Jan. 28, 2008 - All About HARF

This past weekend marked the 56th annual Hoosier Auto Racing Fans (HARF) Awards Banquet, but we Central Indiana race fans simply call it the “HARF banquet.”

HARF is an old club, with a mission that has never changed through the years: “to do everything possible to improve all auto racing.” It’s a neat group of people, and it’s been fun to see the club change through the years. I stumbled onto the club when I began my writing career a few miles north in Anderson in the early 1980s, and since then the leadership of the club has evolved to a new generation of officers. However, the cozy, pleasant atmosphere is still very much a part of the banquet, and of the club itself.

Back in the day—the 1950s through '70s—HARF had a huge membership, with bus trips to championship races and the like. Membership has probably declined some since then, although HARF is still one of the most successful and robust fan clubs in all of auto racing.

There are a lot of graybeards in the club today, but lots of younger people, too. Maybe that’s because if you’re a race fan in Indiana—particularly a sprint car fan—you simply can’t beat the excellent value of a HARF membership. Annual dues are just $15, but that entitles you to nice discounts at the front gate of a couple dozen (or more) racing events each year. You get your money back many times over, but more importantly, you meet a lot of friendly race fans who truly enhance your experience at many tracks in the Hoosier state.

I’ve attended plenty of HARF banquets through the past 25 years, and I have some great memories. For example, in 1991 a teen-aged Jeff Gordon wept uncontrollably as he accepted his HARF Driver of the Year award. What a warm, wonderful memory. This year’s HARF Driver of the Year, Jon Stanbrough, didn’t weep, but he gave a nice acceptance speech to emcee Kimb Stewart. Stanbrough isn’t exactly a weepy kind of fellow, you see, but he’s one great racer. He and his car owners, Steve and Brad Fox, won 30 sprint car races this past season. Wonder if anybody can displace them at the top in ’08?

Incidentally, Chris Economaki was inducted into the HARF Hall of Fame this past weekend, joining Indiana sprint car owner Paul Hazen. For Chris, it was another great honor, alongside the dozens of awards he has received in his lifetime. I was honored to accept on Chris’s behalf, as he was unable to attend. I wonder: In the long history of auto racing, has any person been honored more often than Chris? I doubt it!

All in all, it was another enjoyable afternoon with HARF. Want to know more about the club? Go to the following link to learn more about HARF.
www.harfonline.org/index.html

Jan. 21, 2008 - From The Aisle Seat

It's getting noisier in here, and I'm looking for the person in 5-B. A dozing, deadhead US Airways pilot is in 5-A, while I'm on the aisle in 5-C, leaving a deliciously empty middle seat. Do I dare dream about the possibility that it might remain vacant, offering two hours of easy, spacious comfort?

It's middle-seat lottery, now in full play. I look up the aisle, watching passengers step aboard the aircraft and turn right toward coach. Is my seat partner the shapely young lass in the tight sweater? That wouldn't be so bad. No, she sweeps past, looking further back. Oh, no, it's a mother with a small child...I promise, God, I'll be a better person from here on end if only...oh, good, she went right by. Was I saying something, God? We'll talk again soon. Uh-oh...here comes a big fellow, he probably strains the scales at something north of 310. My left side feels cramped just thinking about the possibilities...whew, he's farther back.

Soon the stream of humanity begins to diminish, and before long there is nothing but an empty aisle. I can hear people behind me, getting settled in, cramming bags and coats and stuff into the overhead bins, cracking them closed with a sharp, resounding bang. Could it be? An empty seat all the way to Indianapolis? I'm counting the moments, and soon the cabin door closes, and we're pushed away from the snug, cozy parking spot at Gate C-26.

It's a quiet ride home, with lots to reflect on. Two whirlwind days in Atlantic City at Len Sammons' Motorsports 2008 show, wedging interviews and book signings between wonderful conversations with many old friends from the east. Doug Wolfgang and I were here to promote our book, Lone Wolf, and a good time was had by all.

