I can only imagine what he’d be saying about U.S. House Representative Betty McCollum, Democrat from Minnesota, who has offered an amendment to the budget bill presently before Congress designed to retire the national debt, end the recession we’re not suffering through and bring peace in our time.

Or, in lieu of the above, ban military sponsorship in NASCAR.

Apparently Rep. McCollum has taken upon herself the noble task of deciding how the military can best spend its advertising, or if you prefer recruiting, dollars. This is assuming she believes it should spend any money at all on such things. Perhaps she believes recruits magically appear, having heard about joining the military through osmosis. Or on the back of energy drinks. Which, given how teens slam those things down like water, wouldn’t be a bad place to advertise. But I digress; and besides, the connection between Mountain Dew AMP and Dale Earnhardt Jr., whose other primary sponsor is the National Guard is quite satisfactory to all parties involved.

The rationale set forth by Rep. McCollum’s staff is its firmly held belief, no doubt based on exhaustive research such as no one in her office knowing Jimmie Johnson from Jimmy Dean, that NASCAR sponsorship has zero effect in terms of influencing decision-making among fans. This, of course, explains why assorted creators of goods and services routinely feature drivers they sponsor in massive advertising campaigns. After all, everyone knows the key to marketing success is a spokesperson who couldn’t sell snowshoes in a snowstorm with zero public recognition and appeal to boot.

It is difficult to imagine Rep. McCollum believes anyone in the military has spent a single minute researching the most effective ways to get out its message. Apparently she is of the firm conviction it throws money around willy-nilly without a single thought as to whether it is being spent wisely or simply wasted. Then again, she is in Congress, so she probably assumes all other branches of government operate under guidelines with which she is familiar.

My Dad is sadly no longer with us on this planet, but my oldest brother who fought in Vietnam is quite alive. I know there’s a gleam in his eye and a smile on his face every time he sees the Army car circling the track. And it’s not because he’s the world’s greatest Ryan Newman fan.

There is this thing called morale that extends far beyond simple recruiting. One look at the faces of military personnel visiting the number 39 pits on race day; one look at how a representation of the military in this most American of sports lifts the spirits of members of our military both past and present as they fight for, and are willing to die for, the preservation of our country — these are the reasons why military sponsorships belongs in NASCAR. It’s unfortunate Rep. McCollum is either unwilling or unable to see past her perception of the immediate, thus missing altogether the heart of a soldier.

Another one of those “need to say this in order to set up that” posts, so please bear with while I chase down yet another rabbit hole. Which has nothing to do with Brer Bear chasing after Brer Rabbit, although I do wish Disney would release Song of the South on DVD sometime before I shuffle off this mortal coil. But I digress.

I’ve found myself listening to the Grateful Dead lately. A mite odd, in that despite my San Francisco Bay Area roots, I have been at best lukewarm about Jerry Garcia and company the past few decades. Nevertheless, although I seriously doubt I’ll ever become a full-blown Deadhead I’ve come to enjoy their easy-going country/folk/rock/whatever comes to mind at the time boogie along with Garcia’s straightforward melodic playing. That said, let it be known a friend of the devil is not a friend of mine.

This came to mind the other day when a line from Truckin’ (“what a long, strange trip it’s been”) popped into my head when I was going through the mail and found my NMPA membership card. No, not National Music Publishers Association or New Mexico Psychological Association or National Marine Propeller Association or North Mississippi Physicians Association, although no doubt they are fine groups one and all. This is something different.

National Motorsports Press Association.

Who, me?

If someone would have said eight years ago when I first started blogging about NASCAR one day I’d be accepted as a legitimate media member, they would have been laughed out of town. I mean, c’mon. I was a flippin’ blogger. Not to mention abrasive and combative. (Some things never change, what say?)

Nevertheless, as the years progressed and I smoothed off at least one or two of the rough edges, some of the mainstream media people covering NASCAR and related topics, whose throats I hadn’t jumped down (and even a few who received lambastings) began to communicate with me. Yes, sometimes it was a counteroffensive to one or more of my snarks. That said, more often it was a compliment or inquiry of some sort. Some of us even became friends.

