March 31, 2008 - Curtailed TV Viewing

I spent a few hours this weekend in front of the TV, watching the second round of the NCAA Men’s basketball tournament. “March Madness” as it is widely known, is an annual ritual followed by tens of millions of Americans.

It’s strange, but I didn’t watch one minute of racing this weekend. I don’t normally spend much time in front of the tube anyway, as it seems I’m always either working or doing something else. Sitcoms don’t appeal, and I haven’t been “captured” by any of today’s dramas. There was a time when I was a faithful viewer of shows such as “Hill Street Blues,” St. Elsewhere,” “L.A. Law,” and “Thirtysomething,” but I guess I haven’t found any contemporary shows with the strong appeal of those from a few years ago.

Some people have expressed surprise when they learn how little racing I watch on TV. Everybody is different, I guess, and the idea of watching hours of racing on television just doesn’t sound all that exciting. In my case, I attend anywhere from 60 to 100 racing events each year, and that’s enough to satisfy my hunger. If I also spent a lot of time watching on TV, I would burn out for sure. Plus, to be completely honest, most televised races lack a sense of urgency, which I think makes it easy to walk away or turn the channel. When I turn on a race, many times I feel like, “Gee, I’ve seen this before.” Yet, when I’m there in person, I almost never have that feeling.

Maybe it’s time we consider the idea that there might be too many races on television; they are too long; and there is not enough conflict or rivalry being played out. No, I’m not talking about remaking our sport in the mold of professional wrestling; the fact is, we don’t have to. Racing has plenty of natural conflict, so we don’t have to invent anything. Just do a better job revealing the stories of the people competing, allow the viewers to get to know them, and let the viewers choose sides. When you choose sides and have a rooting interest, all of a sudden the contest—and the telecast—is much more compelling.

The March Madness tournament on CBS certainly is compelling. They do a great job telling us about the players, coaches, tactics and strategy, and pretty soon we’re cheering for one side or the other. Plus, millions of us fill out a tournament bracket, and we follow along carefully to see how our picks are doing. Once you get people involved, getting them to watch is infinitely easier.

Then again, it’s far easier to broadcast a basketball game. Everything is played out on that 90-foot court, and on the adjacent sidelines. The scene is narrowly focused on a relatively small place. Racing, on the other hand, is far more difficult to capture through the lens. You can’t see the driver’s faces as they race, and it’s challenging to give the viewer a compelling perspective of what is happening, primarily because it’s hard to narrow a very wide range of space into the small television window. That’s why the development of the in-car camera was so important some years ago, because it provided the viewer with a much better view of exactly what was going on.

One other thing I find interesting—and ironic—is the commentator lineup on the CBS broadcast. In racing, particularly short track racing, there is a strong philosophy that we have to have young on-air talent to attract a younger audience. The belief is, I suppose, that we’re trying to attract a young audience. However, look at some of the on-air talent with the March Madness broadcast: Billy Packer, Verne Lundquist, and Dick Enberg, for example, are seasoned veterans well into their 60s and 70s. Yet, this broadcast pulls big, big ratings. BIG ratings. That whole theory of needing “young” talent is a bunch of hogwash, I think, because I have long felt that the age of the talent is the least important element. I want knowledge, I want style, and I want somebody whom I feel like is talking to me directly like a friend, not trying to impress or upstage me with their knowledge.

One more weekend, and March Madness is over. Perfect timing: Eldora opens with the USAC sprint cars this weekend. It’s time to shut the TV off, anyways. Let’s go racing!

March 24, 2008 - Column Hit Mark

A couple of weeks ago I wrote a column in NSSN about a lifelong friend of mine, Harry Hemme, who recently passed away, and his young son who is confined to a wheelchair after an accident several years ago. Chase Hemme is now 15, and his family is trying to raise money for bathroom fixtures and remodeling to allow him a handicap-access shower.

The response to that column has been overwhelming. The tangible response has been a number of contributions sent to a college group in Muncie, Indiana which is providing the labor for the construction. There has also been plenty of less measurable feedback via phone calls, e-mails, and comments I received at a racing gathering this past Saturday in Columbus, Indiana.

That kind of feedback is very gratifying for any columnist, because it’s an indication that you have connected with your readers. Even the most confident, seasoned writer sometimes wonders if anyone out there is actually reading; on the flip side, when you get strong, positive feedback it’s like somebody pinned a big blue ribbon on your chest.

I hesitated before I wrote that column, because I don’t want to use my voice and space in NSSN strictly as a fund-raiser. Yes, this was a worthy cause; yes, most of us feel good when we can reach out and help others less fortunate; yes, even the smallest help will benefit this young man. But I spent several hours debating on whether to write the column or not.

There are two major concerns about writing such a column.

