From the NASCAR Pits

I guess I qualify as an old hand here. I’ve been to every (now) Sprint Media Tour since 1992. Grammatically speaking, that means my first was 1993 (for those of you keeping a scorecard at home).
Let’s see. I started out when it was headquartered in downtown Charlotte. I can’t remember which was first, but the home hotel was the Government House and Radisson at various times back then. Once more development sprawled out toward the Speedway, the tour moved to the Hilton near UNCC. For the past few years, it’s been at the Embassy Suites between the Speedway and and the Concord Mills mall.
Not that any of this is particularly important, mind you.
Years ago, there were many more bus trips. We traveled far and wide from our Charlotte base. It wasn’t unusual to get on a bus and go to Stuart, Va., or Dawsonville, Ga.
Now the great majority of the stops aren’t really stops. They’re held in huge ballrooms at the hotel. This leaves those of us struggling to file on a daily (more than that in the Internet/MySpace/Facebook/Twitter age) basis with a bit more time to write. It used to be a real struggle because travel delays frequently ate into the so-called “writing time.” I don’t even take the laptop on the bus anymore; there’s time to write in the room, though it’s still hectic.
What I miss, in a way, is the chance to talk to regular crewmen in the shops. Now the press conferences are sort of confined to blue-ribbon panels consisting of owners, drivers, crew chiefs and representatives of their corporate sponsors. There’s little intimacy.
One of my favorite nonsensical terms is “one-on-ones.” After press conferences, we are allowed to “break out” for “one-on-ones.” The appropriate terms would be “30-on-ones,” or, as I prefer, “feeding frenzies.”
I like to sit back, chitchat and let the frenzies die down. Then, before it’s time to move on, I try to conduct interviews alone or in the company of just a few. It’s more polite, gentlemanly and there’s the small possibility of getting something that isn’t shared by the aforementioned 30. It’s also true that transcripts are often circulated of the what was said when the frenzies were large.
While many of us write on a daily basis, the main benefit is storing stuff away. Most of us have pretty stringent work loads between now and February, when we’ll pack up and head for Daytona Beach. Next week won’t be a media frenzy; it’ll be “holed up at the house, cranking out copy.”
This is a good time to get ready for the season, though. All is optimism. No one has “missed the Chase” or “fallen out of the top 35.” There’s always some new magic that’s going to improve the racing. This year it’s replacing the wing with the spoiler on the backs of the cars. Strictly speaking, that’s old magic.
So the circuit will roar off the line at Daytona, then move on to other distant outposts. The wing will still be around until late March, and when it first appears, at Martinsville, no one will be able to tell the difference. The true tests will come later.
For now, the potential Chase has 30 cars or so. Hope springs eternal. At the moment, everyone’s in a good mood. No one has been wrecked by “some stupid kid who doesn’t know what he’s doing.”
Eventually a lot of this laughter will die in sorrow. But that’s true of any competitive endeavor. For now, “every hand’s a winner and every hand’s a loser” … and we’ll leave out the rest of that old country song’s sentiments.
Take heart. The season draws nigh.