July 30, 2008 - Smoke And Fire

Lots of people have asked me about Tony Stewart’s confrontation last Thursday (July 24) with a couple of USAC officials at O’Reilly Raceway Park in Indianapolis.

I was sitting in the press room on that fateful evening, and, yes, I saw the situation unfold. I saw Tracy Hines’s car come to a stop at his pit under caution, and I saw his crew feverishly working on his car, apparently trying to change a right rear tire.

At the time I figured they were in trouble, because the race was going to restart very quickly. Plus, the car was in their pit and not in the designated “inspection area” from which cars rejoining the race are pushed. There was lots of chaos and motioning by the crew, looking for a push truck, but none was there. At the last moment the crew began physically pushing the car toward the inspection area, either to get Tracy in place to be pushed, or maybe trying to fire the car themselves. Either way, the USAC official standing nearby evidently told them it was too late.

I didn’t attend the driver’s meeting, so I don’t know what the exact procedure is in that situation. But in the past—and this is based on my casual observance and certainly is not official — USAC has required cars to be in the inspection area before being allowed to re-fire.

It was one of those weird moments where a large group of people were watching something unfold at the same time. We saw Stewart charge into the group of people, and he was clearly upset. However, I didn’t realize he was angry at an official; I thought he was agitated at a crew member. Both the USAC officials and the TSR crew wear red shirts, and it took a moment to realize that it was indeed an official on the receiving end of Stewart’s displeasure. At first, I thought Tony threw something on the ground, but then it became evident it was the official’s headset.

Stewart began to walk away, when another official arrived on the scene. There was a brief exchange, and Stewart obviously pushed the man out of his way.

While this was happening, it was interesting to listen to the crowd’s reaction. Some cheered, some booed, but most just seemed to be surprised by what they had seen. Kind of like, “Did I really see what I think I saw?”

For the rest of the evening, there was a great deal of speculation on USAC’s reaction. This really is a lightning-rod issue, because nearly every team on the USAC grid—and the World of Outlaws sprint car grid, as well—is convinced that race officials give the Stewart and Kasey Kahne teams special consideration. Is that true? I don’t know, but in this case, perception is reality. I can tell you, most competitors at ORP simply rolled their eyes and predicted that USAC wouldn’t do anything at all.

To their credit, I think USAC handled the situation properly. Stewart’s $10,000 fine was appropriate, reflecting the gravity of the offense. If he had punched an official, well, that’s a completely different scenario. But he didn’t. Yes, it was serious; writing a check for $10,000 is serious, too. It was a confrontation that should not have happened, and the guilty party was punished. That’s exactly how the situation has to be handled.

Some feel that Stewart’s fine was woefully cheap; after all, they say, 10 grand is pocket change for ol’ Smoke. But you have to create a precedent you can live with for a long time; sometime down the road there will be a similar situation, and maybe the guilty party will be a poor boy. If you fine Stewart $100,000, shouldn’t the next guy be fined the same amount? The idea of levying financial penalties based on someone’s ability to pay is a slippery slope, and my guess is that USAC was smart enough to know not to go there.

I’ve seen lots of racers and crew members lose their cool in the heat of the moment. Is it right? No, but it’s human. This is an emotional, high-stakes competitive sport, and it brings out some very basic human instincts. Just because a guy shoves an official doesn’t make him a monster, not by a long shot.

That said, you cannot—repeat, cannot—allow competitors to physically contact an official in the heat of the moment. If there is one area of racing that should be zero tolerance, this is it. Obviously, you can’t punch, shove or kick an official; but you also cannot have any physical contact of any kind. Other sports are the same way; you can yell and scream at the referee or umpire, and that’s no problem (other than maybe getting tossed for the evening). However, the instant you touch the guy — brush him with your arms, bump him with your chest, whatever—you have escalated the situation dramatically, and you can expect a significant penalty. No matter who you are.

Just another exciting night at the races…

July 21, 2008 - A Busy Sprint Week

Indiana Sprint Week is complete for 2008, and like most people I breathed a sigh of relief on Sunday morning. I had a great time this year, and I can hardly wait till the ’09 edition pushes off; however, I’ll admit that eight races in 11 days is a bit of a grind, particularly when you factor in the driving to and from the event.

For example, I got home from Tri-State Speedway around 3 a.m. Sunday; about 13 hours after I left home on Saturday afternoon. The day previous, I left for Bloomington Speedway at 2:30 p.m., and got home around 1 a.m. Saturday morning. Ditto the previous day at Kamp Motor Speedway. I don’t have the luxury of camping on site (I’m chained to the keyboard and telephone during the day), and I can’t justify the expense of hotel rooms. So I have little choice but to ride back and forth each night.

