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.
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