After a few years of flying solo, I went semipro with SB Nation, which at the time was a collection of sports bloggers under one umbrella (it’s since gone much more mainstream). It raised visibility and increased the impression of legitimacy, but I felt my work there was decidedly subpar to what I had been doing before. I was trying too hard to be a sports blogger, and even though I had been blogging about sports for years I never considered myself to be a sports blogger per se. Rather, I was a blogger who usually wrote about NASCAR but felt free to wander off into whatever topics struck my fancy.

I ended my tenure at SB Nation in 2008 partially for this reason, but mostly to work on the book that had become my true calling. The thinking was once I had finished it, I would get back to where I started from and resume being lovable ol’ me. Well, me anyway.

So much for that thought.

2009 was consumed with promoting the book and this blog while dealing with the drain of an oppressive financial situation, family matters and a different set of workplace issues than the ones which had dogged me most of 2008. Not an environment conducive to cute, cuddly and sometimes snarky comments about driving fast and turning left. 2010 was even worse, with the passing away in February of my aunt I and other family members had been caring for as she faded away from dementia, followed by my Mom joining her in heaven in May.

Yet even while this was going on, I was taking a massive step toward media status by going to my first NASCAR race not as a spectator, but as a credentialed member of the press. It was a tumbled whirlwind, watching and learning and writing while coming to grips with my aunt’s passing, as she died the morning I left for the track in southern California. The weekend would have been surreal anyway; now it was Alice in Wonderland territory minus the White Rabbit although an argument could be made about Tweedledee and Tweedledum being present.

Shortly before this took place, I signed on with Examiner.com as a NASCAR writer, later changing that to motorsports as I wanted to discuss other racing series. I felt bad that I wasn’t contributing as much as I should, but last year I was preoccupied with life issues and/or health problems in the presence of a nasty bout of tendonitis which made typing a painful chore. Guess what I do at the office at day. And, as a capper, I decided to revise the book.

We’re now into 2011. The only New Years resolution I make is one I’ve never broken: resolving to not make any New Years resolution. This duly noted, my goal for this year is to reclaim my life, getting back to the things I enjoy. Part of that is writing about motorsports, with the goal being to get on it at Examiner.com under the directive of playing it semi-straight there as more of a columnist than an actual reporter. I’ve more or less mothballed the NASCAR blog, but I hold in reserve the option of resuming activity. And, I intend to continue working on this modest waystation on the information superhighway. But back to the motorsports thing.

Yes, I am a member of NMPA. Whouda thunk.

October 7

Going To California

October 8

Fontana Friday Morning

A Relaxed Danica Patrick? Believe It

A Softer Side Of Carl Edwards

October 9

Kyle Busch Wins Race, Danica Patrick Real Winner At Auto Club

October 10

Tony Stewart Wins Smokin’ Hot Pepsi MAX 400 At Auto Club Speedway

First and foremost, Sarah Palin remains the barracuda to everyone else’s guppy. Her endorsement of Joe Miller in the Alaska GOP Senate race was crucial in his upset win over incumbent Lisa Murkowski despite her heavily outspending, plus enjoying far greater public recognition than, Miller.

While it can be safely argued Palin’s support of Miller stemmed from her preferring his far more conservative political stance than that evidenced by Murkowski, this falls by the wayside when one considers she also supported the highly unpopular among conservatives John McCain, who crushed J.D. Hayworth in what many had thought would be a much closer Arizona GOP Senate primary than turned out to be the case. Granted, Hayworth was a bit of a clown. Actually, more than a bit. Yet despite this, he was highly favored among those who have labeled McCain the symbol of all that is evil in the Republican party. The opinion of voters strongly indicate otherwise. It should also indicate to those who blame McCain for everything under the sun that maybe they should get over themselves and their precious litmus tests. The enemy of your enemy may not be your BFF, but they sure ain’t your enemy either.