It was neat to watch Wolfie interact with so many old rivals. He's a country boy from Sioux Falls, South Dakota, and since his sprint car career ended in 1997 he's done very little traveling, particularly back east. So this weekend allowed him to reconnect with lots of familiar faces.

Jimmy Horton, Kramer Williamson, Dave Blaney, Rick Eckert, Gary Gollub, Kenny Brightbill, and many more, all sharing war stories and laughter. It's interesting how time, like the finest grade of sandpaper, removes the edges from our past disappointments, yet leaves the happy times and memories intact. Old rivals become old friends, and stories that may have once brought hard feelings now are greeted with shared smiles and friendly pats on the back.

Horton told a funny story that, had I heard it a year ago, would have been in the book. Although Horton is probably known more for his outstanding career in dirt modified racing, he was a very good sprint car driver at various times in his career.

"It was probably around 1980 or so, and I was getting out on the road a little bit with the (World of) Outlaws," he said in his fast, familiar New Jersey clip. "Wolfie was kind of helping us out, showing us the ropes at all these new tracks. We got to Devils Bowl in Texas, and we qualified real good. We were real happy.

"Wolfie came over after qualifying and asked how we were. I told him, 'You're in trouble tonight, because we're real good. REAL good!' Well, Wolfie doesn't say anything, he just gives us that dumb-looking smirk, just like he's wearing right now. He just waves and turns around and walks back to his race car.

"Well, he didn't tell us that the place always tightens up a ton after time trials. We're in our heat and on the first lap we whistle down into the corner, and the car is so tight the left rear lifts off the ground, and I go end-over-end out of the place. So much for showing us the ropes!

"Well, we figured we'd fix him. So we went out and got these shirts made up that said, 'Sioux Falls Sissy' and we all wore 'em the next night out. Wolfie just laughs, and said that if he's the Sioux Falls Sissy, we're the Jersey Jerks!"

Everyone laughs, and Wolfie speaks up, wearing that smirk and offering his dry sense of humor.

"He's still a Jersey Jerk, you know?"

And they laugh again.

It was a good trip, sparking a lot of memories. Now, on to the next city, the next trip, the next book signing. Indianapolis? Orlando? Springfield? Oh, well. Plenty of time to worry about that tomorrow. For now, I think I'll put away the keyboard, turn off the overhead light, and relax my left arm toward that wonderful, open center seat. A rare moment of solitude and quiet relaxation, in the dim cabin lights of 30,000 feet.

Jan. 14, 2007 - A Memorable Chili Bowl

It was a blast at the Chili Bowl this past weekend, with Damion Gardner coming through with a popular and impressive win. I had a lot of fun working in the booth for the HBO Pay-Per-View broadcast of the event. It was a top-notch production, and I was amazed at the great lengths the production company, NeWave Video Productions, went to provide a dynamic presentation for the viewers.

The Chili Bowl is a great event, and there is an element of fun that comes with being there. However, the racing—and the racers—are intense, as it should be. With such intensity comes the soaring highs and grinding lows that inevitably are a part of any competition.

One difficult moment was seeing Bubba Altig slap the wall during hot-laps in the moments before the feature event on Saturday night. Bubba earned my respect last year when he won the Tuesday night pre-qualifier, then locked into the Saturday night field with a strong performance on his qualifying night. He had qualified for his second straight Chili Bowl this past Saturday night, only to see it vanish with one miscue that damaged his car before he could take the green flag.

In the moments after the crash, HBO pit reporter Rob Klepper asked Bubba if he would consent to a television interview. He declined, so Rob reported on the situation as our camera followed Bubba up the exit ramp toward his pit. Bubba left his helmet on, and his disappointment was obvious.

Some might criticize Rob in this situation, but he was simply doing his job. In fact, some may feel that television should “lay out” of a situation like this, but I disagree. If we want television coverage of our events—and we do, because it broadens our audience exponentially—then we have to accept that the audience wants to see both the highs and lows of the story. They want to see—and feel—the winner’s excitement, as well as the disappointment of those who didn’t fare as well. That’s the essence of sport. That’s why we watch; otherwise, the results are simply agate type in the newspaper.