I missed the ISW opener at Lawrenceburg, because I drove to Lima, Ohio for the Brad Doty Classic. Brad is a good friend, and each year I attend his race to show my support. Plus, this year’s race truly was a classic, with a thrilling race that saw Jason Meyers nip Steve Kinser at the finish line for the win. That makes three straight years I’ve seen a highly-entertaining race at Lima. I’ll plan on going every year if this keeps up.

The following night I picked up the ISW trail for Lawrenceburg’s second night, and followed it through to the end. Personally, I enjoyed every race, particularly the incredible race at Kokomo Speedway this past Sunday. Wow! The cover photo of last week’s NSSN (7/16) said it all.

This part of the summer can be a bit demanding. Just as I catch my breath from Sprint Week, I’m looking at four straight nights of racing later this week. Terre Haute on Wednesday (USAC Silver Crown), O’Reilly Raceway Park on Thursday (USAC Silver Crown and midgets); and Anderson Speedway on Friday and Saturday (the inaugural Anderson Midget 400).

Right around the corner is the Knoxville Nationals, which means five straight nights of racing when you include the Front Row Challenge at Oskaloosa on Tuesday night.

I find myself doing a balancing act during a busy stretch such as this. As much as I love racing, I get a bit irritable after long days and short nights, and I crave a few days off to relax and recharge. It seems that when you’re constantly hauling up and down the highway, with night after night of racing, life tends to become chaotic and jumbled. Sometimes I actually look forward to the winter (which is hard to admit) because life slows down and I can actually get into a “normal” routine.

That’s why I greatly admire competitors and officials (and media members) who follow a traveling series. The World of Outlaws, for example. How those folks maintain their sanity after months on the road is a mystery to me. In all honesty I’m not sure I’m capable of spending more than half of the year away from home. Another tremendous grind is the UMP late model Summer Nationals, which this year featured 27 races in 31 days. Amazing!

My greatest challenge during such busy periods is remaining productive at the keyboard. I find myself falling behind, because my working time is greatly reduced. On a typical day I’m at the keyboard at 10 a.m. (I like to go to the gym in the morning), take a short break for lunch, and back at it until 6 or 7 p.m. But when I’m leaving home each day at 2 p.m., obviously that’s really cutting into my work day. Plus, it’s difficult to get into the rhythm of writing when you know your day is going to be short. Some people can write in tiny bites of 10 to 20 minutes at a time, but I have a hard time with that. I guess I work better when I’ve cleared out a longer block of time.

Being so busy makes it seem that time is really rushing past. Here it is July 21; it truly seems like just a couple of weeks ago that I was standing on pit lane on the morning of the Indianapolis 500. Yet that was nearly two months ago! If you look forward that same span of time, it will be late September. Boy, that doesn’t seem possible.

But I love it. At least I think I love it. Either that, or I just don’t know any better. Regardless, the end result is the same: I’ll see you at the races.

July 14, 2008 - Author, Author?

“Why do you write books?”

That was the question, posed on a hot afternoon at Eldora Speedway. It was a book signing alongside Doug Wolfgang, promoting his autobiography, “Lone Wolf,” which Wolfie and I co-wrote. The summer sun was punishing the Ohio landscape, hours before the 25th Kings Royal would be pushing off.

(A torrential rain arrived at around 7:30 p.m. that evening, forcing the postponement of the event until the following night, when Daryn Pittman became a first-time Kings Royal winner.)

The line had dwindled a bit, and when that happens people are more likely to pause to chat. When others are waiting in line, most people move through quickly, proving the basic human instinct is to be considerate of others. But when there is less urgency, people seem to feel comfortable taking time offer questions or comments, providing the most enjoyable form of reader feedback in the world. Honest, frank reviews of your work, usually offered with heartfelt enthusiasm.

But this fellow, a typically devout race fan decked out in his freshly-purchased Kings Royal t-shirt, asked me a question I couldn’t readily answer.

“Why do I write books?” I said, offering the question back to him as my mind searched for an adequate reply. But as much as I tried, I couldn’t answer his question. I offered some kind of humorous response, and we laughed. In a moment or two he was gone, swallowed into a sea of white racing shirts made gray by the sweat of a hot summer day.

On the way home that night, driving across the Ohio countryside as my windshield wipers beat a steady rhythm and lightning flashed to the south, I turned the radio off and thought about the man’s question.

I could offer the usual artistic explanation of using the book form to express my creativity, but that’s not really the reason I began writing books. It was more of a financial consideration, because when I decided to become a full-time writer in 1998, I figured books might offer an additional revenue opportunity. In time, it’s proven correct; to make it as a full-time self-employed writer you’ve got to have a lot of different irons in the fire.

