Photo (c)2012, Paul Webb LAT Photo USA via the Ford Motor Company
Last weekend, we experienced what motorsport is all about.
The 50th running of the Rolex 24 Hours at Daytona reaffirmed that true competition amongst drivers and machines can be achieved when it is engaging and exciting for everyone involved. When the fans are engaged, the drivers, the teams and the vehicles become an integral part of the experience – either at the track or away from it.
After the deaths of IndyCar star Dan Wheldon and superbike racer Marco Simoncelli, there was concern whether motorsport would recover and in what shape they will take in the coming season. Add the sometimes moronic behavior of some of stars of the NASCAR Sprint Cup circuit, and even the most fickle fan would be spurned away.
Some of the behavior seen in and around the top tier of NASCAR is not unlike what I’ve witnessed on the same level of the sports I used to enjoy. For every Busch brother, there’s a Miguel Cabrera, Chad Johnson and Jean-Francois Jacques making a mockery of the world of sport. It was to the point where I no longer have respect for the game my mother raised me to love – thanks to the likes of Bud Selig, Ozzie Guillen and Nyjer Morgan.
In 1970, I remember watching the Daytona 500 and loved the fact that familiar cars were running around the super oval and great speeds with competition in mind. I was naïve to know the intricacies and dramas that permeated the days when NASCAR’s Grand National circuit began to mature towards the Winston Cup. Later that year, it was the Indianapolis 500 with the Brickyard in full pomp and circumstance. It was a time when you gravitated to Mario Andretti and the Unser brothers for USAC sanctioned open wheel warfare.
Those were the days.
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Commentary: The Story Continues…
Photo by Randy Stern
Today is Super Bowl Sunday…for most of us.
For me, it is just another Sunday. Actually, this date is a historic one normally marked annually by some magical event that occurred at dawn on this date 48 years ago.
Somewhere along the Ventura Freeway at a hospital on Balboa Boulevard in Encino, California, a baby boy was born to a Barbara Jean Stern and her husband Sheldon. He was a healthy infant – a bit chubby, but no signs of immediate health issues. They brought him home…and the rest is, well, history.
There is a tinge of embarrassment in telling this story. I’m getting to an age where birthdays become somewhat meaningless. Don’t get me wrong, I have no qualms about celebrating it. It’s just that it doesn’t have the cache as it once had.
Of course, I’ll say this now and my 50th comes up in two years…black balloons, coffin cakes and all.
I still believe in trying to do something special on this day. Continue reading →