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?
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.
One day they are going to make that movie. It will feature a young Dale Earnhardt Jr. growing up in the shadow of his legendary father. We will see his daddy’s pride as his namesake begins his racing career. That first Tier II win at Texas in 1998. The two Tier II titles that came that year, and the next.
Enough with the contrived fake news. No, I am not talking about folks who think their candidate was robbed for being of a certain gender, or obviously the victim of the actions of a foreign power, or that they lost to someone who just has to be Darth Vader incarnate.
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.
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?
I like being nice. Sure, I can bitch with the best of them, but it is nice when one can say nice things about someone. For instance, I think NASCAR did the right thing by calling the race at Texas last week. Let me see, the race was already delayed by five hours and the skies really opened up with 40 to go. Damn right they should have wrapped things up when they did.
It was the Chase race in Texas, and the big winner...was the weather. From an afternoon event on a rubbered up track, we went to an evening contest under the lights. A rain washed surface greeted the boys and girl after a more than five-hour delay.
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?
