Nascar's Baddest Of The Bad: Who They Are, And Why Fans Love Them

Whether we want to admit it or not, there's something mysteriously appealing about a "bad boy."  The allure has grabbed our attention since the days that James Dean introduced us to the image of the cigarette-smoking, leather-clad rebel boy with the slick hair, sexy eyes and irresistably magnetic smile.  The boy that every girl's mama warned them to stay away from, yet the boy whom none of us could resist.  The one who introduced us to the realm of the forbidden, the one whose irresistable nature quickly captured our hearts, the one whom we secretly dreamed would sweep us off our feet and carry us away, yet who represented at the same time, the complete polar opposite of every value that we were taught since childhood to hold sacred.  The baddest of the bad.  We encounter them in every walk of life.  Nowhere is immune to their presence, least of all the world of professional sports, and specifically in this instance, NASCAR racing.

A bump here, a tap there; a spin here, a flip there; a punch here, a shove there; a tossed helmet here, the eyes of an official "there;" a subsequent "invitation" to the "hauler," and there we have it:

This is how rivalries are born.  And make no mistake about it: the fans love it.

The concept of "feudalism" within racing is nothing new. Fans were introduced to the birth of the "bad boys" as early as the first televised broadcast of the Daytona 500, when more eyes were focused on the Yarborough/Allison Brothers fistfight at the checkers than they were on the race victor, Richard Petty.  And the tradition has not diminished itself with the passing of time.

Who can forget the inaugural running of the Brickyard 400 at Indianapolis Motor Speedway, and the now-famous words of Geoffrey Bodine after he fell victim to a "love tap" from younger brother Brett?  "He's my brother and I love him, but he spun me out."  Those of us who watched the event as it unfolded "may" recall that while Geoffrey was spun out of contention by his own flesh and blood, "Brother Brett" went on to finish "runner-up" to race winner Jeff Gordon.  I state again, "may" recall, because whether we want to acknowledge the fact or not, Geoffrey's revelations of a "Bodine family feud" behind the scenes ultimately stole the spotlight, when all the attention should duly have been focused on the race victor who claimed Pittsboro Indiana as home.

And speaking of Jeff Gordon: this four-time Cup Series champion has himself been labeled one of the modern-era's "bad boys" by those who have witnessed his many infamous "bump and run" victories at the expense of several of NASCAR's notables, perhaps the most memorable being his last-lap Bristol tangles with nine-time BMS winner Rusty Wallace, eliciting cheers of exuberance from the Gordon entourage and simultaneously, "beer cans and boos" from the many Wallace loyalists.  Yet when all was said and done, it was Rusty who ultimately laid the issue to rest with the now famous words "Rubbin' is racin'."  And once again, whether we care to acknowledge or deny the fact, the fans love "rubbin' and racin' " and couldn't agree more.  Just ask the longtime loyal supporters of the late, great "Intimidator," Dale Earnhardt, Sr.

Without a doubt, no one was better at executing the "bump and run" than "The Man In Black."  And he proved that fact again and again at the expense of many of his notable competitors, perhaps the most memorable of them being Darrell Waltrip, Rusty Wallace and Terry Labonte.  No doubt the Bristol image of Terry crossing the finish line and taking the checkers sideways, courtesy of "Driver 3," will remain forever ingrained in the minds of everyone who witnessed the race in question: the very same race which found many other of his fellow drivers victims of the "Wrath Of Earnhardt" in the course of a single night, and the very same event where his first "victim," Rusty Wallace, reportedly returned the favor by pelting the "Senior Earnhardt" (in reality, one of his closest friends) in the head with a water bottle in the garage area at the end of a very long night.  The Earnhardt fans cheered, the Wallace fans jeered, the Labonte fans gasped in happy disbelief...and the "bad boys" of their day chalked up another unforgettable race.

