A funny thing happened at Chicagoland this year, an actual race broke out. To quote a wise man, "Who'd have thunk it"? Certainly not me.
Chicagoland, in my mind, tends to be one of those races that escapes classification, other than boring. (This actually pains me, because as a born and raised Illinoisan, civic pride dictates my allegiance.)
My impression of Chicagoland is that of your standard two-lane highway: the faster cars are simply passing the slower cars in the left lane. Occasionally, someone cherry picks the fast lane, backing up traffic a bit. Some fingers are then excitedly waved around, the minivan ultimately moves over, and the minor bottleneck is sorted out quickly enough. Chicagoland started out that way, and held serve for most of the race. The major difference between this year's Chicagoland and your standard stretch of Interstate was that a blue hair was the one actually doing the passing.
Actually, this race started out much worse than previous years, even before an engine was fired. Jimmy Fallon was absolutely grating with his "gentleman, start your engines" call. I though he was supposed to be funny. Why did he fall down? That's not necessary to yell. The entire thing was horrible, and really, it's not that hard. I'm not entirely clear what Jimmy Fallon was even doing at a NASCAR track in the first place. I'm guessing a John Andretti fan (just seems right).
Secondly, I've never understood folks taking those four words and trying to turn them into a movie audition. Enough with the histrionics, people. You aren't reciting Shakespeare or giving a speech to the United Nations. You are simply signaling to the 80,000+ drunk fans to start paying attention. Please, show some panache.
Is it too much to simply pull an excited fan, or better, a kid out of the stands to make their day?
Anyway, unlike past races, there was a lot to remember from this event. We had Scott Speed as the minivan. Having no right being up front, he was the proverbial moving chicane early on. Luckily, he spent no time getting to his usual position: dominating the rear of the field. At one point moving from sixth to 13th in a single lap, Speed was clearly perfecting his blocking moves. Three-wide racing at Chicagoland? Nope, just Scott Speed holding up two lanes of traffic simultaneously.
We saw a skeptical amount of "sliding up the track", too. This provided the controversy, the excitement, and it helped solidify the double-file restart as an iron-clad rule. Let's see, Edwards slid up into Gordon (championship caliber call by Letarte at the end there), Junior slid up into Menard (setting off the wreck that sent Speed, and Burton, to the garage), Hamlin into Johnson, Vickers into Hamlin (chivalrously opening the door for their elder), and the controversial Johnson into Kurt Busch, wherein Busch then defied centrifugal force and "slide down the track" back into Johnson. I'm telling you, those Busch boys have mad talent.
Said Busch about JJ, "I'm starting to lose faith in his ability to be a three-time champion...on the track." Thanks for clearing that up Kurt, I thought you were talking about the quality of his crème brulee.
Now, I hate to be a stickler on this one, but to be clear, JJ is already a three-time champion. Past tense, as in history. He can't lose the ability to be one; he is one. He may lose his ability to DRIVE like a three-time champ, but I think he gets to keep the trophies regardless of what he does from here on out.
Moreover, what about your ability as a one-time champion? Must not that get called into question? Or put this way, is it better to lose your ability as a three-time champ or a one-time champ? I'm not sure, you tell me.
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