to the table, there was a possibility of losing fan support. Fans build NASCAR, but fans want to see competition; without that, the fan base is lost. This change of mindset is vital for the sport to continue to grow and expand. By staying open to a certain element of risk, NASCAR realized that it could think big without giving up its roots â and secured a major sponsor and car manufacturer along the way.
Whether itâs the corporate masterminds or the individual drivers on the track, risk is fundamental to NASCAR. There are times to play it safe, and there are times when taking a risk is good, natural, and necessary. Within the proper boundaries, risk is as big a part of NASCAR as the race cars themselves â and it can make all the difference.
3
PATRIOTISM
T he sky was ominous and dark. Everyone was crossing their fingers and hoping the race could make it to the halfway mark. If only the sun would shine, the race could go the way it always went: the bright sky lighting the track as cars glimmered around the circuit hour after hour, until nightfall when drivers raced beneath the lights and the solemn evening sky. We knew that if we could just get to the 300-mile mark, it would be an official race.
It was the Coca-Cola 600, one of NASCARâs crown jewels, but that didnât stop the rain from coming. It did end up being an official race, just barely making it to the halfway mark before the skies opened up. Still, we never got to the 600th mile that day, and we never got to change the tire pressure in the cars so they could race under the bright lights at night. Yet the day wasnât about the rain or even the race. It was Memorial Day weekend, and one of the most memorable parts of the race happened before it even began.
The clock was nearing noon and the sun shone pale in the North Carolina sky. That weekend the national anthem played robustly as American Black Hawk helicopters circled above the Charlotte Motor Speedway. In the wake of 9/11, President George W. Bush had made a peculiar request that NASCAR officials were happy to honor. Despite being hampered by the rain and the tight schedule, it was no inconvenience to stop the race for a moment of silence to honor troops of the past and present.
In the racing world, everything seems to move at 180 miles per hour, but that day, all the cars stopped in their tracks at the given time, tires steaming. When they screeched to a halt, the fans quieted, and the engines fell silent. It was as if someone had pressed a pause button and the world stopped. In a place where nothing is ever still, there was no motion.
Though it was only for a moment, it was a rich one. Everyone gave their respect for their country, their freedom, and the brave men and women who fought for it. Just like many Americans got into the habit of doing after 9/11, Tony Stewart placed a small flag outside the window of his car. He later said how special it was to be a part of that moment. I think everyone else who was in the stands that day would agree.
The NASCAR drivers, fans, and teams have a very close connection to Americaâs troops. A good number of drivers and crews know people in the military and have an immense respect for the armed forces. Jimmie Johnson drove his patriotically decorated No. 48 car (entirely painted in red, white, and blue stars and stripes like the American flag) to recognize all the branches of the military and honor the military backgrounds of his teammates. Like many NASCAR fans and drivers, I also have a deep respect for our countryâs military and history, for which I thank my father, Eugene Myers.
In World War II, he was stationed on a ship headed to the fateful shores of Normandy. At the time he was only nineteen. He didnât know he would be a father someday, or that he would inspire his children with his service to his country. He only knew that his country was calling him to a higher duty that required his honor, his courage, and his