Anyway, an even stronger message was proclaimed in one of the Arizona GOP House primaries, where cyberspace sweetheart Pamela Gorman came in fifth with Dan Quayle’s son Ben taking the win. Ouch. For the record, Palin never endorsed Gorman despite her, on the surface, being everything one would want in a mama grizzly. Why?

Palin is seldom given credit for her political savvy. Or much of anything else, even by more than a few of her most ardent supporters who have become so enraptured by her aura they fail to see the person behind them. Palin is not addicted to pleasing those who measure everything by their aforementioned private political litmus tests. She pays little attention to pundits, professional or amateur, on either side of the aisle. Instead, time and again she has demonstrated pragmatism without sacrificing principals. Palin has never failed to explain her choices for those she endorses. When she doesn’t endorse someone… again, as the Scripture says wisdom is proved right by her children. More than once — Gorman, prior to that Chuck DeVore in the California GOP Senate primary — Palin has withheld an endorsement, in the case of DeVore endorsing a candidate (Carly Fiorina) who ostensibly should have been the last person to receive a nod, let along a wink and a smile.

Let’s break this down a bit.

When ostensibly solid candidates turn into dots on the horizon when the ballots are tabulated, the question of why naturally arises. Sometimes it’s due not to their being disliked, but rather to the opposition being more preferred. However, more often than not it’s due to the losing candidate, regardless of how in many cases they generate tremendous enthusiasm among the faithful, running a terrible campaign.

Bringing in one of my favorite topics, namely NASCAR, the parallels being succeeding in it and succeeding in politics are numerous. Examples, you say? Sure.

Race the track. A winning driver in NASCAR is running not so much against the other drivers as they are running against the track, and to a degree themselves. Each track in NASCAR is unique, with its own characteristics brought about by an assortment of factors: length, shape, degree of banking, configuration of turns and so on. How well you negotiate each track determines your success far, far more than how the other drivers are taking care of business. If you do your job well, you do well. Period.

Similarly, in politics, especially a primary, a successful candidate spends far more time defining themselves than running against or so much as acknowledging the other candidates. You can’t be the best of the people running in the primary and leave it at that. You have to be the best person for the job period. Using another sports analogy, running full bore against the other people in your party is the equivalent of a starting pitcher laying it all on the line… in the pre-game warmup.

Next, stay focused on the local. There isn’t a NASCAR driver out there who’s turning laps at a short track like Martinsville while thinking about their strategy for the upcoming race at a restrictor plate track like Talladega.

Far too many candidates are becoming bedazzled by the bright lights of social media and nationwide attention. While it’s definitely important to effectively use social media as part of your campaign efforts, devoting too much time and energy toward making appearances with, and winning acclaim from, the more popular practitioners of preaching to the choir generates tremendous applause from said choir. And nothing from the overwhelming majority of those who will actually be going to polling places where your name appears on the ballot.

Social media goes only so far. It doesn’t reach all that many people compared to traditional methods, and especially in politics is primarily received solely by those already in tune with the given message and its backing philosophy. They’re already voting for you. At least, the tiny number of people eligible to do so will be doing so. The old-fashioned way of shoe leather and direct local contact still rules. Think global? Sure. But campaign local.

Every driver is identified with their crew chief. While the driver is the one mashing pedals and turning the steering wheel, at every race the crew chief is the one who gets information from the driver about how the car is responding. From this, they prescribe what changes, if any, need to be made to the car during the next pit stop.

The person or persons who oversee a candidate’s campaign efforts are very much in the same vein as a NASCAR driver’s crew chief. If they are a hired gun, a carpetbagger whose apparent loyalty extends solely to padding their resume, you’ve got problems.

The best crew chiefs, even when directly questioned, talk up nothing and no one but their driver. Same deal goes for campaign managers, strategists and everyone else. Anonymous. Assistance. Always. Anyone who says “look at me” while ‘helping’

Is not helping. Period.

