The final race of another season is hours away as I sit, almost alone, in the Homestead-Miami Speedway press box. This is the end of my 17th season of NASCAR comprising the vast majority of my livelihood. I think it’s accurate to declare that I’ve been to two thirds or more of the races in every season beginning with 1993.
I’m not sure familiarity breeds contempt, but it breeds unrest. I still love racing, but I’ve grown more and more disillusioned with it at the highest level, where, by the way, it probably wasn’t when I started out.
I saw my first major NASCAR race when I was seven, and I’ve followed it since my earliest memory. This has been my most difficult season ever, though, in fairness, much of the tumult had little to do with the actual racing.
David Poole died on April 28, and for six months I astonished myself with an utter inability to grieve. For more than half a year, I was basically numbed out. My guard against grief was amusement. I listened to radio and TV as dozens of people David despised talked about what great friends they had been. Some were being polite. Some were using affiliation with a dead man to advance their own career and interests. It was unseemly … but hilarious. I chuckled often thinking of times David and I spent together: having dinner after a race, playing golf, arguing, laughing, etc.
It wasn’t until about a week ago that I finally shed my first tears for the late, great David Poole. Why it took so long baffles me. I can’t explain myself. I can only be myself.
On the other hand, I should’ve been completely prepared for the death of Jeff Snipes. He was. For two years we talked and visited from time to time, both knowing that the cancer he had would kill him. Yet, when he actually died, it threw me for a loop. No, a loop-the-loop. It jerked me around like a rickety fair ride. I don’t think I ever cried about Jeff’s death, which was on July 20, either. But, for about half a day in Indianapolis, I felt a little insane. Only a nightmare, surely sent down by a mischievous ghost whose middle name was Windell, knocked some sense back in me. Jeff knocked sense back in me from time to time for as long as I knew him, which is to say, since 1977. Perhaps even longer than I actually knew him, in the flesh, so to speak.
I’ve been limping around for seven weeks, but now I think my left foot is almost well, and the trouble associated with it is more a result of my own all-powerful stubbornness than the fall that actually caused it. I’ve treated that foot awfully badly, but I’ve been bathing it tenderly with warm towels and lotion now for several weeks, and antibiotics have it almost straightened out, though I won’t know until the coming week, which will mark the first opportunity to really stay off it.
I’ve reached the age where the only birthday present each year is usually a new medication.
This is a year that profoundly affected me, and I’m still coming to grips with how and why. And what to do about it.
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A year that took a toll
November 22nd, 2009, 1:21 pm by mduttonMiami by midnight?
November 19th, 2009, 10:21 am by mduttonAirports must be secretly run by the Internal Revenue Service. Or AIG. Or Isiah Thomas. Or Matt Millen. They run like silent films, full of hijinks and madcap antics.
Supposedly, I’ll be in Miami tonight and at Homestead-Miami Speedway tomorrow. Right now I’m sitting in one airport, with two more to go, and the whole country, apparently, is ensnarled in delays stemming from some computer glitch.
What? Are they using MY laptop? Have they run out of space on the hard drive? Is there a virus? Did the Federal Aviation Administration download the smiley face that destroys everything in their computers? Did they try to cash in with the lady from Uganda who wants to give them $3.1 million dollars because she understands they will use it to benefit mankind?
I hope it was none of these things.
I would feel better if my next stop wasn’t Atlanta. I don’t know if the heirs of Hartsfield and Jackson have something against me, but that airport almost always has some form of bad news — thunderstorms, canceled flights, misplaced bags — in store for me. Why did I choose to fly through there today? I can’t remember. The ticket’s been ordered for months. Maybe I had been drinking when I booked it online. Maybe I was distracted. Maybe the Red Sox had a rally going. More likely, I was just stupid.
Fortunately, I do have a hefty layover in Atlanta (never thought I’d write those words). Perhaps, by the time my flight leaves here — they don’t even seem to be considering a takeoff at present — there will still be time to make the Miami connection. More likely, my salvation will be a further delay from Atlanta to Miami.
