Not Inclined To Make Nice

Yesterday, I tried as best I could to find some humorous way of recapping this past Sunday’s Sprint Cup race at Talladega.  After all, that’s my stock in trade.  Bring the funny.  It’s what I do.  It’s what I like to do.

It wasn’t easy, believe me.

First, I was ticked that my driver and several others to boot got taken out eight laps into the race because Matt Kenseth couldn’t drive straight.  Yeah, yeah, racing incident, that’s just racing at Talladega, blah blah blah.  Whatever.  He was the one that came up into Gordon.  Period.

But that’s what people want, right?  It’s Talladega!  Let’s have The Big One!  Whee, what fun watching dozens of cars wreck simultaneously.  Now that’s racin’!

No, that’s as stupid as it gets.

Racing is cars passing each other.  Racing is engineering skill coming together with driving skill to do things in cars you and I can’t at speeds you and I can’t approach.  Racing is testing will and nerve, one against all.  That is racing.

Twenty car pileups?  No.

3400 pound cars landing on top of each other and then becoming airborne?  Definitely not racing.

Richmond is racing.  Martinsville is racing.  Bristol is racing, or at least used to be until it became a parade route thanks to the new car and NASCAR’s unwillingness to make it something with which people can race.

Talladega?  It’s not racing.  It’s a high speed freak show.

Stock cars aren’t made to go 200+ miles an hour.  Oh, they can reach that speed and more with no problem on the right track.  But reach that speed and race each other?  No.  You need the nimble efficiency of open wheel for that kind of racing.  Stock cars are in their element on short tracks in close quarters; physical racing where barring the almost utterly impossible the worst that can happen is some crumpled sheet metal and frayed tempers.  The only thing airborne at Martinsville are the fans making a dash to the restroom after one too many nuclear hot dogs.

The late David Poole (man, that’s a tough one to write) said this morning what’s been on my mind ever since Talladega far better than I ever could have.  What’s it going to take for things to change?  Does someone have to get killed before NASCAR says that’s enough?  Can’t we be proactive for once and make things right before then?

Here’s my suggestion for Talladega.  Bulldoze the place.  Start from scratch.  Build a track that’s a duplicate of Irwindale, the best short track in the world hands down.  Wide enough for three across racing action.  The exact right amount of banking for optimum speed.  The exact right length for proper stock car action.  Irwindale separates drivers from passengers located behind the wheel.  No track beats it.  None.

What about the two hundred thousand fans?  Get creative.  On one side of the track, the usual grandstands.  On the other, a mini mountain with multiple terrace levels large enough to accommodate RVs.  There’s your replacement for the infield.  Expensive and an engineering challenge?  Yeah, so?  It’s doable.  And the moment — the moment — the action starts up on that perfect short track, no one will miss the old Talladega.  No one.

No, I’m not inclined to make nice with NASCAR on this one.  Talladega is a tragedy waiting to happen.  It’d be more than nice for this to be addressed now rather than later when for one or more people it’ll be too late.  It’s the right and proper thing to do.

And that’s something about which it isn’t necessary to force the funny.