The first concern is the reality that every minute of every day in every city, there are people who desperately need help. There is more need in this world than you and I can ever meet. If I somehow discovered a consistent ability to raise money for charitable causes via my column, my phone would be buzzing with people asking for help. How do you decide when to say yes and when to say no?

The second concern is falling into a rut. The key to success in any type of writing—and I mean ANY type of writing—is to be fresh and different. Any “formula” is the kiss of death, because pretty soon readers get through the first two paragraphs and wonder, “Haven’t I read this before?” Then they turn the page. If I was constantly telling a story of somebody less fortunate who needs their help, after a while readers would skip right over my column. Not because they don’t want to help; but because the writing would seem dull and familiar.

In this case I chose to go ahead and write the column because Chase’s father was a friend of mine, and the dilemma of his son was very real to me. That’s the simple reason, but frankly it wasn’t the real reason I wrote it. The fact is, the story of Harry and Chase was rumbling in my belly, bursting to get out. It’s the fire every writer feels at one time or another; you tell the story because you must. It’s as simple as that.

People often ask me how long it takes to write a column. I tell them it usually takes a long time to write a bad column, and a short time to write a good one. Because a good column springs not from your brain, but from your gut. It’s usually just a matter of getting to a keyboard and letting the words take off. But a bad column, where you don’t have particularly strong feelings about the subject and you’re struggling to put your thoughts into words, those are sometimes a marathon in frustration.

In this case, I debated in my mind that afternoon, and tried to think of other things that evening. That night I tossed and turned until 1 a.m., then quietly arose from bed to walk down the hall to my office. The story was nagging at me, chasing away sleep. I sat down in the chair and things just took off, and in less than 30 minutes everything was finished. I took a quick glance and decided to read it again in the morning, then went back to bed.

This time sleep came easy; my mind was now rested. The story had been told, and I didn’t have to hold it in any more. That’s a good feeling.

March 17, 2008 - Welcome Back

One of my favorite racing venues is the Terre Haute Action Track in Indiana, and the ol’ girl’s fortunes are finally looking up.

The success or failure of any track rests in the hands of the promoter, and over the past couple of years the Action Track was in shaky hands. Suffice to say that things weren’t going well for the track, leading to the—possibly unprecedented?—extreme situation of USAC actually ending their relationship with the track due to a disastrous race last May.

But the local fair board finally came to their senses, looking to a couple of local guys to lead the track back from the brink of extinction. The announcement was made a few weeks ago, and already DHK Promotions is busily preparing for the 2008 season. DKH consists of local baseball star Brian Dorsett; longtime Indy 500 radio voice Mike King; and well-known racer and promoter Davey Hamilton. Dorsett and King are both longtime residents of Terre Haute, and both are steadfast boosters of the local community.

The first race is only six weeks away, so things are in high gear to prepare the famous half-mile track and facilities. Mike King and I exchanged e-mails this weekend, and he informed me that they’ve moved a bunch of clay to enhance the surface, and the grounds are just now thawed, with hopes that legendary dirt tracker Bubby Jones can soon begin his work to help prepare the racing surface.

A year ago I was almost resigned to the very real possibility that the Action Track was dead. But today I have a renewed sense of enthusiasm, because I know both King and Hamilton very well, and both men have their heart in the right place on this one. They both recognize that the Action Track holds a rich, vibrant racing history, and it would be a shame to let such a rich legacy simply slip away. My prediction is that this will begin a bright new era for the Action Track, perhaps rivaling the great years under former promoter Don Smith, one of the most delightful men I’ve ever known.

In fact, the May 2 date will be the Don Smith Classic presented by Indiana State University, featuring the Midwest Sprint Car Series. It will be great to see the track honor Don, who remains a prominent and beloved fixture in the city of Terre Haute. The track has joined a number of progressive racing venues offering advance tickets via their website, www.theactiontrack.com.

Even though it’s still cold and wintry here in Indiana, I can close my eyes and picture the scene on May 2. Interstate 70 west toward Terre Haute, looking for Exit 7. Left at the bottom of the ramp, fighting the bumper-to-bumper traffic of U.S. 41, but only for a minute or two. As you clear much of the congestion you can see the Action Track on the left, and as you signal and move to the apron your heart rate begins to pick up. You find a place to park, buy your ticket, and look out across that historic infield. You see the sweeping half-mile track at your feet, and you remember that racing here dates back to 1952, featuring nearly every great open wheel driver for more than four decades.

It makes my day, just saying the words: The Action Track is back!

March 10, 2008 - Tough Times For Goodyear

No doubt you’ve heard Tony Stewart’s scathing remarks about Goodyear’s tires at Atlanta’s Nextel Cup event yesterday. Stewart will probably wind up in the NASCAR office for an old-fashioned butt-chewing over his comments, because Goodyear is a significant sponsor to the organization and if there is one thing the folks in Daytona Beach have made a priority, it’s taking care of their sponsors.