Substance first, style second. A driver might connect wonderfully with the fan base based on different factors — looks, mannerisms and the like. But if they can’t drive, they won’t be around for long.

Taking this to politics, kitsch makes for horrible advertisements. We’ve had some doozies this year. The unifying factor behind them all? The candidate who made them got smoked. Issues, issues, issues. Not machine guns.

Sell yourself, but not solely yourself. Have a personality, but it must be mainly demonstrated through policies and practices. Substance.

And that’s how NASCAR and politics work together.

By the way, Sarah Palin is a huge NASCAR fan.

BRISTOL, TN – AUGUST 21: Kyle Busch, driver of the #18 Doublemint Toyota, celebrates in Victory Lane after winning the NASCAR Sprint Cup Series IRWIN Tools Night Race at Bristol Motor Speedway on August 21, 2010 in Bristol, Tennessee. (Photo by John Harrelson/Getty Images for NASCAR)

This past Saturday’s Sprint Cup race at Bristol Motor Speedway was one of the greatest non-events in NASCAR history.

Leading into the evening, all who watched were led to believe this would make UFC look like a tea sipping contest. Tempers were hot. Tensions were high. Bumpers were being triple-reinforced with titanium, all the better for bashing anyone in the way. Everyone had a grudge against, a score to settle with, everyone else. Call-outs were more popular than hot dogs at Martinsville. This was going to be old-school stock car racing, the kind NASCAR had been intimating would take place since before the season started when it said in so many words have at it, gentlemen. Instead of robotic corporate spokespersons it’d be Rock’Em Sock’Em Robots. The brawl to end it all.

So what happened?

Forty-three bunnies quietly hopping along, with nary a Bugs to spice up matters.

Thrillsville.

The lead poseur desperately striking an image as a cottonmouth water moccasin, yet on the track becoming Peter Cottontail, was Kyle Busch. He accomplished the hitherto unknown feat of whipping up on lesser competition in both the truck and Nationwide series, then negotiating his way through Sprint Cup en route to winning in all three series at the same track in an extended weekend. Busch is a first-rate driver and third-rate third-grade schoolyard bully, the one who continues to run his mouth for the sole reason no one can seemingly be bothered to shut him up.

It’s not that the desired outcome was a demolition derby. However, with the sole exception of Juan Pablo Montoya taking out Jimmie Johnson, all the pre-race blather about how this driver was going to get revenge against that driver who had done him wrong was revealed to be so much hot air. The on-track action wasn’t. It was Alphonse and Gaston. Instead of saying “clear” the spotters were reminding their drivers to mind their manners and say excuse me whenever they went by someone. The end result was a race that stultified rather than sizzle.

Thanks for not much of anything, boys.

(Cross-posted at Examiner.com.)

INDIANAPOLIS – JULY 24: Paul Menard, driver of the #98 Mastercraft/Menards Ford, in his car on pit road during practice for the NASCAR Sprint Cup Series Brickyard 400 at Indianapolis Motor Speedway on July 24, 2010 in Indianapolis, Indiana. (Photo by Christian Petersen/Getty Images)

Earlier today, the announcement was made that Paul Menard would be leaving Richard Petty Motorsports at the end of the season to become the fourth driver in Richard Childress Racing’s stable starting next year.

The most remarkable element of the announcement by all parties concerned was the ability to keep a straight face throughout.

Menard’s continued employment has precious little to do with driving ability. Between Sprint Cup, Nationwide and Camping World Truck series, going into this weekend he has made 291 races. Wins? One. In Nationwide. At Milwaukee. In 2006. Yeah, sign ‘em up.

No, Menard has a guaranteed job because his last name is Menard. As in the son of John Menard Jr., founder of Menards home improvement centers. When Daddy is willing to pony up the big bucks so his kid can have a 1:1 scale slot car minus the slots, it’s amazing how accommodating team owners can be in these economically-challenged times.

