Yesterday’s Atlanta Cup race wasn’t much of a race, really. It has its moments, but overall it was single car domination from start to finish. There was, however, one remarkable aspect:
Which car did the dominating.
While his brother has been gathering wins and headlines by the basketful Kurt Busch has been threatening to become the forgotten champion. His talent won the Cup in 2004; his lack of talent when it came to keeping his mouth shut made him the only title winner this decade to have his team hold the door open for him as his went elsewhere. That elsewhere was Penske, where he was greeted with open firearms by Rusty Wallace’s legion of fans at the thought of this Vegas strip mall Gen X brat taking over for a retiring revered veteran. Making matters worse, he did so as Penske was in the midst of a lengthy stock car slump, the kind that lasts for years. Busch the elder entered this year not as one mentioned in the same sentence as other title contenders such as his brother. He wasn’t even in the same paragraph. Busch was relegated to “we’ll notice you if you wreck” status.
Won’t make that mistake again, now will we.
No one lucks into dominating any superspeedway, let alone a slippery ultra-high speed serpent such as Atlanta. It takes hundreds upon hundreds of hours back at the shop with everyone who so much as glances in the general direction of a car giving it all they have in a coordinated effort to first find and then keep for more than a handful of laps that ten-thousandth of a second faster than the other guys you need to gain and maintain the advantage. You also have to have a driver capable of seeking out that thin line of the track where the advantage comes to life and then keeping their car there no matter how many times the line wobbles dangerously close to disaster, as was evidenced yesterday by how Busch more than once demonstrated how he wanted Atlanta to paint its outer wall blue like Auto Club’s.
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Once upon a time I wrote a satirical post depicting Busch as the all-American boy, playing off of how he was in the midst of a massive media rehabilitation session while in the public eye was viewed with even less favor than that currently “enjoyed” by his younger brother. What was interesting yesterday was how what little crowd could be found at Atlanta was far more likely to raise an adult beverage to Busch in salute as he circled the track backwards than be tempted to toss said beverage’s aluminum container in his direction. Whether it was a case of appreciating someone who’s stuck to it and ground it out until they’re back in the game or “hey, at least it isn’t Kyle” can be debated. That duly noted, there is no denying Kurt Busch and his team are back in business. Add his name to the top tier.
It also warrants mention how on any other Sunday Jeff Gordon would have been hoisting the giant wrench in Victory Lane. Scripture says that wisdom is proved right by its children, and the offspring of Rick Hendrick’s decision last year to ignore the groundswell of cries about sending Steve Letarte packing (yes, I was one of the kvetchers) is bearing fruit. It helps in no small portion that Gordon himself has received and properly reacted to the message about what it takes to win in the present era. No one was going to catch Busch yesterday, but JG came closer than anyone else could have dreamed.
Too bad this next weekend is an off date for the Cupsters. Things are getting good.
