Back in 1927, the Bristol Sessions marked what some call the “Big Bang” moment of country music. I bet you thought the city on the Tennessee-Virginia border was all about racing. Well, for a time over the past couple of days, it was. Here and there, at least.
Texas. That may have been the worst NASCAR race I ever watched. If not, I hope I never remember a worse one. Indianapolis in 2008 might challenge it, but that was due to having to throw out a caution every 10 laps to prevent the damn tires from exploding.
If you are going to watch ‘em race in Texas, you better have a PVR in your hand. My God, that was boring. I mean, with more than half the field lapped in the opening segment and more than 12 seconds between first and second, we were sure not talking about racing wheel to wheel.
A week off with no races to forecast or summarize. Funny, I did not get the shakes or suffer any other negative reactions. That probably is not a good thing for NASCAR.
Excitement, thy name is sure not Fontana. Not usually. There is a reason the idea to bring the Cup folks out to the Auto Club Speedway was abandoned after just seven seasons. It is bad enough to be a yawner on television, but when that is the perception live and in person, you have got a problem.
NASCAR can really tick me off, and the use of “tick” was not my first choice. Yet, every year I seem to get that itch, one that I had already scratched raw the year before, and every year I return. Why? Well, there seems to be a few things about NASCAR that I really, really like as well.
Thirty-six races. A few are great venues that produce very entertaining television events. A lot more are not. Some tracks have two events, and you wonder why. Some have two and you wonder...why not three?
Imagine a race that featured the excitement of Daytona or Bristol. Imagine a race with a broadcast crew that featured the talent of a Chris Economaki, Vin Scully, Danny Gallivan, or a Keith Jackson. Imagine that Yoko Ono co-wrote that song with her husband. That should snap us all back to reality, though that last one is apparently true.
When one of the legends in the sport leaves us, we remember. If a man is known simply by the company he keeps, Robert Yates did very well. As a team owner, he was the boss to such NASCAR luminaries as Davey Allison, Larry McReynolds, Ernie Irvan, Dale Jarrett, and Ricky Rudd.
With the Southern 500 coming our way from Darlington this weekend, it seems like a good time to talk about tradition. The first one in the books was back in 1950, making it the oldest of the sport’s iconic events. Most of the time, it goes to someone who is in or will be in, the Hall of Fame. That number will only grow once Jeff Gordon and Jimmie Johnson get in, along with a few other contenders I can think of.