A Looney Tunes Day For The Tasmanian Devil

Races such as what we witnessed this past Sunday at Infineon have far too many subplots and subterfuge (or at least accusations thereof) to possibly run through in a single blog post. Therefore, won’t try. Instead, let’s tackle one topic at a time. First up on the list is how the fickle finger of fate turned into a foot and kangaroo kicked Marcos Ambrose.

Leaving aside for now certain drivers, to be named in a later post, who seemed bound and determined to take themselves out of competition along with anyone within wine bottle throwing distance, the only drivers who had a legitimate shot at winning this year’s Toyota Save Mart 350 at Infineon Raceway were Jimmie Johnson and the aforementioned Mr. Ambrose. At first it seemed that Johnson had it in the bag, or box as in boxed wine which can occasionally be found in Napa Valley being sold on shadowy street corners to kids who’ve graduated from Boone’s Farm Strawberry Hill to the next level. But I digress. Anyway, Johnson was being… well, Johnson; the überking of California cool who along with his partner in trophy hoisting Chad Knaus were taking a leisurely Sunday drive, enjoying the view. Of no one in front of the #48, that is.

Then along came Ambrose, figuring since not only was he carrying the colors of local company Clorox — you know their headquarters are in Oakland, correct? — his car, being numbered 47 and therefore being one lower than the Lowe’s machine, should rightly be one spot higher in the running so as to avoid any feelings of inadequacy requiring a group hug by everyone attending the race in tie-dye. Now, for the benefit of those whose familiarity with Ambrose extends only to his NASCAR career, Ambrose won two Australian V8 Supercar championships before deciding to try his hand at stock car racing American style. Along the way he earned the nickname Tasmanian Devil, which has nothing to do with any affection he may have for Warner Bros. cartoons. The epitome of positive cheeriness out of the car, once behind the wheel Ambrose immediately flips his Jekyll/Hyde switch to the nasty position and has at it. No quarter, no mercy and I don’t care who you are; the only way around me is… uh, wait, there isn’t one if I can possibly help it.

And oh yes, he’s great at road course racing.

Ambrose, unlike certain drivers to be named in a later post, was determined to not beat himself at Infineon. He was rewarded by being in the lead during a late race caution, with only Johnson to possibly worry about. However, Ambrose had demonstrated during the preceding stretch of green flag action that he was going to be the better of Johnson this day. Victory, his first ever in Sprint Cup, was within reach. All he had to do is…

… conserve fuel in case there was to be any green-white-I’d-like-to-thank-my-sponsors action, which given how certain drivers to be named in a later post were comporting themselves seemed darn near inevitable. And so, Ambrose did what countless drivers have done before in countless races, and doubtless more than a few behind him were doing that day. He switched off the engine for a moment, content to let the car coast. He’d then turn the engine back on and resume regular driving activity. Everyone’s done or is doing it. No problem.

There was a problem, though.

The car didn’t restart before coming to a dead stop.

Now, NASCAR was in a pickle. The rule book, or at least the portion not kept in a hiding place so secret it makes finding the Ark of the Covenant seem like working a junior edition of Where’s Waldo, says the leader has to maintain a reasonable speed when the race is under caution. Or at least be faster than Scott Speed. It was hard to read the whiteboard upon which all rules are written when it’s in full sun. Anyway, NASCAR decided to follow the letter of the law. To seventh place with ye on the restart! Ambrose wound up finishing sixth on the day due to NASCAR’s ruling.

A ruling that managed to be simultaneously correct and wrong.

Did Ambrose maintain a reasonable speed? No. That duly noted, was he able to re-fire his car without assistance while the caution was still going? Yes. So why penalize him for a situation that in no fashion impacted the active portion of the proceedings, either before or after the caution? If there’s a situation where picking nits deserves to be punted, this is one.

However, as Ambrose noted following the race, it is NASCAR’s house and NASCAR’s rules. Still, one wishes in this instance NASCAR would have done as it has dome more than a few times in recent years: embrace the philosophy of no harm, no foul and let things slide. Would it have hurt the sport’s integrity? Not in the least. But they didn’t see it that way. Ah well.

And the final insult?

There was no green-white-I’d-like-to-thank-my-sponsors finish.