NFL, which has reigned as America's undisputed sporting king ever since the Major League Baseball strike of 1994.
Compared to the rigors faced by stock car drivers, especially prior to the safety revolution over the past 12 years and counting, they are indeed merely games.
Fans of the Big Four - especially the football fans it seems, though that perception could be skewed simply by the gargantuan fanbase the NFL enjoys compared to the other three - often deride professional racing, particularly NASCAR and its fans, by claiming it is not a sport. The most recent critic to throw his two cents into the discussion is former NFL quarterback Donovan McNabb, who stated Friday on a Fox Sports 1 talk show that our five-time (and likely, soon to be six-time) champ Jimmie Johnson is not an athlete because he drives a car.
To say that about just about any race driver is silly, but to say it about Johnson - a man who competes in triathlons - is downright idiotic.
I'm going to give Mr. McNabb, a man whom I have zero knowledge of aside from seeing him on soup commercials (actually making him one of my better-known football players), the benefit of the doubt and say that he is just plain ignorant. Like most motorsports detractors, he apparently thinks the racing edition Chevy SS that Johnson will use as he seeks that sixth crown in Sunday's Ford 400 is the same as the street model bearing the same name and - thanks to the Generation 6 platform - a strong aesthetic resemblance.
Racing fans know better, that Johnson's car and the other 42 like it in Sunday's race feature none of the creature comforts we mere mortals are accustomed to. And we know better than to think that racing is just a matter of taking left turns for three and a half hours. I won't rehash the same arguments about the g-forces and intense heat a driver must withstand for that amount of time with no scheduled break; they have been well chronicled elsewhere. Nor will I delve deep into the argument that race drivers do those things at nearly triple the speeds most folks run on the interstate, which many folks seem to have an issue staying out of trouble with while going in a largely straight line.
The fact of the matter is that it takes either a very athletic individual - like Johnson or Carl Edwards - or someone with the great upper-body strength needed to manhandle a race car (a la Tony Stewart) to be successful in the marathon Sprint Cup Series races. It also takes immense mental strength and focus. One momentary lapse and you are heading into the wall with an impact that makes an NFL linebacker's tackle (that's the guy that does most of the heavy hitting, right?) feel like that of a small puppy.
In a perfect world, we could take the naysayers, the Donovan McNabbs of the world, and stick them into a simulator that subjected them to the same factors that race drivers deal with, only stopping at the point of potential injury. Unfortunately, we can't, and so the generosity will continue. That is to say that those aforementioned naysayers will continue to give away their ignorance every time they opine on racing and race drivers.
Perhaps the time has come to quit worrying about what these idiots say about racing. They don't understand it and they never will, so what is the point of trying to hammer it into their ten-inch-thick skulls? Naysayers will always be naysayers, whatever the subject.
And who knows? Perhaps McNabb and company are right. Perhaps race drivers really aren't athletes.
Perhaps "athlete" is just too sissy a term to slap upon them.
Saturday, November 2, 2013
Farewell, Miss Marcy
"Just yesterday morning, they let me know you were gone...I walked out this morning, and I wrote down this song. I just can't remember who to send it to." - James Taylor
Countless hearts collectively broke Friday morning, November 1, with the news that Atlanta Motor Speedway Promotion and Marketing Director Marcy Scott had passed away following a second bout with cancer. Though we knew the news, delivered by track president Ed Clark, was likely coming - probably sooner rather than later - it was still a blindside and a punch in the gut for those of us that held out hope and prayed nightly for a miraculous recovery until the very end.
I never met Miss Marcy in person, but she became a huge influence on me in the all-too-brief time I worked with her through my writing as SB Nation Atlanta's NASCAR writer. It didn't take very long for me to find out that if you were a writer in Georgia with the Atlanta Motor Speedway as a focal point of your work, a friendship with her was a huge asset. I found out that a friendship with her was a huge asset in life, as well.
After SBN eliminated their regional positions in early January, it was Marcy with whom I corresponded about the creation of this blog. She seemed intrigued by the idea of a site by an AMS lover for AMS lovers, and she asked me to pass along any comments from fans. Alas, as you see, the blog has been heavily neglected to this point. That will change now. Marcy believed in me as a writer even when I didn't, and fulfilling my plans for this site at its genesis will be my tribute to her.
My story is far, far from unique. The tributes that poured in after the news had set in Friday indicate as much. It is comforting to know that, in a way, Marcy will continue to live on through all the lives she touched.
It is even more comforting to know that, after the long, hard road she traveled, she'll never feel an ounce of pain again. She has raced under the Good Lord's checkered flag into the ultimate victory lane.
Still, as humans, one can't help but lament that she no longer walks among us. I deeply regret - and will as long as I live - that I never got to meet her and thank her in person for everything she did for me. The opportunity was there, for sure. See, I've never once mistaken myself for a media member, because frankly I am not. I'm just a huge, huge NASCAR fan who loves putting his thoughts on the sport into words and had a great opportunity to spend two seasons bringing the sport to fans in my beloved state. And yet, Marcy treated me as though I were a nationally-known scribe, with invitations to a variety of events surrounding the Speedway. I never went, as I feel strongly that people like myself don't belong among the actual media folks who worked through the ranks to become a respected reporter and made it their livelihood. Still, I wish I had let ego get the best of me just once, though, so that I could have met probably my greatest advocate as a writer outside of my mom.
It's so hard to balance being thankful that Marcy's ordeal is finally over and that she is in the Lord's company as I type these words with the selfish pity of wishing she were still with us. It shouldn't be, but it is. Ultimately, I guess we just have to look beyond our grief and realize that one's life isn't quantified by money or possessions but by love and the impact one has on others. By that score, Marcy lived one heck of a full life.
Farewell, Miss Marcy.
Countless hearts collectively broke Friday morning, November 1, with the news that Atlanta Motor Speedway Promotion and Marketing Director Marcy Scott had passed away following a second bout with cancer. Though we knew the news, delivered by track president Ed Clark, was likely coming - probably sooner rather than later - it was still a blindside and a punch in the gut for those of us that held out hope and prayed nightly for a miraculous recovery until the very end.
I never met Miss Marcy in person, but she became a huge influence on me in the all-too-brief time I worked with her through my writing as SB Nation Atlanta's NASCAR writer. It didn't take very long for me to find out that if you were a writer in Georgia with the Atlanta Motor Speedway as a focal point of your work, a friendship with her was a huge asset. I found out that a friendship with her was a huge asset in life, as well.
