TIM Richmond ~ A Quarter-Century Later 8/12/2014 |
Today, gentle readers, we're
going on a journey... a journey backward through time to another era... an era
when things in the world of racing and indeed the world itself, were very
different. The story I'll be sharing with you is one that becomes more
difficult to relate with each attempt. Time is said to heal all wounds, but
each time we revisit this one, it only pains me more as the gross injustice of
it all once again rises to the top and boils over in
hot, angry tears.
What follows here is not all new,
but then, history, if accurate, knows no change. Certainly, much has been added
over the years as more was learned and more admitted. In the following
paragraphs, you'll read of the birth of NASCAR's "famous" Substance
Abuse Policy and how it was instituted for the sole purpose of bringing down a
single man that dared to get sick while holding a NASCAR license. It is the
story of the rise and fall, and oh, what a fall it proved to be, of one of the
best racers NASCAR has ever seen. Some feel he was the best, but that point
will be forever moot, as this racer died far too young to prove or disprove its
validity. He died, gentle readers, 25 years ago, August 13, 1989... so long ago now that many of you reading today were not yet
born then. Racers and race fans, I give you, Tim Richmond...
Tim
Richmond was a NOVA: a star that burns for a short time with an intense light.
When extinguished it leaves the world a darker place for it having been there.
Unlike
most NASCAR Cup drivers, who get rich by driving a car and winning races, Tim
was born into the lap of luxury, never wanting for anything and pretty much
having everything his own way. Prep
school, fast cars, fast bikes and fast women were his lifestyle. Movie stars
and musicians were his friends.
This
astonishingly good-looking young man never saw the seat of an actual racecar
until he was 21 years old, and then it was not a stock car, but an open wheel
Sprint car, belonging to a friend. It
was love at first drive, as it were, and Tim had found his avocation.
He spent
a few years racing Sprints and in 1980 raced the Indianapolis 500 where he
finished ninth and was voted rookie of the race. After that year, feeling there
were still worlds to conquer and dragons to be slain, he moved on to the stock
cars of Winston Cup. Later, in
explaining the difference between the two, he would state that one
"drove" an Indy car, but "raced" a stock car, and race them
he did, almost as if his life depended upon speed.
To say
that Tim was different from those good ol' southern drivers of that time would
be akin to saying that a cat is not quite a dog. Surrounded by gruff, tough characters like
Dale Earnhardt, Richard Petty and Cale Yarborough, Tim stood out like a peacock
in a flock of crows. His expensive
tastes in clothing, food and drink, not to mention ladies, set him quite apart
from the norm, but the lad could drive!
He was
not, however, an overnight success, driving one race at Pocono in 1980, for
D.K. Ulrich, and spending 1981 driving a series of catch rides for several
different car owners, only to face the 1982 season with no ride at all. That was cured when J.D. Stacy had a falling
out with his driver, Joe Ruttman, and came looking for Tim's services. Tim
would win two races in that year, both at the old Riverside road course in
California, and managed to finish 26th in points, with 7 top five and 12 top
ten finishes, although he only ran 26 races.
In 1983,
he accepted what would become a three- year stint with the new "Blue
Max" team, owned by drag racing great, Raymond Beadle, with Barry Dodson
as crew chief. Tim and Barry became the
best of friends during that time, and together they shared 2 wins, 18 top five
and 34 top ten finishes, along with placing 10th in the points in 1983, 12th in
1984 and 11th in 1985.
About
this time, enter Rick Hendrick, who saw a world of potential in the flamboyant
young driver with that proverbial fire in his belly to win races. Rick created a brand new team, ostensibly
belonging to his father, "Papa Joe." (It was some silly rule about
multi-car teams, which has obviously gone by the wayside)
He built
the #25 team around Tim, and especially for him, with Folgers Coffee as the
sponsor, and the irascible Harry Hyde as crew chief. If you've ever watched "Days of
Thunder", the Harry Hogg character was patterned...loosely... after Hyde. There was a lot of Timmy in that Cole Trickle
character, but one could also see a lot of Dale Earnhardt, and when it came to
racing the two were not so very different.
What a
shame that the new team got off to such a slow start in 1986, because before it
was over, Tim would win 7 races, including both races at his beloved Pocono
Raceway, and sit on 8 poles. No other
driver fared as well, but a couple of mechanical failures late in the year
dropped him to third in the points, behind a winning Dale Earnhardt and 6
points behind Darrell Waltrip. True to
his style, Timmy had anticipated winning that trophy so much that he'd had a
special tuxedo custom tailored for the occasion, along with a black and white
checkered silk shirt. Although Tim never
got to wear that tux as the champion, his dear friend Barry would wear it at
the awards banquet in 1989, as crew chief for then Champion Rusty Wallace.