You can’t just say, “Well, folks, we know so-and-so is disappointed, and we feel sorry for them, so we’re not going to give them the opportunity to talk to you.” That’s lame reporting, and nobody in the audience wants lame, weak reporting.

Actually, I think the situation was handled correctly on all sides. Rob had a duty to at least request an interview, and he did. Bubba didn’t feel like talking, so he declined, which is certainly acceptable. Finally, the broadcast related the story to the viewers, and captured the emotion of the moment.

I often feel that the media today — particularly the supermarket tabloids and the celebrity-driven news shows — go too far in their reporting, particularly when it comes to sensational topics. It’s my opinion that sports reporting should stick with the topics at hand, and not delve too deeply into personal matters. For example, if a prominent racer were going through a difficult divorce, I wouldn’t be interested in writing about it. As far as I’m concerned, that’s a private matter. However, if it happens on the race track, it’s the reporter’s job to cover it, even if it involves heartbreak like we saw on Saturday night.

Regardless, this weekend brought us another memorable edition of the Chili Bowl. I can hardly wait until next January!

Jan. 7, 2008 - Living For Tulsa Time

As this is written, I’m hunched over a desk completely covered with press releases, race reports, and statistics. My office looks like it’s been ransacked, and even the dog won’t come in because of the mess. I’m doing my homework for this weekend’s Chili Bowl Midget Nationals, where I will serve on the crew for the HBO Pay-Per-View broadcast, as well as assisting Bryan Gapinski with NSSN’s coverage of the event.

(I’m excited about being in the booth for the telecast, by the way…Ken Stout is our anchor, and I’ll be a color analyst alongside Larry Rice and Pat Sullivan, with Matt Yocum and Rob Klepper in the pits. Tom Gee is our producer, and I worked with Tom many times back in the old TNN days. Tom is an excellent producer as well as a good friend, and it will be a delight to hear his voice in my ear once again. Another old friend from the TNN era, Gary Clem, is directing, so it will be a bit like old home week!)

I’m always stressed out when I’m “cramming” for an assignment like this, because I feel like the clock is ticking and I can’t possibly do enough preparation. Unlike a story deadline, you’re never really “finished” with prep work. Once we get on-site the tension isn’t as great, because it all flows quickly from that point. But the days leading up to a big event like the Chili Bowl can be very stressful.

Being so busy in January reminds me again that our sport no longer has an off-season. I was fortunate to spend several days on a Florida beach with my family in the days following Christmas, but already it’s back to work, and it seems like I’m starting the year on full-blast wide-open.

I’ve met a number of people through the years who never seem to let this kind of stuff stress them out. I envy that, because the art of “letting go” is something I haven’t begun to master. I tend to let this stuff eat me up, and I feel overwhelmed. Yet I see others who stay calm and cool, no matter how overwhelming things seem.

The guy who was best at this was my friend Jack Hewitt. You’re down to your last dollar, the rent is due, you’re scheduled for two appearances at the same time tomorrow, the truck has a flat tire, and do you think Hewitt is worried? He most certainly is not. He just hums along, because he’s got the brilliant attitude that worrying doesn’t pay the rent, fix the schedule, or change the tire. It’s just wasted energy. Man, I envy that. If I could figure out how Jack manages to be so carefree, I’d immediately adopt the strategy for myself.

When Jack and I did a book together a few years ago, I recall a phone conversation when we were right down to the publishing deadline and things were quite stressful. A million details and the clock is ticking, you know? Well, I gave Jack an update on where we stood with everything, and then I said, “Now, Jack, don’t worry about any of this stuff, okay? I’ll handle it.” He quickly said, “Oh, I’m not doing any worrying at all…because I know you’ll do enough for both of us!”

He’s right, doggone it. And if there is one thing I hate, it’s when Hewitt is right, because he never lets you hear the end of it!

Are you coming to Tulsa? If so, make sure to say hello if our paths cross during the busy weekend. And, by the way, if it’s not too late…Happy New Year!