After SBN eliminated their regional positions in early January, it was Marcy with whom I corresponded about the creation of this blog. She seemed intrigued by the idea of a site by an AMS lover for AMS lovers, and she asked me to pass along any comments from fans. Alas, as you see, the blog has been heavily neglected to this point. That will change now. Marcy believed in me as a writer even when I didn't, and fulfilling my plans for this site at its genesis will be my tribute to her.
My story is far, far from unique. The tributes that poured in after the news had set in Friday indicate as much. It is comforting to know that, in a way, Marcy will continue to live on through all the lives she touched.
It is even more comforting to know that, after the long, hard road she traveled, she'll never feel an ounce of pain again. She has raced under the Good Lord's checkered flag into the ultimate victory lane.
Still, as humans, one can't help but lament that she no longer walks among us. I deeply regret - and will as long as I live - that I never got to meet her and thank her in person for everything she did for me. The opportunity was there, for sure. See, I've never once mistaken myself for a media member, because frankly I am not. I'm just a huge, huge NASCAR fan who loves putting his thoughts on the sport into words and had a great opportunity to spend two seasons bringing the sport to fans in my beloved state. And yet, Marcy treated me as though I were a nationally-known scribe, with invitations to a variety of events surrounding the Speedway. I never went, as I feel strongly that people like myself don't belong among the actual media folks who worked through the ranks to become a respected reporter and made it their livelihood. Still, I wish I had let ego get the best of me just once, though, so that I could have met probably my greatest advocate as a writer outside of my mom.
It's so hard to balance being thankful that Marcy's ordeal is finally over and that she is in the Lord's company as I type these words with the selfish pity of wishing she were still with us. It shouldn't be, but it is. Ultimately, I guess we just have to look beyond our grief and realize that one's life isn't quantified by money or possessions but by love and the impact one has on others. By that score, Marcy lived one heck of a full life.
Farewell, Miss Marcy.
Wednesday, August 7, 2013
Tony Stewart's injury situation, as viewed from one of his biggest fans
Ever since the news hit the wire that Tony Stewart had been injured in a sprint car accident in Iowa, opinions have been flying in from all directions and in all manners. He should quit moonlighting, he should keep doing it, it's a terrible thing, it's funny, it won't be the same without him in the race, it's karma for him firing Ryan Newman.
Most of those opinions were made known via social media, throughout Twitterville and on the various NASCAR-related Facebook pages by race fans, some who count themselves among Tony's massive fanbase, some who don't but wanted to offer their sympathies, and some who should perhaps tread a little lightly these next few days, lest they find themselves in a similar situation to his after expressing their glee over another human being breaking a leg.
The NASCAR media also opined, with stories ranging from those scolding him for putting his Sprint Cup program into this situation to those praising him for making fans aware of short tracks across the country in a day and age when city councils and other morons who moved into a neighborhood, knowing full well there was a race track that had been there for 50 years or more nearby, and complained about the noise are so eager to turn those hallowed grounds into a mini-mall or a parking lot.
The purpose of this story is to try to present the situation from the view of one of Tony's biggest fans. No, it won't be as eloquent as the great pieces written by USA Today's Nate Ryan or Fox Sports' Tom Jensen or pretty much any story written by ESPN's Marty Smith (the best in the business as far as I am concerned), but hopefully it provides a little insight on the situation for those who don't root for Tony and can't see the story from this angle.
When word came that Tony had been involved in a crash and taken off in an ambulance, my first thought -as I'm sure is the case for most who were awake when the news broke - was about Jason Leffler. Fortunately, there were soon reports from the Southern Iowa Speedway that stated that Tony had been awake and alert and talking to the officials and the safety workers. Then came the rumors of a leg injury that ranged all the way to a compound fracture to the femur before we finally got the official word from Stewart-Haas Racing that Tony had broken his tibia and fibula (the two bones in the lower leg, for y'all who didn't pay attention in health class or biology). With that came the news that Tony would be out for this weekend's Watkins Glen race and likely longer, with one surgery complete to stabilize the injury completed and another one left to actually work on fixing it.
I felt a wide range of emotions, from fear to relief to anger to immense disappointment to understanding. Let me say first that the anger was never once directed at Tony and his sprint car pursuits. It was directed at the aforementioned idiots who feel big behind a computer screen and talked about how funny it was that Tony had been hurt and this and that. They have no understanding of the business of racing (hence they would understand why Ryan Newman is out at SHR next year and Danica Patrick is still in, as backwards as that may be), and frankly a lot of them were these teenage girls who don't know an axle from a tailpipe and who's only knowledge of the sport is that "like, OMG, Kasey Kahne/Dale Jr./Carl Edwards/Jimmie Johnson/Jeff Gordon/insert-whoever-else-here is SO hot!" They aren't worth getting mad over, but when you see all this crap being said about your hero, it's hard not to become incensed. I seethed for a good while.
The fear part is obvious, an immediate fear that Tony was hurt severely or that we had lost him. Relief came when we learned it was just - just - a leg injury. That was followed by the immense disappointment over the fact that he wouldn't be able to go for a record-extending sixth win in Sunday's Cheez-It 355 at the Glen, the fact that I won't get to see him race at Atlanta next month (and at this point, nobody. Finances can't justify buying tickets to a race Tony isn't in), and the fact that for only God knows how long at this point I won't get to see him race period.
The understanding part, which I turn to anytime that disappointment tries to creep back in, is that we still have Tony. Like I said a minute ago, it is just his leg. Yes it probably hurts like the dickens right now and I feel absolutely terrible for him, but doctors can fix a leg the same way the mechanics can fix a race car. Heck, if Rick Mears could come back to race and win two more Indy 500s after his feet and legs were completely shattered in a 1984 IndyCar accident, Tony can come back from a broken lower leg with no problem. The key is that we still have him and that the Good Lord and his guardian angels - whom I assume include Jason and Kenny Irwin, who would have turned 44 Monday - were looking out for him.
The best part of the day of course was Tony's message to his fans on Facebook, thanking us for our prayers and support. I cackled at the first line that read "I told someone to go get my phone or I was going to get up and get it myself." Is that our Smoke or what?
Long before Tony's accident and injury, his extra-curricular activity has been a point of contention among his fans, detractors, and the NASCAR media corps. Now the line has hardened even more, with folks on either side either criticizing or defending it more loudly than ever. It is quite telling, though, that the folks who were calling the loudest even before Tuesday for him to quit racing sprint cars have never turned a competitive lap, while drivers, mechanics, and broadcasters past and present vocally supported him doing the short track racing if he so chooses.