It
seemed to the casual observer that 1986 was a banner year for Tim Richmond,
with all the wins, the near championship and his announcement about mid-year
that he had proposed to a young lady, and was awaiting her decision. (You could
almost hear the collective sigh of a million or more brokenhearted gals at the
thought of this handsome young devil being taken off the market) The casual observer was wrong! The engagement, much like the Championship,
never materialized, and immediately after the end of the season, Tim presented
himself, under a false name, at the Cleveland Clinic, to be diagnosed with
auto-immune deficiency syndrome, better known as AIDS.
Over the
fall of 1986 he had been noticeably ill, to the point of greatly concerning
Harry Hyde, but Tim brushed it off as flu and indeed, seemed to recover for a
while, only to be quite ill again by the last two races, and reportedly looked
far from healthy at the awards banquet. He spent much of that winter in a
hospital, and then recuperated at a Florida beach house, while we were being
told he was suffering from double pneumonia and exhaustion.
One has
to remember that at this time in our history the HIV virus and the ensuing
terminal disease known as AIDS were barely beginning to be understood. It fell
to Tim's mother, Evelyn Richmond, to call Rick Hendrick and explain to him what
the disease was, and what it would mean in the end. Hendrick was crushed and heartbroken as the
full import was brought home to him and he knew he would lose his protégé and
friend. Tim, on the other hand, was not
easily done in, and continued to recover as he worked out to regain his
strength for a comeback.
After an
ill-fated outing at Rockingham in early spring of 1987, he retired once more to
work harder on himself. When he finally
returned to race a full 500 miles, it was at Pocono. Of course!
In true Tim Richmond style, he won the race, and I'm very sure that
Victory Lane still bears the stain of all the tears he shed that day. The next
race was at Riverside, and Tim won that one too, with a sad but cheering Barry
Dodson sitting on a hillside, watching his friend win his last race ever.
By the
time Michigan rolled around in August, Tim had to be driven from his truck to
the car. Sorry, I don't recall the results of that race, but shortly thereafter Tim
checked himself back into the Cleveland Clinic. Les Richter, then director of
competition for NASCAR, phoned Rick Hendrick to inform him that his driver
appeared to be in no shape to take to the track. It would be in September,
after an announced comeback at the Southern 500 that never materialized, that
Tim resigned from Hendrick Motorsports, to free the team to hire a new driver.
Now,
while all this was going on, things in the garage area did not remain
quiet. Anyone who follows this sport
knows about the "rumor mill", which can help or harm, cure or kill,
with equal abandon, and it was in full swing!
The mention of AIDS, or the possibility thereof had gotten out, and
spread like a grassfire in a drought.
Along with it, speculation generated more rumors, dealing with how the
disease had been contracted. Some laid
it to promiscuity, which it probably was, while others hinted at other causes,
but by far the most damning were the rumors of drug involvement. To my
knowledge, no one, to this day, has ever claimed to have seen Tim doing drugs
or even talking about it, but that is the one that persisted, perhaps because
its fire was fueled and fanned by no less a personage than Richard Petty. I was never sure what his problem with Tim
might have been, but on more than one occasion he launched into some quite
vitriolic speech for the benefit of the press and thereby, the fans.
When the
Busch Clash, the first race of 1988 rolled around, Tim was eligible and wanted
to drive it. It was then that NASCAR came up with one of those "on the
spot" rules, supposedly instituting a drug testing policy, but somehow it
only applied to Tim. Having anticipated
this, Tim had stopped taking his medication some 6 weeks before. Just prior to
going to Daytona, he had his own doctor run a drug screen (which was entirely
clean) and seal away the results. When
he arrived at the track, he requested that the test be run immediately, which
was done. It was announced a couple of
days later that Richmond was suspended from racing indefinitely for testing
positive for banned substances.
He
immediately requested and got a meeting with Richter, where he vehemently
pointed out that a mistake had been made, and demanded another test, which was
done. The second test was negative, but
of course, the results of the first test had been given to the world. NASCAR would later admit that the only
substances found in the first test were common cold remedies that most of us
have taken, Sudafed and Advil! There never had been drugs or banned
substances.
It was
all a mistake. Eyewash! It was a
carefully conceived plan on the part of NASCAR officials from Bill France Jr. on
down, to discredit this man, who dared to come down with an unpopular disease
on their watch. Even back then, it was all about the corporate image. Eventually, they had to lift his suspension,
but still refused to let him drive without surrendering his medical records
from the Cleveland Clinic, which would have proved he had AIDS. So feared was this disease then, he refused,
preferring to take the secret to his grave rather than own up to it. One thing
he did do, being Tim Richmond, was hire a small plane to fly over Daytona on
race day, trailing a banner that read "Fans, I Miss You-Tim Richmond"
We missed him too!
Later
that year, Tim filed suit against NASCAR for defamation of character relating
to the drug test and the false information released. NASCAR countered by
demanding reams of information: Richmond's tax returns from 1980-87; the
results of every test of his urine, blood or other bodily fluids since 1980;
records of every visit to a doctor, psychologist or counselor since 1980; and
his medical records from the Cleveland Clinic and his personal doctor in
Florida. These boys know how to fight!
