A Letter To NASCAR Fans ~ The Simple Solution
1/22/2014
PattyKay Lilley
I bid you welcome gentle readers, to a column of a different sort today. Ordinarily, we gather together here, you and I, to discuss our thoughts and feelings on the sport of stock car racing, and conversation tends to center on the actions and decisions of NASCAR, the largest sanctioning body in the sport. In that aspect, this is no different; it is of NASCAR I intend to speak, but rather than speak to the sanctioning body as is my wont, this time I'm speaking to you, the race fans... the ones whose money and fervor have kept racing alive for almost 70 years now.
For someone that NASCAR refuses to recognize as part of their all-holy and exalted "official media", I've gotten a rash of requests from fans and ex-fans to "say something", "share my thoughts" or "please write a column" on the happenings of Friday last. Partner Jim and I talked it over on Friday evening and decided we wanted no part of it, since with 10,000 drums all pounding, one more would not be heard above the din. Besides, I figured that as usual, if I stated my true and honest opinion... as I always do... I would be half a beat off with everyone else. Not so! Over the weekend, while chasing all over the TV dial in an attempt to watch about half as much of the Barrett-Jackson auctions as I have in past years on a single channel, columns about the Friday Night Nightmare began springing up like daffodils and jonquils in spring.
Dropping a bombshell in the hours just after the weekend has begun is an old marketing ploy long used on Wall Street. The logic dictates that it's too late for the press or stockholders to do anything about it until Monday, and the hope is that by Monday, the media will have moved on to something they consider more interesting. Sometimes, the ploy fails. With the dawn of the Internet, that annoying technology eschewed by NASCAR for at least a decade of its meteoric rise in popularity, that weekend vacuum with regard to news has been eliminated. Twitter, FaceBook and other Social Media carry a story across the country and around the globe with astonishing speed. Before you can say, "Tweak the Chase", all members of the NASCAR press and fandom are on it like frogs on a June bug.
Dear friends, fellow fans and ex-fans, I'm taking the easy route here and not even giving you a rehash of all that came down from the throne on Friday evening. You've read it a hundred times, at least. This is for those of those that specifically asked me to write a column sharing my thoughts... my own personal opinions, as it were... on the latest rape of the entire sport of stock car racing. OK, here goes...
There are some good or maybe even great columns out there just begging to be read. Try one by Bob Pockrass, editor of The Sporting News called "What Were They Thinking", or another by Matt Crossman in USA Today called, "NASCAR Turning Off Fans Old and New." Either one will serve as coming close to what I think, while not employing all the adjectives I might add... the kind that would tend to lower my image and to which I will not stoop.
Last week in this space, your scribe gave you a column filled with Daffy Definitions, if you will. It was guaranteed to brighten your day, elicit a smile or even produce a hearty guffaw. In some ways, it's just sad that my artistic efforts at humor were topped by #BriantheBabblingBuffoon trying to be serious. Does the man not realize that he lost his last shred of credibility following the Richmond race last year when Jeff Gordon was magically transported, sans flying carpet, into that hallowed dozen known as Chasers, making their number a baker's dozen for no discernible reason other than the one stated? "Because I can."
Quite some time before we got to this point... the one I believe they refer to as "rock bottom" in some circles... you were warned to fear the word "tweak" when it comes through that man's lips. Well, he has "proposed" a new tweak... and apparently is now bent on destroying the very thing he created with his first tweak... the Chase. He does not listen to me; he does not listen to you, and I doubt very much that he will listen to such publications as Sporting News or USA Today. After all, what do they know? Their name isn't France, so off with their heads.
He has, however, decided my life's path for me. My journalistic efforts will henceforth be applied within the field of humor, not motorsports; the best part is, I won't have to change a thing. Merely reporting on the fun and foibles of NASCAR gets funnier with every passing day. The little emperor is certainly doing his part to promote my "smile" campaign. Some days, he can be an out and out riot... but really... shouldn't someone tell him that he's naked?
One letter I received over the weekend came from a long-time racing fan... one almost as old as I am... and though the screen wasn't wet, I could see the tears falling from his eyes as I read the words, "This is not my NASCAR." No, dear friend, it is not your NASCAR; neither is it mine, nor does it belong to any fan or group of fans. For years, we have been allowed to worship at the throne of the Family France and enjoy the fruits of their generosity as they tossed us crumbs from the table as one would to a hound dog lying at the foot of the master. For the ever-escalating price of a ticket, we were allowed to watch the show, from a proper distance of course, and for that privilege we were and are expected to lick the hand from whence the crumbs fall. Beware... and be wary.
The man that reposes at the head of the table today is not the benevolent dictator that built the castle, nor is it his son, who employed the talents of a powerful sponsor and marketing firm to enhance the show and bring it to the public fore. No, this is what would have been referred to in olden times as the last generation, denoting then a family, usually a royal family, that had inbred to the point of idiocy in the offspring. You are welcome to sample the crumbs from his table. I fear them.
In the beginning of this missive, I promised a simple solution, and indeed, there is one; so simple in fact, that like the forest, the trees may be obscuring it. Get rid of him. Throw the bums out. Impeach the emperor! However you want to express it, the only solution is the simple one. Remove the little emperor from office and lock him away in the tower... with bars on the windows. This is why young Bill created the office of President of NASCAR and appointed Mike Helton to it. This scribe is totally convinced that the means are there to accomplish exactly what I'm saying. Remove Brian France as CEO before there quite literally is no NASCAR to worry about, let alone write about. Do I care? Not one whit! Not one single iota! Not just no, but hell no!
I'll write about it as long as it's here, but when NASCAR is gone, racing will still be here. Speedway Benefits, under the guidance... not dominance, mind you, but guidance of Humpy Wheeler and son Trip Wheeler will see to it that we can have our racing, closer to home and at a better price. Real racing, with no phony "playoffs" and no gimmicks.
http://speedwaybenefits.com/
https://www.facebook.com/speedwaybenefits
Brian... please go put some clothes on.
Be well gentle readers, and remember to keep smiling. It looks so good on you!
~
PattyKay
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