I've never raced, probably never will, but I fall in line with the latter group. If racing in his spare time is what Tony wants to do, then shame on anyone who would want him to stop. Yes, there are times when I wish his car of choice was something different - a dirt late model, perhaps - but I would never, ever suggest that he quit. The fact of the matter is that he has fallen in love with winged sprint cars since getting the opportunity to start racing them on a more frequent basis a few years ago. That's what he wants to drive, so all I can do is sit back, pray for his safety, and wait for an update on how he did.
He's living his life the way he wants to live it. That is something to be envied. And yes, he is responsible to a lot of folks - not me or you, but to his sponsors, his employees at Stewart-Haas Racing, the crew members of the 14 car - but you have to imagine that they already knew before they signed on the dotted line what his intentions were. It is a unique situation with a unique individual. I saw Donna Richeson, who was part of the ownership group of the No. 11 team when her then-brother-in-law Brett Bodine ran the team from 1996-2003, talking about this subject yesterday and comparing it to the situation with their team. Now, I'm not going to criticize Donna; for one thing she's an awesome lady and one of my favorite folks to interact with on Twitter, and furthermore she's much more qualified to speak on the subject of team ownership that most folks, myself included, because she's been there.
Like I said, though, it is a unique deal. I have to figure - I don't know for sure, and I don't want to be mistaken for thinking I do - that everyone knew up front what they were getting into when signing on to race with Tony and the risks that would be involved. Disappointed as Bass Pro Shops, ExxonMobil, Rush Truck Centers (the scheduled primary sponsor for this weekend's race at The Glen), Coca-Cola, Nabisco, and all the other companies who support his team have to be with the circumstances, I doubt they feel blindsided by this. I hope they don't, because I love having those brands on his car and supporting them all I can. It would be a shame if this were to sour their relationship with Tony. Will things change going forward? Maybe, but that's a bridge that will be crossed when they reach it.
Hey, at least they had more forewarning than Joe Gibbs did. The Coach famously restricted a bit of Tony's short track racing when Tony was driving the No. 20 car. Just as famously, names like Smoke Johnson, Smokey Jones, Mikey Fedorcak Jr., and Luke Warmwater started showing up in short track entry lists. No one outside of his inner circle and whoever he happened to be driving for on that evening were anymore the wise until the race was over and - often in the winner's circle - he pulled off his helmet.
It's not fun to face the fact that the next several races, perhaps the rest of the 2013 season, will go by without Tony Stewart in the field. I love all of our drivers for the most part, but it is hard to think of it as a race if he isn't in it. That's probably the big reason I seldom actively seek out Nationwide, Camping World Truck, NHRA, or IndyCar races on television. Conversely, I haven't missed a Cup race since 1998, when I would skip watching the Jeff Gordon Show in order to watch Tony race in the IRL.
I just love the guy. I've never met him and I probably never will - if I did, I'd end up like Jackie Gleason as Ralph Kramden in The Honeymooners (Huminahuminahuminahumina) - but every time I see him on television or wherever, it is as though I'm seeing a distant cousin or something. I'm sure I'm far from the only fan that feels that way about their driver, but it's still neat. I never say that I am his biggest fan, because that is reserved for his family and friends, but I am as big a fan as you can get otherwise and I would absolutely nominate myself for his biggest fan in the state of Georgia.
It is tough to know he's hurt, and that he will be kept away from his passion for the next few weeks. People aren't defined by their profession, but when it comes to Tony Stewart, "racer" isn't his profession. It's who he is, period. In terms of contemporary American motorsports, I'd say without hesitation that he is the best at it. Hopefully there's something to bring him some peace, whether he takes up some guest broadcasting or ups his prank-pulling to a whole new level, as he deals with his recovery and this temporary lull in the action.
Monday, August 5, 2013
Has the time come for defending Advocare 500 champ Denny Hamlin to make the hard choice?
Another race, another hard crash, another argument for Denny Hamlin to strongly consider abandoning the remainder of the 2013 NASCAR Sprint Cup Series campaign.
Hamlin's vicious crash 14 laps into Sunday's GoBowling.com 400 at the Pocono Raceway and the subsequent 43rd-place finish was just the latest misery in a season that has turned into the kind of nightmare you wouldn't wish upon your worst enemy. The No. 11 FedEx team, one of the best in the business, has run terrible all summer. Even on days when things have looked brighter, like they are heading for a decent finish, something happens almost religiously to derail them. Generally, it has been a brutal shot into the wall, and that is the key in the argument for writing off 2013 altogether and coming back strong next year.
Were the poor results the 11 team has endured these last several weeks the result of mechanical woes or gentle wall-dings - relatively speaking, there aren't really any gentle hits when you're speeding around the track in a race car - it would be easy to sit back and admire their tenacity in soldiering on. It would be a lesson in perseverance in the face of unbelievable adversity for a team of that caliber. Instead, it seems as though Denny nearly knocks a hole in the SAFER barrier every week. How many more hits like that can he and his already-injured back endure before there is severe, possibly permanent and career-altering damage?
Denny has already proven himself to be a championship-contending race driver. He should have won the title in 2010, and he was strong last year before a few of late-season disasters dropped him to sixth in the final rundown. Watching the Virginian short-track ace work traffic on those types of tracks is one of the great enjoyments for a Sprint Cup fan, and his wins on the bigger, faster tracks - including last year's Advocare 500 at the Atlanta Motor Speedway - has proven him to be essentially a complete driver, at least on ovals. His day in the sun as Sprint Cup champion still seems to be out there, his for the taking.
It seems as though he is risking all of that in order to soldier through what has been a lost season pretty much since the final lap of the Auto Club 400 in March, when a rival driver decided that crashing Hamlin at a track where cars race at speeds approaching and surpassing 200 mph was a fitting payback for a bump and spin at 100 mph at the Bristol Motor Speedway a week prior.
What is there left to race for? A victory, in order to ensure that he maintains his streak of winning a race each year of his career (something only Tony Stewart and Jimmie Johnson can claim among active drivers) seems out of the question with the way the 11 team is performing. Getting to the point that they can even contend for a win at this point also seems a lost cause.
