Fall 2010 Atlanta

Atlanta Motor Speedway. Labor Day 2010. Blue skies, temperature in the mid 80s with a cool breeze wafting across the vast expanse of track, grandstands, parking and camping areas. What a lovely day for a race!

Since it has been announced that Atlanta will no longer host two NASCAR races per season the Labor Day Race is now, not only the last summer party weekend of the year, it is also the ultimate event for Georgia (Alabama and Tennessee) NASCAR fans. It seems NASCAR couldn’t figure out that race attendance might be low if people never knew if it would be snowy, hot, cold, rainy, tornadic, or a all of the above on race day and decided to cut the Spring race from the Sprint Cup schedule. I don’t know why the idea of moving it a bit farther down in the schedule didn’t register – but, I’m pretty sure Bruton Smith paid enough money to cause the NASCAR powers-that-be to avoid using reason in determining the 2011 schedule.

Traffic in to the track was lovely. We arrived a bit after 5pm, a few hours before race time. Our intention was to rush over to the trackside stage in an attempt to see, my husband, Kasey Kahne in the flesh. Unfortunately it was a day of retracing steps for us. It took us three attempts to get out of our neighbourhood and on the way to the race. Everytime we would head for the interstate one or the other of use would remember something forgotten or needed, resulting in our slightly late arrival. Granted we left the house an hour later than planned to begin with, and then once we arrived at the track we’d walked quite a distance when I realised I’d left the tickets in my bag, in the car – it wasn’t a great day for changing plans on the fly either. By the time we arrived at the actual gate, it was 6pm. I conferred with the artist formerly know as LiverPooh (aka Bunny D) regarding whether to find the Speed stage or to find our seats. I think she thought Kasey would’ve been on early and she was also suffering a bit from the heat of the walk – I keep telling her she’s grown up in Georgia, she should be used to the heat by now – so we headed inside. After buying the obligatory programs and some lovely Italian Ice, we lurked about in the concession area under the track; which was shaded and cool. Once she gave the okay, we headed to our seats. This is our third year of going to this race. So far, I’ve kept the same seats each year. I got them first year, because the nice woman on the phone selling the tickets said they were the best available (at that time). The seats are in the Petty Grandstand. They are not too high up (a bonus for Bunny D who hates steps) and close enough to turn four to see most of the wrecks there and close enough to the end of pit road to get a glimpse of some of the action there. Typically the people who end up with the surrounding seats are a friendly fun bunch.

The pre-race concert began while we were heading in and since I’d not wanted to see Foreigner in their heyday (when I wanted to see the Bay City Rollers in concert) we avoided taking our seats during that trip down memory lane. It’s not that I don’t like Foreigner’s music. They created some of my favourite songs – strangely that did not mean that I wanted to see them in concert 100 years later – okay, only 30, but still. The music gods – or the people who planned the music at AMS – exacted revenge for that decision later in the evening.

Once settled in our seats we were quickly joined by a man with a rebel flag cap who was swaying drunkenly every time he stood. He was very enthusiastic about the race, yelling, “Let’s get the race started. Let’s go!” every so often to no one in particular (or maybe to the people in the campground to whom he kept waving and gesturing). Eventually some of the people behind us started yelling, which would get his attention and cause him to stumble over to shake their hands. They were doing it for pure entertainment value, but when the drunken guy started wanting to make drunken conversation they realised their mistake and refrained from attracting his attention again. Eventually he became excited when he realized that we were all rednecks and seemingly tried to rally everyone to cheer this fact with him. The nice Latina woman in front of us who was sitting next to the drunken self-proclaimed redneck eventually became frightened of his antics and switched seats with her boyfriend. Pre-race events rolled on with too many speeches and other boring stuff and the loud, hoarse announcer promised Driver Introductions. Eventually we were told to stand for the unfurling of the flag and a song “I Pledge My Allegiance”. This is when the music gods took their revenge. Remember I like the Bay City Rollers, so I’m no stranger to cheese – this song was cheesier than homemade nachos. After suffering through that we were once again promised driver introductions. Eventually driver introductions were finally underway with the crowd cheering for their favourites (Dale Jr., David Ragan, Reed Sorenson, and Tony Stewart garnering the most) and booed their ‘villains’ (Kyle Busch, Jeff Gordon, Jimmie Johnson and Kevin Harvick receiving the lion’s share). Since I was attired in my new 48 shirt and my older 48 hat, I was competing with the boos while cheering on my driver. Thankfully, I was not alone, since my voice has never been quite as strong as I would like in situations such as these. Bunny D cheered for her driver, Carl Edwards, and her other driver (or something) Clint “My Butt has Power” Bowyer. Now, while Jimmie Johnson is my driver, without a doubt. I appreciate other drivers and will cheer for them including Kasey Kahne (if you don’t cheer for your husband who will you cheer for), Michael Carl Edwards, Clinton “Bubble Butt” Bowyer, BooBoo Dale Jr., Big Daddy Jeff Gordon, Smoke – Tony Stewart, The Mayor Jeff Burton, Martin “Hottie” Truex Jr., Scott “Spankboy” Speed, Denny “Hot as Hell” Hamlin and others. I’m a fan of various drivers for various reasons (nicknames may or may not tell the whole story). So I happily cheered my faves and booed a few. There are a few drivers that are really on my bad side and they are the ones who draw my boos. Many, like the David Ragans, Reed Sorensons, and Matt Kenseths, don’t inspire enough interest to get booed or cheered. But the others, like Greg Biffle and Kurt Busch require me to show my displeasure with resounding boos (though not as resounding as I’d prefer due to my general lack of loudness).