Menard is nowhere near the quality of driver that his new teammates are, namely Jeff Burton, Kevin Harvick and Clint Bowyer. It’ll be interesting to see how the team dynamic works, if in fact it works at all. The Big Three at RCR are all about wins and championships. Menard gives every impression of someone postponing stocking shelves at the old man’s store as long as possible. That said, retail shouldn’t be an issue for him when his racing days are done. He’s already used to working weekends.

(Cross-posted at Examiner.com)

JOLIET, IL – JULY 09: Kasey Kahne, driver of the #9 Budweiser Ford, looks on in the garage during practice for the NASCAR Sprint Cup Series LIFELOCK.COM 400 at the Chicagoland Speedway on July 9, 2010 in Joliet, Illinois.

(Photo by John Harrelson/Getty Images for NASCAR)

Ever since the announcement that Kasey Kahne was joining the Hendrick stable in 2012, the question has been what he’d occupy his time with in 2011. Various ideas were floated: a third Stewart-Haas car, taking over for Mark Martin despite the latter’s protests that he had a firm contract with Hendrick he would fulfill. As it turns out, the answer is none of the above.

In what on the surface is an oddball arrangement, Kahne will drive for Red Bull in 2011. Although the assorted announcements from all parties are their obligatory happy-spin selves, more than a few questions remain unanswered:

• Setting aside the obvious promotional angle (“Kandy Kahne goes from beer bloat to blazing energy!”), how much capital is Red Bull willing to invest in what ostensibly is a one-year deal?
• How much sweet-talking was needed to keep the Pepsi people pleased, given that a Hendrick driver will be flying the colors of a competitor? Remember, Pepsi makes Mountain Dew AMP, presently being represented by Dale Earnhardt Jr.
• Unless Red Bull is planning a switch to Chevrolet next year, it’s difficult to accept Chevrolet doing the happy dance over who is certain to be prominently featured in their advertising come 2012 driving a Toyota next year.
• Who will be Kahne’s teammate at Red Bull? Brian Vickers’ return is at best uncertain, while Scott Speed appears headed toward the unemployment line. There are available names — Elliott Sadler, Marcos Ambrose — but do they fit the Red Bull marketing brand of hip X Gamers?

Stay tuned.

(Cross-posted at Examiner.com)

WATKINS GLEN, NY – AUGUST 08: Juan Pablo Montoya, driver of the #42 Target Chevrolet, celebrates after winning the NASCAR Sprint Cup Series Heluva Good! Sour Cream Dips at Watkins Glen International on August 8, 2010 in Watkins Glen, New York. (Photo by Rusty Jarrett/Getty Images for NASCAR)

The only disappointing aspect of Juan Pablo Montoya’s victory yesterday in the Heluva Good! Sour Cream Dips NASCAR Sprint Cup race at Watkins Glen International was when he emerged from the car in Victory Lane, wearing an all-red fire suit. It ought to be red and khaki. Ah well.

It became evident at an early part of the race — about five minutes before the opening invocation, by most accounts — that Montoya and Marcos Ambrose were easily the class of the field. They provided some terrific lead battles throughout, with Montoya eventually prevailing over Ambrose due to the latter’s difficulties during late restarts and ultimately a softening tire. It’s odd to have a race that’s action-plus until the end when it turns into a snoozer, but that’s how Watkins Glen shook out.

With the win, Montoya delivered something no one who has previously carried the Target colors in Cup action, be it Jimmy Spencer or Casey Mears or Reed Sorenson, had accomplished. Namely, win. Maybe now Target will start carrying NASCAR diecast again. Or at least Bullseye in a racing suit.

Other items of note from the race were how roughhousing it has become the accepted norm during road course races done stock car style. Once upon a time, NASCAR on a road course meant one and all tiptoeing through the tulips. Or vineyards when the race was at Infineon. No more. Now, with the ever-growing number of drivers who embrace road courses, it’s chrome horn o’plenty time. With the gravel traps gone from Watkins Glen, instead it’s drivers with rocks in their head wreaking the most damage. As Denny Hamlin and Jimmie Johnson can testify, when Kyle Busch’s decision to make a two-wide turn three-wide turned him into the third car in a two-car accident. Heluva job, Shrub.

