Party-crashing newbie stomachs speed, history lesson

Editor’s note: Review-Journal sportswriter Jon Gold is attending his first NASCAR race weekend. The following is his first-person take on the racing phenomenon.

Mark Martin and Dale Earnhardt Jr. and Rick Hendrick sat on the dais in the Las Vegas Motor Speedway media center, celebrating Martin’s victory Saturday in the Sam’s Town 300 like a bunch of high school friends.

Reminiscing about their intertwined pasts, the three NASCAR greats — the legend, the hotshot, the owner — laughed and smiled, looking each other in the eyes and sharing memories.

And I felt like I crashed their party.

In a room full of veteran NASCAR writers, longtime motor sports aficionados and NASCAR officials, I was the one without a clue.

As much as I’ve learned during my two-day crash course, I’m still the nerd at the homecoming dance. I’ve got the powder-blue tuxedo and the corsage, and I’m standing against the wall, refusing to dance.

They’ve tried to hook me, oh boy, have they tried.

I got a lesson from NASCAR veteran Brett Bodine, riding shotgun in his pace car for several laps on Saturday morning before practice. He talked about the track, about the new model race car, about his time as a NASCAR driver.

He took Turn 3, with its 20-degree banking and menacing skid marks, at 130 mph. I took a Tums tablet.

I sat and chatted with Jim Hunter, NASCAR’s vice president of corporate communications — not a good ol’ boy, but a great ol’ boy — about the evolution of the sport. In his 30-plus years with the sport, he has seen it all. Through his eyes, I started to see it, too.

I rode an elevator with fellow NASCAR newbie Dario Franchitti. He’s more familiar with motor sports than I am — he won the 2007 Indy 500, after all — but he understands my first-time timidity.

And I walked and talked with Dale Jr., son of The Intimidator — or is it THE Intimidator? — and he recalled his earliest NASCAR memory.

"North Wilkesboro, 1980," he said, smiling, reminiscing. "We were in the infield — lot of fun, lot of family. Just tailgating and watching those old-ass race cars running around. It was good times."

In a couple of weeks, maybe a couple of months, I’ll remember sitting in this room, watching these NASCAR heroes — not my heroes, but the idols of millions — and I’ll think of these good times.

And maybe I’ll feel invited to the party.