Fast-forward: In addition to the aforementioned "classics," the more modern era of racing has introduced its own share of noteworthy personalities that the fans "love to hate," among them Kevin Harvick, about whom the late Bobby Hamilton once stated, "Just because he's driving Dale Earnhardt's car, he thinks he 'is' Dale Earnhardt," and to whom fans once found themselves witness to a longstanding feud with driver Greg Biffle; two-time champion Tony Stewart whose reported "physical encounters" with reporters, photographers and even fans have left him with more negative publicity than his three championships have given him positive exposure; and one of NASCAR Sprint Cup's "latest and greatest," Kyle "Rowdy" Busch and Carl "Flipper" Edwards.  And speaking of "The Flipper," how about the "Talladega Classic" from a couple seasons back, showcasing Carl's last-lap flight into the fence, courtesy of Brad Keselowski (who went on to win the race) or the equally-famous teammate scuffle between Carl and fellow Roush-Fenway driver Matt Kenseth?  And how many of us hardliners also recall 2004's behind the scenes "Battle Of The Teammates," Penske Racing's (now retired) Rusty Wallace and his in-house nemesis Ryan Newman? The combination of scuffles and words between those two most certainly made Rusty's "Last Call" farewell tour in the season to follow, one to be remembered for more than a former champion's well-earned "goodbye."

Yes indeed, the battles are many, whether on or off the track, and while the surrounding publicity more often encompasses the negative rather than the positive, the bottom line is simple: without a little something "extra" to keep the fans glued to their seats, the sport would quickly become stale and boring.  Let's face it: racing was meant to be aggressive, designed to thrill and excite its audiences everywhere with the "edge of the seats" anticipation of "what's next?"  If the myth of "43 best friends playing nice on a Sunday afternoon" were truly allowed to perpetuate itself, where in all reality would the "excitement" ultimately lie?

Personally, this writer would much rather find herself defending those drivers I have grown to love since my introduction to the sport in 1989, against their harshest of critics both in the media and among my closest personal friends, than to sit in front of the television set for 36 weekends a year, watching courteous gentlemen drive in neat little circles for 4-, 5- or 600 mile durations and subsequently celebrate in Victory Lane with milk (exception, Indy 500 of course...it's their tradition!), Oreo cookies and a toast to the driver who allowed them to pass for the win because the driver's manual and their mamas told them it was "the nice thing to do."  Ultimately, who could really call that sort of thing "racing?"  Certainly not me!

NASCAR's "bad boys," in essence, provide the sport with the level of excitement that it needs in order to keep its fans tuned in, glued and ultimately "addicted."  They are here to stay, and this writer and longtime fan couldn't be any happier.

Married To Nascar: A Salute To The Women Who "Made The Grade"

Admit it if you dare, ladies.  At least once, we've all dreamed of being the one who shares the spotlight with a favorite Nascar driver: from the Victory Lane kiss at the end of a hard-driven 500 miles, to the reserved seating in Las Vegas as a given season's accomplishments are rewarded (doubly so if that accomplishment happens to be a series championship), to the enjoyment of the reverence, respect and even the envy of the millions of other women who would all but sell their souls for a mere single day of walking in your shoes.  To grasp for and ultimately attain our spot in Nascar's elite "inner circle" would be nothing less than the culmination of a dream-come-true for many of us who sleep, eat, breathe and live our lives fueled by that "need for speed" that only the most charismatic of drivers could ultimately satisfy. 

 

It is a status that many desire, a select few obtain, and that a silent minority all too quickly discover that in all reality, the glamour and glitz of being "Mrs. Nascar" are better left to fantasy.

 

In other words, the Nascar wife is a lady of a truly rare and special caliber.

 

She is the one who learns all too quickly that "for better, for worse" can manifest itself as "the worst" at the mere turn of a corner; the one who never knows if the "kiss for luck" before her husband climbs into his car is in actuality "a kiss goodbye;" the one who posesses an amazing ability to step back and smile when an entourage of female admirers throngs her husband in search of an autograph (oftentimes on "body parts"), knowing that ultimately "she" is the one that he will be taking home; the one who must also share the "love of her life" with team owners, sponsors, crew members, teammates, the media and once again, the die-hard fans, without so much as blinking an eye because it "comes with the territory."

 

Contrary to the public image which she must continually maintain for the sake of her man's career, the lifestyle is nothing close to the glamourous, enviable image that those of us who romanticize it from afar may be led to believe.  For 36 weeks out of every year, these women quietly accept the fact that "team time" must often take precedence over "family time;" that they, the faithful wives, are left to manage family emergencies, sibling rivalries, bloody noses, soccer practices, blown fuses, overflowing toilets, financial crises and the like, in the absence of the head of the household; and further, they appear for all intents and purposes to accept the role and its accompanying responsibilities as "all in a day's work," without openly voicing a single complaint.