Also of note was the individual and collective misery of Hendrick’s Fab Four. When a Jeff Gordon, even with the distraction of his son’s pending birth which took place this morning, can muster no better than a tenth on a road course, something is not right both back at the shop and on top of the pit box. Johnson’s woes have already been mentioned. Mark Martin’s sole appearance at the top came courtesy of not having yet pitted when a caution came out. As to Dale Earnhardt Jr., ol’ Rocket 88 was a sputtering mess all weekend. Only his personally roaring to life as the day progressed salvaged a twenty-sixth place finish.

That said, in the end the day belonged to Montoya. And Chip Ganassi, who managed to not only talk Target into expanding its Indy car sponsorship into NASCAR several years ago, but keeping it on board during all the times when the red and white car ran like a dog, until it finally achieved the success in stock cars it had long enjoyed in open wheel competition.

Bullseye’s tail must be wagging in delight.

(Cross-posted at Examiner.com)

Kelley Earnhardt (L) with Skirts & Scuffs editor Rebecca Kivak at the NASCAR Hall of Fame in Charlotte. (Photo courtesy Rebecca Kivak)

While the record book will show Marcos Ambrose won today’s NASCAR Nationwide Series Zippo 200 at the Glen — and no, just because Zippo sponsored Ambrose’s car does not mean the fix was on — it will also note veteran Canadian road racer Ron Fellows finished sixth, while fellow Canadian J.R. Fitzpatrick finished an impressive eleventh in his second Nationwide race.

The connecting factor between the two?

Other than their being Canadian, that is.

They were both driving JR Motorsports cars.

In which they were placed by Kelley Earnhardt.

There are multiple names connected with JR Motorsports. Certainly Dale Earnhardt Jr.’s is best known. The contributions of Rick Hendrick, along with Tony Eury and Tony Eury Jr., are strong contributing factors. However, ultimately the organization’s success has stemmed from its central figure, one who while not shunning the spotlight also does not demand attention. Namely, Kelley.

In a perfect world, Kelley Earnhardt would be known as much for her race car driving ability as her business savvy. Regrettably, her on the track career never came to full fruition. She instead turned her attention in much the same direction her father did in the latter portion of his life, that being learning the business side of things. And learn them she has.

Owners often bear as much criticism for a driver or team’s performance woes as the driver or team themselves, while receiving insufficient credit when the right people are brought together. For example, Rick Hendrick has been lambasted by the Junior Nation for the struggles of the #88 team. Yet this is the same man who not only had the wisdom to put Jimmie Johnson and Chad Knaus together, he also none too gently ripped both of them a new one when early on in the relationship there was far more sniping at each other than celebrating with each other taking place. You don’t think he’s trying to find a solution to what ails Dale Jr.’s team? You’re wrong. But I digress; back to Kelley.

You know things are rough in NASCAR when even the Earnhardt name can’t secure full-time sponsorship for either of the two cars it runs in the Nationwide series. Despite this, Kelley has managed to find sufficient sponsorship, plus juggle a number of drivers, to where JR Motorsports has been able to keep moving forward. It doesn’t hurt that one of the drivers who occasionally takes a turn in the #7 car is… oh, what’s that name again… right, Paul Hospenthal’s wife.

You know — Danica Patrick?

Returning to the theme of owners taking blame along with acclaim, while most every one in the garage endures their share of flak, seldom if ever is anything negative said about Kelley Earnhardt. Why? Primarily because her savvy is evident for all to see. She engineered Danica’s entry into NASCAR, which despite the snarks of assorted media haters has gone as well as it could possibly be expected to go for a part-time, first-year experiment. One suspects she had a huge part in bringing the disparate individuals and businesses together that facilitated her brother’s winning run this past July in the Nationwide race at Daytona, flying his and her father’s number and colors. Finally, she oversees the business affairs of her brother, which given how regardless of his present on-track difficulties he is NASCAR’s shining star, would be enough to drive most people into an insane asylum with the sheer volume of demands on all involved. Kelley pulls it off with aplomb.