The episode illustrates the challenge in building race tires, even in an exclusive arrangement like Goodyear has in Nextel Cup. It’s a delicate balance between speed and wear rates; harder tires wear much better, but make the car much slower and more difficult to drive. Softer tires make the car stick vastly better, and drivers tend to love a car that’s stuck to the race track.

Some might think this is all about quality problems, but that’s not what the drivers are complaining about. The tires are simply too hard, they say, and they spent a desperate afternoon at Atlanta hanging on to a treacherous race car.

The complaints of the drivers isn’t the most important issue in play here. No, the most important issue is this: Hard tires make it almost impossible for these cars to race side-by-side. Frankly, that’s the real problem. (Remember this: if you have to choose between making drivers happy and making fans happy, make the fans happy. It’s much easier to find more drivers.) Goodyear has to find a tire that allows the cars to race side-by-side, because that has long been the hallmark of stock car racing. The customers aren’t interested in anything less.

The reason this is particularly vexing this year, I’m guessing, is that the new car (Car of Tomorrow? Today? What’s the official name?) provides a lot less downforce, putting more emphasis on the tires for grip. Give these guys some time, however, and they’ll figure it out. Race engineers always do.

In the meantime, if I were Stewart, I wouldn’t accept an invitation to take a ride in the Goodyear blimp. Not without a parachute, anyway.

March 3, 2008 - Back Into The Light

My eyes are just now getting back to normal, after three straight weeks of being locked onto little letters on a computer screen.

I was editing and proofing a new book written by Pat Sullivan called “Brick by Brick,” which chronicles the life of pioneering African American racer, the late Joie Ray. Pat did all the heavy lifting in terms of research, interviewing, and writing the manuscript, and I agreed to prepare the book for production and printing.

If you’ve never done such a chore, count yourself lucky. This is the seventh book in which I’ve been involved in the production (the other six I wrote), and the layout/proofreading phase is by far the least enjoyable. You pore over the text time after time, looking for typos, misspellings, etc., spending unending hours in the process. It is dull, tedious work, but it’s an integral part of the publishing process. For example, with Joie’s book I went through the text—about 200 pages in final form—about 20 times. Several times in the editing phase; several more times during the layout phase; a few more times before the PDF file is generated for production; then you go over each page of the PDF before submitting it to the printer; finally, you proofread—at least twice—the printed proofs from the printer. Plus, a couple of other people have proofed the manuscript several times at various points of production.

The kicker is that after you do all this work—in this case it involved about 150 hours of production time—once the book is out on the streets you have to brace yourself for criticism when people find mistakes and typos.

It is amazing to me that people don’t understand how much it hurts to have people point out mistakes in your work. For people who don’t know the author or publisher, it’s no big deal. They can point to a gaffe and offer the appropriate ridicule, and the author never hears it. However, sometimes people approach me—and these are friends and people who are quite pleasant and friendly—and the first thing out of their mouth is, “Oh, Dave, loved the book…but did you know you misspelled ‘motorhome’ on page 27? Also, Joe Jones won the 1937 title in a championship car, not a sprint car…”

Hey, I realize that when you put your work out there for public consumption, criticism is part of the deal. No problem. But it’s difficult to understand how people take such pleasure in immediately pointing out flaws, and making that the primary topic of conversation. For example, the book I wrote with Chris Economaki—“Let ‘Em All Go!”—contains approximately 137,000 words. I’m aware of maybe a dozen typos or minor mistakes in the text; you strive for perfection but despite all your efforts, small stuff gets past. Yet for some people—it’s a small faction, thankfully—their focus is not on all the things you got right, but the things you got wrong.

My friend “Speedy” Bill Smith (of Speedway Motors in Lincoln, Nebraska) says that’s just the way humans are wired. Speedy is a keen observer of the human race, and I think he’s right on this. For example, if you get 20 letters of praise for your new book, and one letter telling you it’s a piece of junk, which affects you the most? That’s right, the critical letter. We can easily dismiss the praise then allow the criticism to fester inside us. Hard to figure out why, but that’s just how we’re put together.

That’s why I wouldn’t be a good critic; I know too much about how hard it is to create good work. However, I do have little patience when I see work that’s thrown together. You can tell within a minute or two how much effort (and skill) went into the production of a book. Obvious errors and typos jump off every page, and the whole thing just seems schlocky. I can overlook a couple of typos here and there, but too many and it’s a distraction. I guess it’s because if you’ve had some experience in this process, you know it doesn’t have to be that way.

So now I’ve sent Pat’s book to the printer. I can actually go outside again, and see sunshine! Just in time for spring…