Denny is right to say that he is the face of FedEx's NASCAR program. Had Jason Leffler not been tragically killed in June, it would have been hard for a lot of race fans to name any driver besides Hamlin to drive the FedEx race car (Terry Labonte and J.J. Yeley also took the wheel in 2005 before Denny won the ride permanently in his late-season audition). Certainly a sponsor with so much invested in their race team (only Miller Brewing Company and Lowe's Home Improvement appear on the hood their respective cars in more races than FedEx holds primary status of the No. 11 Camry) realizes what is at stake. One has to imagine they would be willing to put someone else in their car for the remainder of the 2013 campaign in order to preserve a driver who has the potential to one day be enshrined in Charlotte.
Denny Hamlin is one of my favorite race drivers, and believe me, it would be disappointing to not see him in the field at Atlanta on Labor Day Weekend. That being said, I would much rather prefer to have the opportunity to see him race for 15 more years or so at his full ability than to have him risking his career and frankly his quality of life - the back is not something to mess with much - to compete while injured. I was all for his comeback earlier this year in a bid to win some races and show that even if he wasn't participating in the Chase, he would have been a title threat. That ship has sailed, and it seems pointless to risk his long-term career any further in order to salvage whatever it is the 11 team is looking to salvage at this point.
Hamlin's vicious crash 14 laps into Sunday's GoBowling.com 400 at the Pocono Raceway and the subsequent 43rd-place finish was just the latest misery in a season that has turned into the kind of nightmare you wouldn't wish upon your worst enemy. The No. 11 FedEx team, one of the best in the business, has run terrible all summer. Even on days when things have looked brighter, like they are heading for a decent finish, something happens almost religiously to derail them. Generally, it has been a brutal shot into the wall, and that is the key in the argument for writing off 2013 altogether and coming back strong next year.
Were the poor results the 11 team has endured these last several weeks the result of mechanical woes or gentle wall-dings - relatively speaking, there aren't really any gentle hits when you're speeding around the track in a race car - it would be easy to sit back and admire their tenacity in soldiering on. It would be a lesson in perseverance in the face of unbelievable adversity for a team of that caliber. Instead, it seems as though Denny nearly knocks a hole in the SAFER barrier every week. How many more hits like that can he and his already-injured back endure before there is severe, possibly permanent and career-altering damage?
Denny has already proven himself to be a championship-contending race driver. He should have won the title in 2010, and he was strong last year before a few of late-season disasters dropped him to sixth in the final rundown. Watching the Virginian short-track ace work traffic on those types of tracks is one of the great enjoyments for a Sprint Cup fan, and his wins on the bigger, faster tracks - including last year's Advocare 500 at the Atlanta Motor Speedway - has proven him to be essentially a complete driver, at least on ovals. His day in the sun as Sprint Cup champion still seems to be out there, his for the taking.
It seems as though he is risking all of that in order to soldier through what has been a lost season pretty much since the final lap of the Auto Club 400 in March, when a rival driver decided that crashing Hamlin at a track where cars race at speeds approaching and surpassing 200 mph was a fitting payback for a bump and spin at 100 mph at the Bristol Motor Speedway a week prior.
What is there left to race for? A victory, in order to ensure that he maintains his streak of winning a race each year of his career (something only Tony Stewart and Jimmie Johnson can claim among active drivers) seems out of the question with the way the 11 team is performing. Getting to the point that they can even contend for a win at this point also seems a lost cause.
Denny is right to say that he is the face of FedEx's NASCAR program. Had Jason Leffler not been tragically killed in June, it would have been hard for a lot of race fans to name any driver besides Hamlin to drive the FedEx race car (Terry Labonte and J.J. Yeley also took the wheel in 2005 before Denny won the ride permanently in his late-season audition). Certainly a sponsor with so much invested in their race team (only Miller Brewing Company and Lowe's Home Improvement appear on the hood their respective cars in more races than FedEx holds primary status of the No. 11 Camry) realizes what is at stake. One has to imagine they would be willing to put someone else in their car for the remainder of the 2013 campaign in order to preserve a driver who has the potential to one day be enshrined in Charlotte.
Denny Hamlin is one of my favorite race drivers, and believe me, it would be disappointing to not see him in the field at Atlanta on Labor Day Weekend. That being said, I would much rather prefer to have the opportunity to see him race for 15 more years or so at his full ability than to have him risking his career and frankly his quality of life - the back is not something to mess with much - to compete while injured. I was all for his comeback earlier this year in a bid to win some races and show that even if he wasn't participating in the Chase, he would have been a title threat. That ship has sailed, and it seems pointless to risk his long-term career any further in order to salvage whatever it is the 11 team is looking to salvage at this point.
Thursday, July 11, 2013
Davey Allison: Forever My Hero
"Was it really years ago? It seems like only yesterday..." - "Old Friend" by Waylon Jennings.
This Saturday, July 13, will mark 20 years since the death of David Carl Allison. The son of NASCAR legend and Hall of Famer Bobby Allison, Davey left the racing world in tears, the result of a helicopter accident a day prior in the Talladega Superspeedway infield. He was just 32-years-old, only beginning to truly realize his limitless potential as a stock car racing great in his own right.
Of all the men our sport has lost in the last two decades, none are the subject of more "what if?" questions than Davey. How good could he have been? How would the scope of NASCAR racing have changed? Would Davey, car owner Robert Yates, crew chief Larry McReynolds, and sponsor Texaco gone on to form one of the all-time greatest racing dynasties? What would the guys who emerged in the decade after his passing, such as Jeff Gordon and Tony Stewart, been able to accomplish head-to-head with the Alabaman?
Dale Earnhardt, who joined his old rival in the Lord's kingdom in 2001, even admitted once that he might not have been a seven-time champion had Davey's helicopter not gone down that windy July day. Successor Ernie Irvan's performance in the '94 season prior his near-fatal crash at Michigan would seem to confirm that Earnhardt would have had his hands full with Allison as he sought the record-tying seventh title. Could he have denied Earnhardt? Who knows?
The answer to all these questions can probably be found in a motto of the Pettys, racing's first family and no strangers to tragedy themselves: "Never put a question mark where God put a period." Still, human nature makes it difficult to not wonder how different things would be after the cataclysmic lost of a young man on the brink of the great things to which Davey seemed destined.
I was six-years-old when we lost Davey, and in retrospect I didn't really understand the gravity of his loss. I was sad, of course, and it felt very strange to watch Robby Gordon, Lake Speed, and finally Irvan take the wheel of the No. 28 over the remainder of the '93 campaign. I sort of moved on, though, continuing to watch the sport and transitioning into rooting for my parents' favorite driver, Bill Elliott. I became a big fan of Dale Jarrett when he joined Robert Yates Racing in 1995, and he and Elliott were my co-favorites until 1999, when Stewart arrived on the Cup scene and became my favorite driver - which he has remained to this day.
