Someone Doing You Wrong Doesn’t Mean You Can Do It Wrong

Robbie Loomis, back when he was Jeff Gordon's crew chief.

Speaking of looney tunes, about last Sunday…

One of the fundamental cliches in sports is “don’t beat yourself.” Running parallel to this is the axiom about how if your opponent seems bound and determined to beat themselves, by all means let them. Regardless of the sport involved, both of these factoids ring true.

That said, in auto racing the latter tidbit is oft imperiled by the minor detail of how drivers beating themselves usually invite their fellow drivers along for the ride. Which usually ends where the wall begins. Drivers who are bound and determined to beat themselves by beating their car into an unwinnable condition need something, or to be more precise someone, against whom they can pulverize their paycheck. Almost invariably it’s a situation where aggression and/or temper tell common sense to get in, sit down, shut up and hang on. Why? Because it’s on. Never mind it puts the possibility of winning, or more often than not so much as finishing, firmly in the “off” position.

Such was the case at Infineon, where Juan Pablo Montoya and Jeff Gordon done did themselves and everyone else wrong by driving like everyone else on the track would be better served through trying things off-road style. Let’s focus on Gordon, since he was the one who invoked the greatest amount of wrath among his fellow competitors, many of whom were of the correctly stated position that they had no dog in this fight so why are you turning my car into a mangy mutt.

Being an unashamed and unabashed Gordon fan, it’s more than a bit painful watching a four-time champion run a course he used to have in his back pocket like his sole driving experience was Tuck and Roll’s Drive’Em Buggies. He was out of control, and all the mea culpas issued after the race don’t atone for the fact Gordon would have been far better off letting Ella drive this past Sunday.

So what was the deal?

Earlier this year, in an interview (will link to it if I can find it) Ray Evernham, he who was Chad Knaus to Gordon’s Jimmie Johnson before Knaus and Johnson were… well, Knaus and Johnson, made the comment, in reference to Gordon, that he suspected part of the reason why the drive for five has been stuck in-between gears since 2001 is the lack of a crew chief willing to talk to Gordon during the race in something other than reverent hushed tones. Even the greatest of drivers need a voice at the other end of the radio reminding them of the basics: watch your speed on pit road, don’t spin your tires on the restart and while you’re at it don’t hit the guy in front of you either. That, and when called for the occasional tongue-lashing regardless of cost. Lance McGrew temporarily entered the witness protection program after telling Dale Earnhardt Jr. to not lay down on him at Bristol earlier this year, but the message served its purpose.

Ever since Robbie Loomis’ outside distractions (illness in the family) started him on the downward spiral in terms of effectiveness as a crew chief, Gordon hasn’t had that kind of voice in his ear. Steve Letarte has enough problems hitting the setup at most races. Not exactly dealing from a position of strength when it comes time to reel in his driver. Which, even when the car is running well, he either will not or cannot do.

So what to do?

Pleasant dreams about Evernham wanting back in the game sufficiently to where he and GEM are able to work out a release from his contract with them and put him back atop the #24 pit box aside, Letarte needs to borrow a can or two of AMP from his teammate and tell Gordon to junk the funk when he gets in one of his moods. Gordon is too young to have lost any of his driving ability. What he does need to lose is a penchant for antics such as what we saw this past Sunday at Infineon. Fast. Otherwise, going fast will remain elusive. Someone doing you wrong doesn’t mean you can do it wrong. If you’re hoping to get it right, that is.