 

In actuality, how many of us who so easily romanticize her lifestyle from a distance could truly measure up under the constant pressure of being in the limelight and upholding an image "expected" by those to whom her husband is constantly at the beckoning call?  And realistically speaking, who among us could exhibit a strength equal to the likes of Teresa Earnhardt, Liz Allison and Susan Bonnett among others, whose husbands were laid to rest in the sudden and unexpected aftermath of the unthinkable; or mothers of the caliber of Judy Allison, Martha Nemechek and Patti Petty whose sons were taken in the midst of what should have been the prime of their lives?  Indeed, these ladies and many others are genuine representations of the most tremendous of strengths under the most tragic of circumstances, qualities that the rest of us can only admire and appreciate from afar.  And dream though we may of stepping into their shoes and onto the arm of one of Nascar's most talented and irresistably handsome gentlemen, in all reality the aspects so freely glamourized by the media disappear into oblivion the moment that the cameras stop rolling, the moment the race of the week is forever recorded in the sport's history books, the moment that a beloved driver is seriously injured or killed and the loving wife is left behind to pick up the pieces on her own in the face of the unthinkable...in short, it is a position that many desire but few could truly measure up to.  And bearing in mind the "reality" behind the demanding schedules, business and sponsor obligations, millions of adoring female fans and the underlying sense of dread when facing the very real possibility of sudden and tragic loss, this writer has come to the realistic conclusion that such an honor is better bestowed upon those ladies who are more closely rooted and grounded in the sport than the average observer: those possesing the inner strength of Teresa Earnhardt; or the business-savvy aptitude of Delana Harvick; the quiet and graceful presence of Krissy Newman, Katie Kenseth or Ingrid Vandebosch-Gordon; the loyal and supportive (albeit extremely nervewracking) on-camera demeanor of Kim Burton, etc.  As for me (and most likely every other female who has ever secretly dreamed of becoming part of the enviable "Nascar Wife" inner circle), I shall henceforth and forever remain content to enjoy the status of "loyal fan" and support my driver of choice from the comfort of my faithful living room couch, thus eliminating the exhausting outside obligations and expectations that go hand-in-hand with the image, or the urge to reach out and smack every dreamy-eyed female fan requesting my man's autograph in permanent marker on "parts unmentionable."

 

But the best part of keeping things simple?  By far, the clear and unobstructed view of that awesome signature "Victory Backflip" from the comfort and privacy of my own living room.

 

I think I can live with that!

Cheers, Jeers And Championships: Where The Rubber Meets The Road

At every race track on the circuit, they are out there: the drivers we love, the drivers we hate, and the drivers we "love to hate"--each of them with one common goal in mind: the pursuit of a Nascar championship. Irrespective of the level of competition--Cup, Nationwide or Camping World Series--the title "Champion" carries with it the ultimate mark of prestige. It says to those in the racing world and to fans everywhere, "I am the best," and it further sets apart each driver attaining the honor into a most elite and exclusive group of individuals who have placed a permanent and indelible mark into the sport's history books.

We are all familiar with the names: Earnhardt, Petty, Waltrip, Elliott, Wallace, Stewart, Gordon and Johnson, just to name a select few. Even if their respective tenures as champions took place before our personal introductions into Nascar, nevertheless everyone who claims to be a die-hard follower of the sport has at least "heard" of their histories whether or not they were privileged to witness their respective heydays on a firsthand basis. And everyone claiming at least minimal knowledge of the sport is aware through sheer common sense that in order to be crowned a champion, one must meet certain common criteria--foremost amongst such being consistency on the track combined with sheer talent behind the wheel.

But alongside of the "obvious," there is another equally important characteristic that comes into play at some point along the line--one that isn't so much written in objective black-and-white as it is subjective through the eyes of the fans.

In one word: respectability.