Perhaps it was a blessing, being too young in 1993 to be as affected as my fellow Allison fans who were too distraught to watch another stock car race after his passing. Had I been 26 then, I almost certainly would have been among their numbers. Racing would have held nothing for me any longer.
It wasn't until the middle of the last decade, in the years after Earnhardt's own death, that I began to really understand what losing Davey had meant. I would see these message forum postings and chat room messages from devoted Earnhardt fans who were still grieving his death as though it were the loss of a close friend or relative. I was not an Earnhardt fan - quite to the contrary, in fact - but his death had shaken me to my core at the time. I'd been able to move on, same as my fellow Stewart fans, the Gordon fans, Mark Martin's fans, Jeff Burton's, Rusty Wallace's, and so forth. The Intimidator's fans, though, were still trapped in their devastation from February 2001.
I would ask myself, admittedly quite callously, why these people couldn't just get over it, just get with the times, just move on, just let Earnhardt's memory rest. I tried to put myself in their shoes, but I couldn't. Aside from one race, his final career victory the Sunday after my uncle had passed in October 2000, I had never lost much love on Dale Earnhardt. I had cried when he passed and I felt an immense loss in the days afterward. Racing, it seemed, would never quite be the same. However, I couldn't empathize with the plight of his followers. There was no way for me to understand what they were feeling - or so I thought.
Without much rhyme or reason, I found myself thinking about Davey quite a bit, about where he would have been and what he would have accomplished. I took to searching for Davey Allison items on Ebay, just to see what collectibles were available and how much my own collection of his cars would be worth (not that I would ever in five or six lifetimes consider selling it). I felt this empty, hollow feeling any time I would run across a hand-signed piece. I also felt a great deal of envy. The person selling the item (or whoever they had gotten it from) had met Davey, gotten his John Hancock on a diecast car or a trading card or a baseball cap, and experienced first-hand the warm, genuine nature for which he is so fondly remembered.
I never had that opportunity. I never even got to see him race in person. The more I thought about it, the more I felt I had been robbed of something very important, like a child who is born without grandparents to visit for the summer.
Anytime I see Davey's picture now, something grabs at my heart. Watching video of his races on Youtube is often difficult, and I can scarcely stand to watch his interviews and hear his voice without becoming emotional. Last year, for the first time, I watched the tribute special that ESPN aired the night of Davey's death and was moved to tears.
Just as seeing the black and silver No. 3 Chevrolet is jarring for Earnhardt fans, seeing the black, yellow, and orange No. 28 Ford Davey raced from 1991 until his death has a profound impact on me. Finally, having grown to understand my own profound loss, can I relate to the heartbreak of Earnhardt's legion.
Make no mistake. The emotions related above are not necessarily negative. Usually they are quite warm and fond. I beam inside anytime I see the Texaco Star on a sign at a gas station. If Chevron knew just what kind of impact that symbol has on my fellow Allison fans and I, they would cease their incendious phasing out the Texaco brand (did you know Havoline motor oil is now branded as Chevron Havoline? For shame).
As I think back on Davey's life and career and lament not having the opportunity to meet him, I'm sort of left to wonder if perhaps I actually haven't quite recently.
In July 2010, days before the 17th anniversary of Davey's passing, I made my second trek to the International Motor Sports Hall of Fame at Talladega. The first had come in June 1993. We skipped out on seeing Earnhardt win at Dover that day to visit the place that, until the NASCAR Hall of Fame's opening, served as the preeminent shrine of motorsports greatness. A No. 7 Hooters T-Bird driven by Alan Kulwicki was on display in honor of the recently fallen champion. In the gift shop, my brother and I were each allowed one purchase. He picked out a wooden Indy-style racer. I, of course, grabbed a 1/64 Texaco T-Bird and tossed it on the counter with glee.
My return visit was with an ex-acquaintance and one of her friends, neither of whom were fans during Davey's all-too brief career. As they casually looked at some of the other cars on display, I found myself spending a lot of time near a car known as "Superstar." The 1987 Ford T-Bird is the car Davey raced that year to his second Winston Cup win at Dover (the final top-tier victory for a rookie until Tony won at Richmond in September 1999). It features his most famous scheme, the white/red/gold/black colors he used from his rookie campaign in '87 through 1989. A couple of wood tributes had been placed next to it in the years since I had previously seen it.
As I began viewing some of the other cars on display, I kept feeling this odd connection to Superstar. I'd look back at it ever so often, turn back to what I had been viewing or reading, and then repeat the process.
At one point I entered this one room of exhibits, actually a hall known as Flathead Alley as a tribute to Ford's famous engine. As I was inspecting the old Flathead V8, I had this strange sensation that I was being watched - and not by the acquaintance or her friend. I looked to one end of the hall. Nothing there. I looked to the other end. Peeking around the corner of the exit, as though it were keeping an eye on me, was Superstar. It was somewhat eerie, straight out of a Hitchcock picture, but moreso comforting.
After leaving the museum (which included a tour of the track itself, during which I spent several moments staring at the infield where Davey's chopper went down), we went to the Texaco Davey Allison Memorial Park and Walk of Fame, located in downtown Talladega. The Walk is a traditional oval lined with plaques of the various drivers who have been enshrined over the years. I was pretty emotional after reading the dedication to Davey at the entrance to the park and looking at the giant bronze Texaco Star that - if you're thinking of the Walk as a race track - serves as the start-finish line. I decided to take a few moments to compose myself, walking alone and viewing the plaques while trying to reconcile everything I was feeling.
As I "entered the third turn," I heard the sound of footsteps behind me. I assumed it was the acquaintance, coming to check on me and make sure I was okay and not about to break down and cry, so I turned to greet her.
There was nobody there.
I was probably just hearing things, mistaking a sound from the police headquarters adjacent to the park or something, but I can't help but wonder - given the earlier events with Superstar - if my old hero hadn't come down from Heaven for a few minutes to be with one of his biggest fans.
It's amazing how much our sport has changed since July 13, 1993. Neither Texaco nor Robert Yates Racing are even still active in the sport. Robert won just a single championship, with Jarrett in 1999, while the famous Texaco Star never got closer to the title than Davey's near-miss in 1992. Larry McReynolds, Davey's crew chief and close friend, retired from the pit box after the 2000 season and has served as a beloved analyst for FOX Sports ever since.