Why is it that, so many times, I find myself thinking, you know, if I had to do it over, I think I’d just hitch-hike? Or hop a freight train. Do they still have those “railroad bulls” patrolling the yards, beating hapless hoboes? Or are those people’s descendants now working behind “kiosks” in airports, victimizing hapless travelers emotionally and mentally instead of physically?
What would happen if I mailed myself?
Examining the Phoenix odds
November 14th, 2009, 11:36 am by mduttonThe current Flat Track King, Denny Hamlin, has never won at this one.
The driver who probably should’ve won more times at Phoenix than any other track, Tony Stewart, hasn’t won here since his rookie season, 1999.
The all-time leader at Phoenix is — guess who? — Jimmie Johnson with three victories.
Mark Martin, driver mostly closely pursuing Johnson in the Chase, won here earlier this year.
Juan Pablo Montoya could win at at any time at any track. Still, one has to go back to 2007 and Sonoma for a win any time at any track.
So, the question becomes, just what does one make of the statistics? The prevailing view, of course, is that the driver most successful at a track is the mostly likely to win again, but it can be viewed differently.
Is Hamlin “due”? Is Stewart? Most certainly. It remains to be seen if this is “the day.”
Dale Earnhardt Jr. has won here twice, but, regardless of the reason, that was before he sort of lost his touch. This, obviously, would be a great place to regain it. Then again, that could be said of anywhere.
The top five in the Chase have all won here in the past. The remaining seven have all never won here.
Drivers in this year’s Chase have combined for eight Phoenix victories. Drivers outside the Chase have combined to win eight.
Silly me
November 6th, 2009, 3:47 pm by mduttonJuan Pablo Montoya came into the Texas Motor Speedway media center dressed in a uniform that said:
DREAM IN COLOR
This is how naive I am. I took the message literally. I’ve always heard that the majority of people dream in black and white. So, in a feeble attempt at humor (I called it “frivolous” when I asked the question), I asked Montoya what he was going to do for people who dream in black and white.
Of course, he didn’t realize what I was talking about, and I didn’t realize what the message on his uniform meant.
“Dream in color” refers to “people of color.” Here’s what Montoya said:
“I think it’s a great campaign because it reflects, and it shows people it doesn’t matter where you’re from or what you do. I know its Hispanic Heritage Month and everything, but it really shows people that you can achieve anything. I’ve done it, and I know a lot of people that have been in the program. If you want something and work hard enough for it, you can do it. It doesn’t matter where you are from or how you got there. It’s a really cool thing Target is doing.”
Duh.
Personal pros and cons on Talladega race morning
November 1st, 2009, 10:02 am by mduttonThe Talladega area was obscured in some major-league fog this morning. The backroads drive from Anniston to the track was difficult. Now, though, nature has cut all of us in the press box (it’s hard enough to see anything from here already) a break. After arriving very early in the morning, there’s a sun field that cooks the lower rows of the press box until the sun rises above the window. This morning the fog didn’t boil off until the sun was almost high enough for it not to matter. The work environment, at this moment, is thus quite pleasant.
On the down side, I’ve got crutches tucked away in the back of the press box. On the plus side, I’ve got Lyle Lovett’s new CD playing through head phones, and Natural Forces includes a song, “Sun & Moon & Stars,” that was written by my Pawlessfest chum Vince Bell. I know Vince and wife Sarah, I’ve read his book and basically profited from the fact that we have a common friend, guitar maker Vince Pawless. Vince (Bell, that is) is more a friend of a friend than an actual friend, but I think a lot of him and find his story, not to mention his songs, inspirational.
Now that the fog has lifted, it’s a glorious, cloudless day. I got a text message this morning from some hometown friends — I joined them at Darlington earlier this year, guitar in hand — who are camped out somewhere in these vast, sprawling grounds. Thanks to the now-improving-but-still-worrisome left foot, I’m not up to that this time. Lack of mobility plagues me, but probably no more than my own stubbornness over the past few weeks. I am the master of my fate; I am the captain of my soul. The only blame for this mess is mine.
