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Tuscaloosa, Ala. “”mdash; Alabama is a lot like California. It
has perfect weather, gourmet cuisine and people travel hundreds of
miles to visit its famous tourist attractions.
OK, OK, perhaps these first two statements are a stretch, but
last weekend Talladega, Ala., was the place to be for NASCAR fans
worldwide.
If you are not familiar with NASCAR, you are not from the South,
you do not like fried catfish and you probably never ate three
meals a day at the Waffle House chain. The sport is the only
legalized form of suicide in the athletic world. Participants strap
themselves into death-boxes traveling nearly 200 miles per hour in
closer confines than the 405 at rush hour.
In Alabama, NASCAR is life.
Last weekend the gymnastics national championship was in
Tuscaloosa, as was a heated baseball rivalry between No. 2 Alabama
and No.9 Ole Miss. But all anyone spoke of was NASCAR.
It started on the plane ride in to ‘Bama, when an
overweight blonde woman who’d just put away five Bud Lights
declared her love for Robbie Gordon. While we have all heard of
women throwing themselves at professional athletes, this was the
first time I’d seen someone do so because of his car.
Immediately a man two rows ahead began to berate Gordon and his
“soft” driving technique. Across the aisle a different
overweight woman declared her love for another Gordon, this time
Jeff. By the time the plane landed, the two were throwing insults
into third gear, accusing various drivers of backyard tactics and
selfish driving. Selfish driving? It was my understanding that
selfishness is the point of NASCAR: make sure your car and nobody
else’s finishes first.
The conversation was almost enough to make me lose my airline
variety snack, so when the fat blonde lady generously offered to
buy everyone Krispy Kremes if Gordon won, I hastily declined.
However, my NASCAR experience was just beginning. Talladega
Superspeedway is considered one of the better venues to watch men
drive in circles because of its quickness. Last year the winner
averaged 184 miles per hour.
Now I like “Top Gun” as much as the next guy, but
how much speed does a person really need?
To take a break from the car talk, I headed to the hotel
swimming pool figuring from the appearances of NASCAR fans that
they probably spend the majority of their time away from water and
shielded from the sun.
I could not have been more wrong.
It was early afternoon, and just minutes after diving into the
pool the debate began anew. A man with a mullet and a Budweiser
tallboy seemed to be minding his own business when a woman asked
what brought him to the Yellowhammer State. She was carrying a
bottle of Molson Ice and had as much right to wear that blue string
bikini as I did, but she flaunted her stuff just the same.
Let’s just say there was a lot of it to flaunt.
He grunted a response of “Dega,” and asked her,
“Who’s y’all’s man in NASCAR?”
She responded, “It used to be Earnhardt.”
For those not familiar, Dale Earnhardt was a NASCAR icon who
died in a crash last year, sparking controversy over the racing
circuit’s safety requirements. Earnhardt did not die because
of a helmet or harness failure. He died because he drove into a
wall going 150 mph. Thousands throughout the South still mourn his
death, and his car number three appears on pickup trucks, airports
and freeway overpasses.
“Well,” said the mullet-man shrugging off the loss
of life, “Who’s y’all’s favorite
now?”
“Junior,” coughed the woman, referring to
Earnhardt’s son.
“Junior sucks!” the man retorted, sparking a debate
that probably raged for hours as I quickly ended my pool-time
relaxation.
NASCAR so dominated the weekend that the gymnastics meet barely
drew 7,000 people on its busiest day, far fewer than an average
home meet for the Crimson Tide. The baseball game, one of the
South’s biggest rivalries did not sell out, nearly
inconceivable during a normal weekend.
What makes these people love NASCAR? One might think it would be
more popular here in Los Angeles, where thousands try to
impersonate Gordon and Earnhardt on their way home from work each
Friday. Maybe it’s the rush people get from watching others
take greater risks than themselves. Perhaps southerners just really
like things that move, which is why most of their homes tend to be
mobile.
Or, as one University of Alabama sports information director
offered, “We just don’t have as many
options.”