Most of the men against whom Davey battled have retired, their places on the grid taken by today's superstars like Jimmie Johnson, Carl Edwards, and Kyle Busch. Those who did race against him are certainly on the backside of their careers, with many more checkered flags in their rear view mirror than green flags remaining in their windshield. Heck, the rookie everyone (even a six-year-old like myself) was calling "Wonder Boy" in 1993 is now a four-time champion showing some gray in his hair as he bounces two young children on his knee.
Had Davey lived to fulfill his potential at the wheel of a stock car, it's likely that he too would now be on the sidelines, or at least in the twilight of a career that had seen him eclipse many of racing's all-time icons. Perhaps he would be a team-owner, fielding championship-caliber race cars that would quite possibly bear the No. 12 of his father's race team. Maybe he would be like his old friend Mark Martin, continuing to perform at a high level well into his fifties.
Those are all just more what-ifs, more question marks being raised in the face of the period God put on the life of one of the finest men He placed on this earth and one of the best to strap into a race car.
Racing has gone on for two decades without Davey. It will go on long after you, me, and anyone else who will be tuned in to Sunday's race at New Hampshire (the venue, believe it or not, where Davey ran his final race a day before his helicopter accident) have all gone to join him, Earnhardt, and the rest of our old heroes. Racing lives on, and so does Davey Allison in the hearts of those who loved him. I am proud to be among them.
God Bless, Davey. We love you.
The following lyrics are taken from the closing of the ESPN tribute that aired on July 13, 1993. The special can be viewed in three parts on YouTube. Follow this link to part one.
Race car driver on a burning track
Engine's turning, don't look back
Voices calling from far away
Anticipating, living for today
Wheels of thunder in your hands
Bound for glory your heart demands
One mistake could take it all away
You don't look back
You live for today
You can feel the power, you can hear the sound
Race car driver, come back around
Drive for glory, try to make your name
Head for the black and white and the champagne rain
Race car driver, you don't look back...
Race car driver, running free
Win for yourself
Don't look back, don't look back
Live for today
This Saturday, July 13, will mark 20 years since the death of David Carl Allison. The son of NASCAR legend and Hall of Famer Bobby Allison, Davey left the racing world in tears, the result of a helicopter accident a day prior in the Talladega Superspeedway infield. He was just 32-years-old, only beginning to truly realize his limitless potential as a stock car racing great in his own right.
Of all the men our sport has lost in the last two decades, none are the subject of more "what if?" questions than Davey. How good could he have been? How would the scope of NASCAR racing have changed? Would Davey, car owner Robert Yates, crew chief Larry McReynolds, and sponsor Texaco gone on to form one of the all-time greatest racing dynasties? What would the guys who emerged in the decade after his passing, such as Jeff Gordon and Tony Stewart, been able to accomplish head-to-head with the Alabaman?
Dale Earnhardt, who joined his old rival in the Lord's kingdom in 2001, even admitted once that he might not have been a seven-time champion had Davey's helicopter not gone down that windy July day. Successor Ernie Irvan's performance in the '94 season prior his near-fatal crash at Michigan would seem to confirm that Earnhardt would have had his hands full with Allison as he sought the record-tying seventh title. Could he have denied Earnhardt? Who knows?
The answer to all these questions can probably be found in a motto of the Pettys, racing's first family and no strangers to tragedy themselves: "Never put a question mark where God put a period." Still, human nature makes it difficult to not wonder how different things would be after the cataclysmic lost of a young man on the brink of the great things to which Davey seemed destined.
I was six-years-old when we lost Davey, and in retrospect I didn't really understand the gravity of his loss. I was sad, of course, and it felt very strange to watch Robby Gordon, Lake Speed, and finally Irvan take the wheel of the No. 28 over the remainder of the '93 campaign. I sort of moved on, though, continuing to watch the sport and transitioning into rooting for my parents' favorite driver, Bill Elliott. I became a big fan of Dale Jarrett when he joined Robert Yates Racing in 1995, and he and Elliott were my co-favorites until 1999, when Stewart arrived on the Cup scene and became my favorite driver - which he has remained to this day.
Perhaps it was a blessing, being too young in 1993 to be as affected as my fellow Allison fans who were too distraught to watch another stock car race after his passing. Had I been 26 then, I almost certainly would have been among their numbers. Racing would have held nothing for me any longer.
It wasn't until the middle of the last decade, in the years after Earnhardt's own death, that I began to really understand what losing Davey had meant. I would see these message forum postings and chat room messages from devoted Earnhardt fans who were still grieving his death as though it were the loss of a close friend or relative. I was not an Earnhardt fan - quite to the contrary, in fact - but his death had shaken me to my core at the time. I'd been able to move on, same as my fellow Stewart fans, the Gordon fans, Mark Martin's fans, Jeff Burton's, Rusty Wallace's, and so forth. The Intimidator's fans, though, were still trapped in their devastation from February 2001.
I would ask myself, admittedly quite callously, why these people couldn't just get over it, just get with the times, just move on, just let Earnhardt's memory rest. I tried to put myself in their shoes, but I couldn't. Aside from one race, his final career victory the Sunday after my uncle had passed in October 2000, I had never lost much love on Dale Earnhardt. I had cried when he passed and I felt an immense loss in the days afterward. Racing, it seemed, would never quite be the same. However, I couldn't empathize with the plight of his followers. There was no way for me to understand what they were feeling - or so I thought.
Without much rhyme or reason, I found myself thinking about Davey quite a bit, about where he would have been and what he would have accomplished. I took to searching for Davey Allison items on Ebay, just to see what collectibles were available and how much my own collection of his cars would be worth (not that I would ever in five or six lifetimes consider selling it). I felt this empty, hollow feeling any time I would run across a hand-signed piece. I also felt a great deal of envy. The person selling the item (or whoever they had gotten it from) had met Davey, gotten his John Hancock on a diecast car or a trading card or a baseball cap, and experienced first-hand the warm, genuine nature for which he is so fondly remembered.
I never had that opportunity. I never even got to see him race in person. The more I thought about it, the more I felt I had been robbed of something very important, like a child who is born without grandparents to visit for the summer.
Anytime I see Davey's picture now, something grabs at my heart. Watching video of his races on Youtube is often difficult, and I can scarcely stand to watch his interviews and hear his voice without becoming emotional. Last year, for the first time, I watched the tribute special that ESPN aired the night of Davey's death and was moved to tears.