I look forward to today’s race. I’m glad not to have my foot elevated, heel on a wet-hot towel, though it probably needs to be there. I’ll get back to rehab tonight.
For now, though, my recovery is fueled by high hopes for something to write about, and in that category, Talladega seldom fails.
Something will change
October 29th, 2009, 5:40 pm by mduttonNASCAR officials, not particularly fond of the prospect of another soaring, flipping car at the finish line at Talladega, have changed the restrictor plates for this fourth and final restrictor-plate race of the season. They have also raised the height of the catch fences … for obvious reasons.
The racing will change. It always does. No one knows how it will change, but the driver who figures out how it’s changed might be the guy who wins the Amp Energy 500.
This is subtle. You’ll have to watch closely. With a little less power, drafting help may be more important. Since the generic cars came into use, it’s been easier for drivers to “go it alone.” The last two races here have seen one car (or two working together) seemingly faster than a group of them in the final lap at this most frightening of NASCAR venues. A year ago, Regan Smith swooped into the lead at the end (though NASCAR didn’t allow it to stand) and, in the spring, “the swoop” came from winner Brad Keselowski and ill-fated Carl Edwards.
The aerodynamic sands are always shifting here. Every time cars change, whether by seemingly minor changes in horsepower or changes in car configuration, the racing changes, too.
No one’s likely to know how it changes until the actual laps wind down and drivers start trying desperately to find an edge.
Someone will probably find it. It may play back into the hands of a driver — say, Dale Earnhardt Jr. — who has lost what once was an edge at Talladega. There may be a “Eureka moment” for someone who hasn’t excelled at Talladega in the past.
What went up … came down
October 27th, 2009, 1:15 pm by mduttonOf Steve Addington, this can be said.
When Kyle Busch moved to Joe Gibbs Racing from Hendrick Motorsports, his career took off while working with Addington. The combination may not have been Johnson-Knaus, but it was better than Kyle Busch’s previous combination(s).
Years before I got to do this full-time, I got to know Addington when he worked with Jason Keller, and this was pre-Busch Series. Keller was a star in the All Pro Series, and Addington was his right-hand man. He was crew chief and a lot more.
At the top, it’s been a roller coaster. He went from relative obscurity to big name while paired with rising-star Busch, and then things went downhill (let’s not forget, by the way, that Busch has won four times this year and just because he’s out of the Chase, it doesn’t mean he’s out of mind).
So now Dave Rogers gets his Sprint Cup shot, and all signs are that he’ll be a fine crew chief here just like in Nationwide. Addington gets reassigned and will probably end up being less appreciated than he ought to be for what he did with Busch.
Steve’s among the last people that will bother. He’s a good guy who does his best and doesn’t allow himself to be haunted by “might have beens.” There aren’t many drivers out there who wouldn’t be lucky to have him.
All in all, it doesn’t get much better
October 25th, 2009, 10:22 am by mduttonIt’s race morning at Martinsville, which is a righteous thing.
It’s been a while since I’ve covered a race in which the odds seemed so strong of one particular driver winning. Jimmie Johnson has won five of the past six races at Martinsville, which is NASCAR’s smallest (.526 mi.) track and among its more unique.
Wonder what the posted odds are in Vegas (yes, I realize that, if so inclined, I could probably figure out a way to look this up)? Based on the prevailing view on site, it’s almost as if there could be only two betting choices, Johnson and the field.
Many fans insist, despite all evidence to the contrary, that Johnson is “nothing special” as a driver. They think it’s “all car.” In fact, some of them are demanding that Rick Hendrick make Chad Knaus the crew chief of, guess who, Dale Earnhardt Jr. If he did that, and if Earnhardt won the championship next year, I bet almost no one would say it was “all car.”
The bad news is that Johnson gets little credit for his great works and deeds. The good news is that he is one of few people on earth who isn’t particularly bothered by that. I don’t think he much cares whether he gets enough credit or not. He probably enjoys not having the hassle of mobs following him everywhere. Think about Earnhardt Jr., who has the mobs but not the success. Sure, Junior loves his fans, but they do get in the way of living a somewhat normal life.
