"Just because I saw Babe Ruth play doesn't make me smarter about baseball. It just makes me old." - Dad
(Regrettably, I totally missed the date today. Imagine that. Didn't notice it at all. Didn't write a check or date anything. What do you want from me? But thankfully, Riley7 reminded me with his blog. Initially this started as a response, but it kinda morphed and I figured it should get it's own space. Thanks Riles...)
Dale Earnhardt was my sports hero. Even that doesn't come close to describing the effect the man had on my life.
Many people who connect with Dale are kinda like him or can identify with him because there is a blue collar, working class connection there. That's not me or my background. My folks are New Englanders, liberals, academics. I was raised to be a long-haired tree-hugging artisan (which I remain, sans the long hair). But at the age of 12, when I fell absolutely in love with NASCAR racing, I saw this guy handle a car in a way I had never seen before.
***
It was 1979 and they were replaying the Sportsman 300 from Daytona [edit: Nationwide] , the race where Don Williams was so critically injured in a back stretch accident. In the race were a few Cup ringers, Bobby and Donnie Allison, Darrell Waltrip and some rookie in a blue and yellow Nova. There he was tucked tight in behind Bobby heading into the short chute between the tri-oval and turn 1 when Allison's motor totally blows. Like Ryan Newman at Michigan blows - BIG time. Earnhardt, a rookie, never flinches in the shower of smoke, fluid and parts, calmly wheels his car inside and handles the situation like a seasoned veteran.
You know, in the years that followed I was honored to see that man do a lot of things with a race car, the so-called "Pass In The Grass", winning with no power steering at Bristol, driving through multi-car wrecks as if guided by the hand of God himself, but that moment in Allison's slipstream remains a moment imprinted upon my memory with indelible ink.
I saw this potential early, EARLY on. I have been wrong about a lot of things in this life, but there are two things I knew the moment I saw them: The redhead in the corner would someday be my wife, and that Dale Earnhardt was going to be the best pure racer the motorsports world would ever see.
***
On the day he died, in retrospect, we all had to know something was cosmically amiss. I remember the whole Speedweeks clearly. There was the whole deal where he didn't want to show up for January practice so he made up this whole story about getting a piece of iron removed from his head. Remember that? Then there was Dale Junior talking about his "dream" about winning the Daytona 500. A reporter asked about his dad and where was he in this "dream" and Dale Jr. replied distantly, "He wasn't there." There was the 24 hour race with the incredible sunrise and the in-car, passenger seat camera footage of him piloting the Corvette for a full lap without any commentary, just him in his office with his open faced helmet working the wheel and gearbox. Like watching Hendrix. The whole of Speedweeks where for the first time in forever he didn't win anything. No 125, no Shootout, not even the IROC race. I was there that day with Jeremy, my son. Dale had blown a late restart the day before in the 125s and we stuck around another day for the trucks and the IROC race. He pulls a move going into turn 1 where he gets shoved down to the apron, into the grass and saves it by turning into the slide. Amazing.
In many ways, I think that the fact that he successfully pulled off that move on Friday gave him the false confidence to try it again at the other end of the track the Sunday of the 500.
On race day, he makes this stoic stroll down pit lane. He kisses her, and then pauses and returns for a second kiss. it is goodbye....
I was at home, not having tickets for the big race. The words from Mike Joy are "And it's the final lap...."
He doesn't realize the prophetic nature of his words...
Fox missed something vital on that final lap. They cut away just as Sr. gets a run off of turn 2 onto the backstretch and closes on Jr.s bumper. You don't see the bump draft, the final send off to his son. If I were ever to meet Dale Jr. in an intimate setting where I could ask such a thing, I would ask about that bump. Like a father patting his son on the bottom as he heads off to school. Ultimately, this bump leads to Sr's demise, as his car's momentum is slowed as a result and his opponents split him left and right heading into turn three.
The "opponents". They read like a who's who of drivers Dale has done wrong on the track over the years. Marlin. Schrrader. Wallace. The latter was the problem as his moving into the middle took the final bit of air off of Earnhardt's spoiler and send him into the fatal crash. Not that it was deliberate or anything; just cosmic. In the final analysis, if Earnhardt had just spun the car out to the left instead of trying to save it, he may very well still be with us today. But that wasn't Dale. He trusted in his abilities all the way to the end.
I remember the interview with Schrader afterward. That didn't sound good. But remarkably the sign I knew something was wrong with the universe was victory lane. There's an overjoyed Michael Waltrip living his pure, short-lived moment of glory. During the interview, a piece of confetti lands smack dab in the middle of his forehead. It's almost comical if not for the warnings pounding in my head about the urgency of the rescue workers I saw before they cut away. It was as if Dale Sr, in is parting, had decided to plant one last practical joke on his buddy.
That piece of confetti, to me, will always be Dale waving goodbye.
***
I pounded Jayski, CNN and MSNBC over the following 2 and a half hours. Refresh. F5. Reload. Finally, the "breaking News" title on MSNBC's page fills in with the simple phrase "Earnhardt Dies at Daytona".
I'll never forget that.
We all cried that night. Me, my wife, my son. I couldn't go into work the next day. For weeks I kept looking for his car instinctively, on pit road, on restarts, I think that went on for months.
***
You know, my racing friends today think they can "get" me by pulling my chain about Kyle Busch. That's cool. Because no matter what happens this season, no matter what the M&M's #18 does on the track and no matter what Kyle does off of it, it really is like a coda to me. It matters, but it really doesn't. My real passion as a fan of a driver left the track in an ambulance 9 years ago today, never to return. In comparison, Kyle is just something to fill part of the space. Kinda.
The man was confident bordering on cocky. At age 12, that wasn't me. He rocked the establishment. At age 12, that wasn't me. He was brave. At age 12, that wasn't me. But ultimately, I became a person who is confident, courageous when called upon and trusting of my instincts. To a large extent it is because of Dale Earnhardt.
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Comments
Leave a CommentCheckeredFlagStilettos
posted at 23:17 PM February 18
Beautifully written..thank you so much for sharing this with us.
Riley7
posted at 23:22 PM February 18
Great Blog. It's obvious your write from the heart on this particular subject.....maybe the best stuff I've read from you so far. A lot of the "paid" media could take lessons from you, X. Thanks for sharing a part of yourself here.
mrgoldcoast2u
posted at 23:25 PM February 18
Thank you.
ddc57201
posted at 07:12 AM February 19
Thanks X. That was beautiful.
archidude
posted at 08:36 AM February 19
dang.
SubmarineMike
posted at 08:42 AM February 19
Well done Racer X. I LOVE the screen name by the way LOL
RickyMast
posted at 09:26 AM February 19
Awesome blog man
Jr. Cracker
posted at 09:44 AM February 19
Nothing to add. Thanks.
JeffInRoswell
posted at 11:10 AM February 19
Cutler, we have a winner! Top of the list in the Rowdy Blog Hall of Fame...
Art Tidesco
posted at 13:48 PM February 19
Thanks for your memories Racer X a great tribute to the man in black :-)