Just as seeing the black and silver No. 3 Chevrolet is jarring for Earnhardt fans, seeing the black, yellow, and orange No. 28 Ford Davey raced from 1991 until his death has a profound impact on me. Finally, having grown to understand my own profound loss, can I relate to the heartbreak of Earnhardt's legion.
Make no mistake. The emotions related above are not necessarily negative. Usually they are quite warm and fond. I beam inside anytime I see the Texaco Star on a sign at a gas station. If Chevron knew just what kind of impact that symbol has on my fellow Allison fans and I, they would cease their incendious phasing out the Texaco brand (did you know Havoline motor oil is now branded as Chevron Havoline? For shame).
As I think back on Davey's life and career and lament not having the opportunity to meet him, I'm sort of left to wonder if perhaps I actually haven't quite recently.
In July 2010, days before the 17th anniversary of Davey's passing, I made my second trek to the International Motor Sports Hall of Fame at Talladega. The first had come in June 1993. We skipped out on seeing Earnhardt win at Dover that day to visit the place that, until the NASCAR Hall of Fame's opening, served as the preeminent shrine of motorsports greatness. A No. 7 Hooters T-Bird driven by Alan Kulwicki was on display in honor of the recently fallen champion. In the gift shop, my brother and I were each allowed one purchase. He picked out a wooden Indy-style racer. I, of course, grabbed a 1/64 Texaco T-Bird and tossed it on the counter with glee.
My return visit was with an ex-acquaintance and one of her friends, neither of whom were fans during Davey's all-too brief career. As they casually looked at some of the other cars on display, I found myself spending a lot of time near a car known as "Superstar." The 1987 Ford T-Bird is the car Davey raced that year to his second Winston Cup win at Dover (the final top-tier victory for a rookie until Tony won at Richmond in September 1999). It features his most famous scheme, the white/red/gold/black colors he used from his rookie campaign in '87 through 1989. A couple of wood tributes had been placed next to it in the years since I had previously seen it.
As I began viewing some of the other cars on display, I kept feeling this odd connection to Superstar. I'd look back at it ever so often, turn back to what I had been viewing or reading, and then repeat the process.
At one point I entered this one room of exhibits, actually a hall known as Flathead Alley as a tribute to Ford's famous engine. As I was inspecting the old Flathead V8, I had this strange sensation that I was being watched - and not by the acquaintance or her friend. I looked to one end of the hall. Nothing there. I looked to the other end. Peeking around the corner of the exit, as though it were keeping an eye on me, was Superstar. It was somewhat eerie, straight out of a Hitchcock picture, but moreso comforting.
After leaving the museum (which included a tour of the track itself, during which I spent several moments staring at the infield where Davey's chopper went down), we went to the Texaco Davey Allison Memorial Park and Walk of Fame, located in downtown Talladega. The Walk is a traditional oval lined with plaques of the various drivers who have been enshrined over the years. I was pretty emotional after reading the dedication to Davey at the entrance to the park and looking at the giant bronze Texaco Star that - if you're thinking of the Walk as a race track - serves as the start-finish line. I decided to take a few moments to compose myself, walking alone and viewing the plaques while trying to reconcile everything I was feeling.
As I "entered the third turn," I heard the sound of footsteps behind me. I assumed it was the acquaintance, coming to check on me and make sure I was okay and not about to break down and cry, so I turned to greet her.
There was nobody there.
I was probably just hearing things, mistaking a sound from the police headquarters adjacent to the park or something, but I can't help but wonder - given the earlier events with Superstar - if my old hero hadn't come down from Heaven for a few minutes to be with one of his biggest fans.
It's amazing how much our sport has changed since July 13, 1993. Neither Texaco nor Robert Yates Racing are even still active in the sport. Robert won just a single championship, with Jarrett in 1999, while the famous Texaco Star never got closer to the title than Davey's near-miss in 1992. Larry McReynolds, Davey's crew chief and close friend, retired from the pit box after the 2000 season and has served as a beloved analyst for FOX Sports ever since.
Most of the men against whom Davey battled have retired, their places on the grid taken by today's superstars like Jimmie Johnson, Carl Edwards, and Kyle Busch. Those who did race against him are certainly on the backside of their careers, with many more checkered flags in their rear view mirror than green flags remaining in their windshield. Heck, the rookie everyone (even a six-year-old like myself) was calling "Wonder Boy" in 1993 is now a four-time champion showing some gray in his hair as he bounces two young children on his knee.
Had Davey lived to fulfill his potential at the wheel of a stock car, it's likely that he too would now be on the sidelines, or at least in the twilight of a career that had seen him eclipse many of racing's all-time icons. Perhaps he would be a team-owner, fielding championship-caliber race cars that would quite possibly bear the No. 12 of his father's race team. Maybe he would be like his old friend Mark Martin, continuing to perform at a high level well into his fifties.
Those are all just more what-ifs, more question marks being raised in the face of the period God put on the life of one of the finest men He placed on this earth and one of the best to strap into a race car.
Racing has gone on for two decades without Davey. It will go on long after you, me, and anyone else who will be tuned in to Sunday's race at New Hampshire (the venue, believe it or not, where Davey ran his final race a day before his helicopter accident) have all gone to join him, Earnhardt, and the rest of our old heroes. Racing lives on, and so does Davey Allison in the hearts of those who loved him. I am proud to be among them.
God Bless, Davey. We love you.
The following lyrics are taken from the closing of the ESPN tribute that aired on July 13, 1993. The special can be viewed in three parts on YouTube. Follow this link to part one.
Race car driver on a burning track
Engine's turning, don't look back
Voices calling from far away
Anticipating, living for today
Wheels of thunder in your hands
Bound for glory your heart demands
One mistake could take it all away
You don't look back
You live for today
You can feel the power, you can hear the sound
Race car driver, come back around
Drive for glory, try to make your name
Head for the black and white and the champagne rain
Race car driver, you don't look back...
Race car driver, running free
Win for yourself
Don't look back, don't look back
Live for today
Thursday, June 27, 2013
Six-time AMS winner Bobby Labonte has been witness to NASCAR's evolution
The last time Bobby Labonte was not in a NASCAR Sprint Cup Series race, his future employer Richard Petty was.
