Martinsville, where eight boys were trying to lock themselves into the final field of four contenders for the championship in Homestead. At the same time, 31 boys and a girl were doing their utmost to spoil the party for someone by winning the thing themselves.
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.
While we continue to yearn for announcers who captivate us with their voices, delivery, dialogue, banter, information, or entertainment value, it does not matter this Saturday night. This time, the track will take care of all that itself.
Loudon, New Hampshire is where they hand out a lobster to the winner. Okay, it is not as cool as Dover's Miles the Monster trophy, with a diecast of the winning car held aloft in its mighty hand. No grandfather clock like they award at Martinsville, or the six-shooters of Texas, and that sweet Les Paul guitar for races in Nashville. On the positive side, you can not eat any of those other awards.
Some things are just not like the others. May featured the World 600 and the All-Star race at Charlotte, the spring derby at Talladega, events a fellow can get excited about. This week. Dover.
Back in 1949, Martinsville was a dirt track. Fifteen cars started the 100 lap event in the opening year of what was to become the Cup series. Red Byron won it in a 1949 Oldsmobile. A brand new car. In those days, there was little modifications done in the strictly stock division.
The ratings are in. They continue to sink, with anything not being raced at Daytona all down. Daytona was great, the rest were okay. There used to be a time when okay was good enough.
Kyle Larson went back to his home state of California and won at Fontana. A win. Now, I’ll be the first to admit that the 24-year old from Elk Grove is not perfect. Sure, he might be leading the standings, but perfection?
It would appear I got up on the wrong side of the bed again. Maybe I simply am becoming an old cantankerous SOB. Maybe I’m already there. If I were a muppet, I probably would have a seat in the balcony, if you know what I mean. Is it my fault things just seem to tick me off?