In a sport where brickbats are hurled at all with seemingly more frequency, and definitely more force, than bouquets are tossed it’s refreshing to see someone about whom seldom is heard a discouraging word. Kelley Earnhardt is such a person. NASCAR is all the better for her presence.

As are its fans.

Yeah, this is the look of a shell-dweller. (Photo by Todd Warshaw/Getty Images for NASCAR)

The recent New York Times magazine article on Dale Earnhardt Jr. should earn its writer a thank-you note from Pocono Speedway, wishing him well for taking the heat off over the track’s preferring to promote its implementation of solar energy over such frivolities as, oh, making the actual racing facility safe. It is to NASCAR’s credit that Elliott Sadler is able to race this weekend. Or, for that matter, breathe. But I digress; back to the story at hand.

There’s a tendency to take anything said in the Times about NASCAR with a salt lick, let alone a grain. We are talking about a publication which to this day has yet to learn NASCAR is an acronym. You know, one where all the letters are capitalized?

Anyway, as depicted by one Pat Jordan, Earnhardt Jr. is a mealy borderline hermit, forever hiding in his own shadow while trying to escape the giant one still cast by his father more than nine years after his death. He’s also too indifferent toward his chosen profession to put in the work needed for success. The only thing missing is Jordan saying, “Hey — look at the wimpy redneck with the red beard! Let’s all laugh at the hick.” Literally saying it, anyway. Oh, he’s a good enough writer to wrap everything with a vibe of sympathy toward poor Dale Jr., forever pushed and prodded by others into being something he’s not. However, in the final analysis Jordan’s article is the journalistic equivalent of someone handing you a miniature cupcake, flavor of their own choosing, and telling you not only is it your wedding cake, it’s the entire banquet. You’re not getting the full meal. In fact, you’re being pathetically shortchanged on dessert.

And journalists wonder why drivers have become increasingly hostile this year.

If the article is accurate, Dale Jr. ought to be lionized by the metrosexual East coast self-appointed elite, the one whose members are of the unshakable opinion everyone born south of the Mason-Dixon line are the byproducts of in-breeding while they themselves need two hands to carry a six-pack. Don’t hold your breath waiting for this to happen. Self-induced asphyxiation is a wretched way to go. No, one is best advised to write this off as yet another chapter in the ongoing saga that permeates much of the mainstream media. Namely, disrespect for all things, and individuals, NASCAR.

That said, before letting this go a couple of observations.

Were Earnhardt Jr. as depicted in the aforementioned article, he would not be competing in Sprint Cup and still hanging on to at least a shot of making the Chase despite his team problems. He’d be hiding in his bedroom. It’s not like he needs any more money. He could easily coast on his name, focusing on being a team owner. Or being a celebrity. Instead, he’s in the car.

Which ties into the final observation.

Were Earnhardt Jr. as depicted in the aforementioned article, no way would he have embraced the insanity that was the Nationwide race at Daytona this past July. He signed off on running a deal that involved bringing together three different race teams, including one overseen by his step-mother with whom his issues are well known. Also, not only did he run his father’s number, he ran his father’s sponsor and paint scheme. At Daytona. The track his father ruled.

The track where his father died.

Just the kind of thing an insecure introvert jumps into, right?

Dale Jr. placed himself in a position where it was victory or… actually, there was no “or.” It was win or utter humiliation. Before anyone snarks “yeah, but it was Nationwide,” bear in mind the field was generously peppered with top-tier Sprint Cup drivers. Earnhardt Jr. wasn’t running against a bunch of local yokels. This was big time. Even without the additional pressure.

Who won that race?

Dale Earnhardt Jr.

‘Nuff said.

So, is Dale Earnhardt Jr. NASCAR’s post post modern man?

Only in the mind’s eye of the New York Times.

(Cross-posted at Examiner.com)