I think it would be cool today if someone other than Johnson wins, but that’s not because I dislike Johnson. It’s because writing the same thing over and over gets old.
As for the original notion — the last time I covered a race where one driver seemed such an overwhelming favorite — it was, ironically, probably Earnhardt Jr. (not to mention his father before him) at Talladega in the early years of this decade.
As if I haven’t already written this enough over the years, I love this track, this area, these fans and this race. Sitting here in this press box — the Dick Thompson Press Box, named for one of my favorite people in NASCAR — I can see fans arrayed in their campers and tents on the rolling pasture behind the back straight. I can see the changing colors of autumn and the hubbub of activity in the infield.
To my way of looking at it, this is NASCAR’s most charming venue. It may be its only charming venue. Most race tracks are like football stadiums. They’re imposing, not charming. Baseball parks are often charming.
Martinsville is charming.
Indigestion’s perfect storm
October 23rd, 2009, 1:50 pm by mduttonSunday’s race here is known as the Tums Fast Relief 500, and since NASCAR fans are famous for indigestion, they’re all going to be grand marshals.
Presumably, they will all belch as one: Gentlemen, start your engines.
Tums partnerships bring certain perks. In the Martinsville Speedway media center, coinciding with the world-famous Serving of the Hot Dogs, a barrel of Tums was nearby, sort of like an emergency medical crew. Imagine how this bold new policy can reinvigorate our national health-care debate.
Truly the Martinsville hot dogs made this deal possible. Even Darren Singer, the vice president of marketing, spoke briefly about how perfect a market this is for indigestion relief. Every track has gut-wrenching activities – superhuman consumption of beer, barbecue and miscellaneous other substances, long hours, little sleep, loud noise – taking place for days. According to a state trooper, fans have been lined up for more than a week in anticipation of getting heartburn (and good camping sites) here.
But at the midst of what makes Martinsville indigestion’s perfect storm are those hot dogs, beloved for their rosy and otherworldly pink hue (which, quite unintentionally, raises breast-cancer awareness), their chopped onions and slaw, their mustard and sodium.
Frankly, not any antacid can neutralize Martinsville hot dogs.
The plan is for 65,000 surly indigestion sufferers to regain their health by power-chomping Tums just in time to wave the 65,000 little green flags distributed to them along with discount coupons diabolically attached to the poles.
Poor devils. After two days of nonstop hot dogs, they’ll be addicted to Tums like bees to honey. As Merle Travis once wrote about coal mining, “Like a fiend with his dope, a drunkard his wine, a man will find lust for the lure of the mine.”
A force of NASCAR (and nature)
October 19th, 2009, 9:40 am by mduttonI have often decried overreaction in my colleagues. I have extolled patience as an under-used virtue.
Yet I am presently in danger of succumbing to the temptation. A lot of what I’ve recently written has been dedicated to the budding runaway of Jimmie Johnson in his relentless quest for a fourth consecutive Sprint Cup championship.
Yet the Chase is only halfway over. Johnson’s edge, 90 points, is considerable, but not impossible to surmount.
When I get to Martinsville, I’m going to watch one driver after another stroll into the infield media center to say “it’s not over,” and that refrain will take many forms. But the main reason most of them are going to be saying is that they’re worried, too. Eleven other Chase teams have that sinking feeling, whether they’re inclined to admit it or not. Being in denial is better than giving up.
A 90-point edge kind of makes Johnson’s lead Talladega-proof, particularly if, as expected, he pads it at Martinsville, where he’s only won five of the past six races.
If Johnson has an off week, that’s not going to make the sport’s collective psyche stop sinking.
Here’s what can change the frame of mind: Beat Johnson. One on one. With a race on the line. Outrun him. Don’t just beat him on pit road. Whip him on the race track.
The last two races, Jeff Gordon, probably one of the 10 best drivers ever to strap himself into a stock car, has tried so hard to oust his teammate from victory lane.
Gordon’s too good to settle for moral victories. NASCAR awards no points for morality.
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