Ten years and six books later, I realize now that financial concerns are only a tiny element in the discussion. My motivation for writing books is much more complex than that and infinitely more rewarding.

To begin with, I’ve had the privilege to spend countless hours with Brad Doty, Jack Hewitt, Earl Baltes, Chris Economaki, and Doug Wolfgang. Fascinating people, all, and doing a book with each allowed me a level of access that a short article never could have provided. In the process I forged friendships that will last to the end of our lives. What’s the value of a friendship? I don’t know, but it is vastly more than mere money.

Another key element is that in writing a book, you take on an immense project in which you are the navigator, the captain, and the host. It’s completely upon you to figure out how to interview, transcribe, write, edit, re-write, re-write, and re-write until the story is right. Yes, it’s daunting, but when you can successfully pull it all together, there is a tremendous sense of accomplishment and satisfaction. It’s like a drug; once you’ve experienced the “high” of opening a box and finding a book you wrote and produced, something inside you drives you do it again and again and again.

Most of all, though, the reason I write books is because of the connection with the reader. When someone tells you, “I couldn’t put it down,” there is a satisfaction that can’t be explained. You know you’ve entertained, informed, and—just maybe—inspired, and there is no greater feeling for a writer than that.

Still, even after two hours of rainy contemplation on the way home from Eldora Speedway, I don’t know if I can properly articulate an answer for the man’s question.

Why do I write books? Because that’s what I do. For better or worse, that’s just how it is. And I’m not complaining.

July 7, 2008 - Making A Counterpoint

I’ve taken some good-natured ribbing from a number of friends over the past couple of weeks based on a couple of recent “Public Forum” letters. Several readers were critical of my column in late May, which discussed Danica Patrick and the impossible position any male driver faces when there is any kind of confrontation with a female driver.

“You’re a male chauvinist pig!” a couple have laughed, referring to one reader who said I was a chauvinist who couldn’t deal with a woman competing on a level playing field.

The truth is, you’d have a hard time finding anyone more open to diversity in racing than I am. I hold strong and passionate beliefs that nobody should be held back from pursuing their dreams simply because of their color, gender, age, nationality, whatever. It is only a matter of time before a woman becomes a champion racer, and when that happens I think it’s a great thing not just for our sport, but for our society.

(Let me qualify one point regarding the previous paragraph…I’m not a fan of anyone under 16 years old competing against adults in a full-scale race car. Cars with limited horsepower — Legends cars, Kenyon midgets, etc. — are fine, but full-scale sprint cars or late models are not. Nothing against a 15-year-old; it’s just that the sport is exposed to enormous and untenable risk should a youngster be hurt badly or killed in a grown-up car.)

But such is the world of the columnist. You put down your thoughts the best you can, without any guarantee that the reader will grasp your true feeling or point. Sometimes you don’t write it correctly; other times, readers are so emotional they see things that aren’t there.

That’s how it is with Danica, it seems. She has cultivated a strong and passionate following, and her fans are very loyal. Like all loyal fans, they are extremely sensitive to criticism of their driver. Thus, when you write something even remotely critical, her fans—like almost all fans—sometimes miss the forest for the trees.

If the roles at Indianapolis a few weeks ago had been reversed—if Danica had bumped Ryan Briscoe and he was hopping mad, trying to get to her pit—the point would be the same: There is no way a male driver can win in a confrontation with a female. No way.

I wasn’t critical of Danica’s anger; that’s a natural part of racing, and racers. Everybody handles it differently.

When I wrote that column, I figured it would create some feedback. That’s not why I wrote it; but right now Danica is something of a lightning rod character, and everybody seems to have strong feelings, one way or the other. It’s difficult to take any kind of position with a subject that controversial and not ruffle some feathers.

I will say this; for each of the letters we received here at NSSN, I directly received a dozen phone calls or notes from people who agreed with what I wrote.

But either way, I’m not complaining. I don’t mind criticism of my work. It’s a part of the job, and there’s no use trying to avoid it. You develop a thick skin, and try to let the criticism slide past without leaving a mark.

It’s funny how we humans are wired. If somebody is critical, deep in your mind you dismiss their words. But when somebody praises, you think, “Gee, that guy knows what he’s talking about!”

Sometimes, just getting feedback is great, even when it’s critical. Often you toil away in a lonely silence, wondering if anyone is reading. Like the comic, who taps the microphone as the audience squirms restlessly. “Hello? Is this thing on?” When you get feedback, even if it’s critical, it’s reaffirms not only that people are reading, but they believe your work is credible enough to take the trouble to comment.

Whether you agree or disagree, my bottom-line feeling is the same: Thanks for reading National Speed Sport News!