That alone should illustrate the gravity of Labonte's absence from Saturday's Quaker State 400 at the Kentucky Speedway. Not since the famous 1992 Hooters 500 at the Atlanta Motor Speedway has the green flag fell on a top-level stock car race without the gentlemanly Texan somewhere in the starting grid. The sport has changed so immensely in the 704 races that have passed since that today's fan would scarcely recognize it were he or she to travel back in time to the first race of Labonte's streak, the 1993 Daytona 500.
There were 41 cars and drivers in the '93 500. Only two - Labonte and Jeff Gordon, both a part of that season's rookie class - remain active as full-time participants in 2013. Mark Martin still races the bulk of the schedule, though he will not be competing Saturday. Kenny Schrader, who only runs a handful of Cup races these days - opting instead to spend his time on the short tracks all across America - will be racing the No. 32 Ford he splits time in with a variety of drivers, including Bobby's brother Terry (who was in the midst of what would become a then-record 655-consecutive races streak). Michael Waltrip, now Martin's team owner, still chases checkered flags at the superspeedway races 20 years after he finished 16th at the wheel of the late Chuck Rider's Pennzoil Pontiac.
Three other drivers, Kenny Wallace, Derrike Cope, and Morgan Shepherd, remain active in the second-tier Nationwide Series.
The story of the other 32 drivers who took the green flag on Valentine's Day, 1993 varies widely.
Of course, we have sadly had to bid farewell to five participants. Reigning Cup champion Alan Kulwicki and one of his rivals for that '92 crown, Davey Allison, would both leave us within five months. Dale Earnhardt, runner-up to Dale Jarrett that cool Daytona afternoon, lost his life in the 2001 edition of the race. Bobby Hamilton succumbed to cancer a little under 14 years after wheeling his pink Country Time Ford around the Daytona high-banks. And just a few short weeks ago, we bode farewell to Dick Trickle, last in the '93 500 after a lap-3 engine failure in his white Carolina Pottery machine.
Some of the drivers in the race, including winner Dale Jarrett and Rusty Wallace (who provided perhaps the most notable moment of the race aside from its frantic finish when he flipped a dozen times on the backstretch), retired after long and successful careers. Wallace and Jarrett were both voted into the NASCAR Hall of Fame on their first ballot, and a similar honor likely awaits Georgia's favorite son, Bill Elliott (who finished 39th in the 500 with a car that resembled a geyser). Darrell Waltrip, one of the sports iconic competitors, also has been enshrined in Charlotte, and it stands to reason that Ricky Rudd, Geoff Bodine, and Harry Gant will join him.
Sterling Marlin and Kyle Petty (the 1993 Daytona 500 polesitter who had a memorable - and quite heated - discussion with Bobby Hillin Jr. after a late race crash) both retired in 2008. Petty now does television for Speed TV, as do Jimmy Spencer (who ran his last race in 2005) and Phil Parsons (who spent the remainder of his career largely in the Busch Series before retiring in 2001). Wally Dallenbach, meanwhile, serves as a color commentator for TNT's coverage.
Two drivers have gone on to join NASCAR in an official capacity. Brett Bodine serves as the pace car driver for the NASCAR Sprint Cup Series, while Chad Little is now the Director of Competition for the third-tier Camping World Truck Series. That series saw Ted Musgrave become a champion for the first time in his career, when he claimed the 2005 Truck crown after four consecutive near misses.
One of the most notable participants in the 1993 Daytona 500 was Al Unser Jr, at the time the reigning Indy 500 champ. He was involved in the aforementioned accident that knocked out Petty and Hillin, demolishing his Rick Hendrick-owned Valvoline Synthetic Chevrolet. He never again competed in NASCAR.
Among owners, only Hendrick, Jack Roush, Roger Penske, Richard Childress, Felix Sabates (now as a minority owner), and winning team owner Joe Gibbs (for whom Labonte would capture the 2000 Cup championship and his six Atlanta Motor Speedway wins) remain in the sport. Bill Davis, for whom Bobby Labonte competed in 1993 and '94, ended his Cup run following the 2008 season when he sold his team to Penske. Junior Johnson sold his team to Brett Bodine following the '95 season with Bodine himself exiting the sport in 2003, Kenny Bernstein's team ceased operations at the end of the '95 as well, Richard Petty's team was absorbed into what had been Gillet-Evernham Motorsports at the conclusion of 2008, Robert Yates retired from ownership that same year, and Dick Moroso, Billy Hagan, and Chuck Rider have all passed on long after the end of their participation in the sport.
And what about the sponsors that funded the 41-car field? Only Interstate Batteries (Jarrett), Miller (Wallace), Budweiser (Elliott), Pennzoil (Michael Waltrip), Valvoline (Martin), McDonalds (fourth-placed Hut Stricklin), Kellogg's (Terry Labonte), Quaker State (Brett Bodine), STP (Rick Wilson, in the renumbered No. 44 car that had been Petty's famous 43 ride; the 43 returned the following year), and Atlanta-based NAPA (Jimmy Hensley) are still active as primary sponsors. Maxwell House, which adorned Labonte's car, is long gone, as is Texaco Havoline, Hooters, Western Auto, Skoal Bandit, Kodak Film, GM Goodwrench, Citgo, Raybestos Brakes, Tide, and Mello Yello, all of which were major players in NASCAR at the time.
There have been plenty of other changes in the years since that '93 race. Rockingham and North Wilkesboro no longer host Cup events, Darlington and Atlanta are relegated to just one, and the sport now competes in Fort Worth, TX, Fontana, CA, Las Vegas, NV, Loudon, NH, Joliet, IL, Kansas City, KS, Sparta, KY (site of this weekend's event), and of course most notably, the Indianapolis Motor Speedway.
Toyota has joined Chevrolet and Ford on the circuit (the Japanese automaker's rides include the No. 47 Camry that Labonte regularly drives), while the Pontiac brand has ceased to exist altogether. Dodge returned to the sport in 2001 before exiting once again at the end of the 2012 season. The cars themselves have undergone a pair of major overhauls, first in 2007 with the "Car of Tomorrow" and again this year with the new "Gen-6" automobiles that have rekindled the resemblance between street cars and stock cars.
Atlanta-based UPS, Rheem, and The Home Depot join Lowe's Home Improvement, ExxonMobil, the National Guard, 3M, Mars (which had been in the sport as a primary sponsor prior to '93 before returning in 1997), FedEx, Target, and Quicken Loans as companies that now serve as primary sponsors.
Labonte has seen all of this over the course of his 704-race streak, and plenty remains to be seen once he returns to the wheel of the No. 47 Toyota at Daytona next week.
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