Sure, a driver's personality must posess a certain "rough around the edges" quality that lets his competitors know in no uncertain terms that he means business on the track. Without the proper combination of "good guy/bad guy" underlying his public character, one might otherwise be perceived as too "vanilla"--bland, boring, and fitting somewhere outside the realm of the appropriate "mold" that we the fans attribute to someone of true championship caliber. But from the opposite extreme, there exists an understandable level of fan displeasure and disdain when the sport's "bad boys" behave a bit "too" badly for their own good or the good of the sport as a whole. We have all witnessed the trademark tirades of a select few individuals who erroneously believe that their undeniable talents and abilities behind the wheel have somehow elevated them to the status of a god of one sort or another, oftentimes to the point where they practically demand the respect of both their fellow competitors and their fan base--not realizing that respect at any level is something that must be earned before it is extended.

When the rubber truly meets the road, who is the sport's "real" champion as seen through the eyes of the public fan base? And what sort of individual posesses the greater potential to properly and most appropriately represent racing and all that it truly stands for during his year-long tenure at the top of the charts? While thoughts may differ a bit regarding one concrete response, it is the opinion of your writer that a champion (or championship contender) who fails to earn the respect and admiration of his public is just another "winner" whose name and statistics are duly recorded in the history books.

Nothing more.

To illustrate, let's take a hypothetical look at Driver A vs Driver B. Driver A's record on track speaks for itself. Statistically, he races consistently--running in the top 5 and no worse than the top 10 each and every week, and even scoring a few victories along the way. He drives for an organization of "super power" caliber, boasting of nothing less than the very best in equipment and personnel that money can buy. But that's only half the story. On the race track, he has somehow managed to earn himself quite the reputation for "stopping at nothing" in pursuit of the sort of finish that culminates in the ultimate prize: hoisting the trophy at the season finale. In his quest to be the best, he has purposely wrecked countless competitors, on some occasions including his own teammates, totally destroying their equipment and perhaps contributing to some level of physical injury along the way, and rarely if ever with an apology to follow. One step further, his post-crash or post-race interviews are almost always laced with some sort of self-promotion intended to make his fellow drivers appear to be the villains while he emerges (or so he would like to make everyone believe) smelling like the proverbial rose. And then he wonders why he is continually greeted with a resounding chorus of boo's and hisses during driver introductions and in Victory Lane. As if the fans would actually take pleasure in hailing his accomplishments when his focus is on only one thing--himself, at the expense of everyone else in the field. Hmm--maybe he could stand to take a good, long look at himself in a mirror; therein he just might find the answer to his question.

By contrast, Driver B could represent any organization in the venue, be it superteam level, middle of the road, or working its way up the success ladder. He may represent the hopeful newcomer in search of his first career victory, or the "middle ground" driver who has tasted a certain level of success in the form of either a single career win or a few "scattered" victories, or the driver who has been the "bridesmaid" rather than the "bride" on multiple occasions, just barely missing out on the smallest margin of points standing between himself and the coveted title, yet always accepting his seasonal ranking with the greatest of humility and sportsmanship. He is the driver who hears the cheers of the crowd and responds with a smile and a wave rather than an attitude of "everybody's looking at me." And he is the one who, when all is said and done, leaves the track each week knowing that he has given it "his all," irrespective of the outcome. He is respectful toward his many loyal fans, often attributing just as much of his success to them as he credits to his sponsors and his organization as a whole, knowing that without the fans, his career (and the sport itself) would be nothing. He is, in essence, the individual that everyone takes pride in looking up to, or the one to whom his fellow drivers often go seeking advice (which he extends freely, remembering that someone once helped "him" get off the ground too.) And he is, in many ways, a champion's champion who may or may not have ever actually hoisted the trophy and held the title--and it all boils down to one simple concept--respect.

I don't know about those of you amongst my readership, but as for me, given a choice between "respectability" and "mere ability" when defining what constitutes a true champion, I would go for the former any day of the week. The objective criteria of point standings and statistics only tell part of the story. The personable, genuine driver who knows how to relate to the fans, sponsors and media, and who is willing to extend a handshake instead of a fist to the driver who takes him out of contention, or to the reporter simply doing his job in the aftermath of a crash, is the one who posesses the most basic qualities that exemplify championship character.

And that is something that every driver could ultimately stand to learn from.