After the introductions, presentation of checks and way too much talking, a recording of the National Anthem began. Over the past few weeks that song has been tortured by various and sundry before the races. Yesterday the song was presented, at the Nationwide Race, in a delightful fashion by a ‘show choir’. Before the Sprint Cup Race, the big event of the weekend, the Star Spangled Banner is performed by A Recording???????????????????? I mean, it was better than Foreigner performing the song, or that horrible group who tortured us with I Pledge My Allegiance, but it seemed a bit tacky and took me back to my days attending professional wrestling events. Once that was over, the command to start engines was given by the 500th heart transplant recipient of the race sponsoring hospital. It was rather mild for a man with a new heart, if you ask me, but I’m not always a sucker for a sweet story and I like my race command to be loud and growly. Mild-mannered men, saying fire your engines mildly, leaves me cold.

The rumble began and the parade laps soon followed. The sight, sound and feel of those cars leaves me breathless. I have always loved cars, from a child kicking tires on car lots with my father, and these highly tuned powerful works of precision touch my soul. Earplugs in place the excitement began to build to a fever pitch and was released with a wild cheer as the green flag waved. The race was FINALLY underway.

The crowd was on their feet as we watched Denny Hamlin fight off Ryan Newman to lead the race. As the green flag laps ticked off, the excitement descended like the sun and the temperature. For 160 grueling laps the cars went around with few notable changes in position. Most people grew bored and settled back in their seats like they were sitting on their sofas at home. I listen to NASCAR radio on Sirius occasionally and most of the racing folk like to talk about how great long green flag racing is. They also say their racing fans so they know what fans like. They’re apparently a very different kind of racing fan than I am (and than most of the people sitting around me). I was drawn to the sport for the action. Watching 43 drivers circle a track, mostly single file, for 100+ laps does not qualify as action. When people propose changes to races, they always say shorten the races. I disagree. Don’t shorten the races, just make sure they are full of action. Now I’m not saying there should be more wrecks. There was a period later in the race when three drivers were battling for the lead, lap after lap, and at various times throughout each lap it appeared the lead would change, that was action. Now the fact that it was also toward the end of the race, thereby making the lead changes more relevant to the outcome seems to give creedence to the ‘shorten the race’ crowd, but it doesn’t have to. Simply restructuring the points given during the race could cause the same sort of excitement throughout. There were spins and wrecks. They were visually stimulating and real human drama. There were engine failures, also visually stimulating and also providing some human drama. Variety helps increase the excitement, entertainment and interest in anything. Yes, there were more than 80 lead changes at Talladega this year. Who Cares!!! That is typically my favourite race of the year and I was bored silly. I am not looking forward to the upcoming Talladega race as a result. Now the all-knowing Sirius folks raved about that race. Initially fans called in to say, yeah, there were a lot of lead changes, but so what, but eventually, as always happens, their voices were drowned out by the sycophants who parrot every idea thrown out by the staff (I can’t bring myself to even call them hosts or announcers) of the various radio shows on Sirius NASCAR Radio. 100 laps of green flag racing, without changing something, is just plain boring. It appears that is one of the things the return of the spoiler has created – more green flag boring laps.

Eventually there was a caution. Most people around me were surprised and wondering why there was a caution. They had become so accustomed to nothing much happening, I don’t think anyone was paying close enough attention to actually see David Ragan’s spin. I certainly didn’t and had to wait for the replay on the Sprint Vision screen. By the way, the scoring pylon appears to have been moved for the race and it is in a much better location for people in my area and was a welcome addition to my race evening. It also appeared the Sprint Vision screen was moved over just a bit, resulting in the same helpful/welcome change. A restart was finally in the cards. Now, I have to say, I’m not a big fan of the double-file-restart-shoot-out-style (I cringe every time Larry McReynolds utters that phrase, and find that I hear his annoying voice every time anyone else utters that phrase), but a restart at least provided the opportunity for some action.