By fall, the lawsuit was withdrawn, once more to avoid disclosing his
medical records. Rick Hendrick probably
summed up all that happened in the best way. "That's horrible to damage
someone like that - to character assassinate without the facts."
Tim
retired to seclusion in West Palm Beach, Florida, where he remained, with his
mother, until his death on August 13, 1989.
In all those months, there were very few visitors from the
"family" of NASCAR. Rick
Hendrick remained close to Tim, as did Barry Dodson, but the vast majority of
drivers were conspicuous in their absence, probably due to a combination of
fear of the disease and fear of retribution from NASCAR. Kyle Petty offered this statement as a
summation:
"It
all boils down to AIDS. I don’t care what anybody tells you. Nobody knows how
to handle AIDS, especially in a sport as backward-thinking on so many things as
this sport is."
For my
part, I was heartbroken. This bright
star went out far too early, and the hierarchy of the sport I love reacted in a
manner unacceptable in the mangiest of feral hounds. As I write this, I am looking at a small blue
frame, decorated with a bow in one corner, containing the words of a poem
someone sent to Grand National Scene after Tim's death. It reads:
God saw you getting tired
And the cure was not to
be,
So he put His arms around
you
And whispered, "Come
to Me."
It broke our hearts to
lose you
But you did not go alone,
For part of us went with
you
The day God called you
home.
We love you Tim
In front
of the poem there is a 1/64 diecast of the #25
Folgers car. That's all that remains in
my life of Timmy now, except for the fact that I find it still makes the tears
flow to remember all of this. Before we
close today, let me share just one more thought, gentle reader. There is a very old country song whose lyrics
I've always thought could have been written just for Tim Richmond.
"I Want to
Live Fast, Love Hard, Die Young and Leave a Beautiful Memory."
What was
not made public at the time, but came to light later, was that the first drug
test performed on Tim was at the hands of Dr. Forrest Tennant, not a regular
NASCAR doctor, but one in the employ of the NFL, brought in by Les Richter, member of the NFL
Hall of Fame... and recently "unnominated"
for the NASCAR Hall of Fame. The following tiny notation appeared on page 2 of
the Los Angeles Times, February 23, 1990, six months after the death of Tim Richmond.
"Tennant No Longer NASCAR's
Drug Adviser"
"Dr. Forest Tennant is no
longer working for NASCAR as its drug adviser, a spokesman for the premier
stock car sanctioning body said Thursday in Daytona Beach, Fla.
Tennant is the executive director
of Community Health Projects, Inc., a group of drug-treatment clinics
headquartered in West Covina.
He has come under fire for his
work as a consultant to the NFL, and it was reported this week by The Times and
WJLA-TV in Washington that the result of a drug test he administered to Tim
Richmond was falsified. Richmond, a former Winston Cup driver, died of AIDS
last August."
And
that, gentle readers, is how NASCAR's substance abuse policy was born, and why
your scribe has always harbored ill-feelings for it. Anything that can be so
twisted and manipulated to harm, degrade and defame a man guilty of absolutely
nothing, is not to my mind a good thing, and a pox on all those responsible for
doing so.
IF… and
it’s a big IF, Tim hadn’t been made to feel so ashamed of the disease he'd
contracted that he went off his meds for 6 weeks before taking a drug test, it's
quite possible he might still be alive today. In doing that, he let his immune
system sink to zero defense, and never recovered. Today, many folks with AIDS
are living long lives, not without worry and complications to be sure, but
living. If his dignity had been left intact by the hierarchy of NASCAR, he well
might be too, and THAT is the saddest part of the story.
Please
note, this was not done by "NASCAR." That is
merely a corporate acronym. No... this was done by
human beings... and you... those of you still living... each know who you are.
How do you sleep at night?
Choosing
songs to serve as a Classic Country Closeout for this tribute
to Tim wasn't an easy task, not because there are none, but because so
many came to mind. Those I've chosen are not all from the strictly
"Classic" genre, but the ones that I feel impart best what feelings I
hope you'll take away with you today.
The
first, a true Classic, is the song that became Red Foley's theme song and most
recognized of all he ever recorded. Please enjoy "Peace in the Valley" and think of Tim Richmond as you
listen to the words.
Next is
an old hymn offered today by the late, great Jim Reeves, as only he could do. Again, think of Tim as you let Jim's soothing tones wrap
you in the strains of "Softly and
Tenderly."
And the
last is one that will need no explanation. Just close your eyes and let Diamond
Rio take you wherever the road leads as you listen to "One More Day", then open your eyes and read along as
overlaying the music are the words to a poem called, "The Last Time."
Be well
gentle readers, and smile if you can. Twenty five years and this still brings tears. Once more, I ask... How do you sleep at night?
~
PattyKay