[Occasionally, From the Marbles asks its readers to provide their unique insights. Where does the Jimmie Johnson hate come from? Who are the fire-suited people who bring us reports each week from the track? So we asked Dennis Tarwood ("Tuffy" in the weekly Sunday chats), a Phoenix-based freelance writer and journalist, to answer another question: what's it like to attend a coronation? Here's his report from Phoenix International Raceway.]
Despite Jimmie Johnson's unfortunate weekend in Texas, there was little sense of drama at Phoenix International Raceway for the Checker O'Reilly Auto Parts 500. The tension at the track felt no different than the spring race with a stronger focus on the gathering of like-minded individuals for an opportunity to consume alcohol in a dry environment.
After all, how seriously can you take a race day where someone cursed their RV forever by flying the Phoenix Coyotes flag over the Robby Gordon flag? How does that trailer not spontaneously combust from bad karma?
Not to mention a day when Brad Keselowski's two most memorable moments came when he got his first "talk" with Brian France about his driving style and when he was brought in for questioning after members of Dale Earnhardt, Jr.'s crew got T-boned on their way to the track Sunday morning. (Alright, Brad didn't get blamed for that, but that's because he was too busy ramming his shopping cart through the on-site supermarket to buy up all the donuts.)
And why is Brad in such a hurry to take over the Kyle Busch crown for reckless driving? It's certainly not the way to win friends and influence people, unless the Kyle display pictured below is meant as a compliment.
The closest fans came to acknowledging the Chase came during pre-race ceremonies was when PIR's president mentioned the names of the last two winners at Phoenix: Mark Martin and Jimmie Johnson. The former received light cheers, while the latter earned similar cheers and a few sharp expletives. Still, nothing suggested deep-seated animus; a few people just didn't care to see Jimmie dominate again.
Those people came away disappointed, of course, but not fatally so. The intensity just wasn't there for an alleged semifinal race, not even before the starting of engines. More than once, a voice groaned that they couldn't wait until next year. When you see people trading in their requests to see females partially nude, you know fans have checked out.
The racing was quality for the first 115 laps, including paint swapping between Kurt Busch and HRH Jimmie Johnson, and zero cautions. The air was let out of the place, though, when the "debris caution" was called, leading to a second caution shortly thereafter. After one of the "debris cautions" that led to yet another caution, a fan shouted the old chestnut, "Cautions breed cautions!" For at least one afternoon, it felt like Brian France was the Octomom of yellow flags.
No one was disgruntled otherwise, though; they still love their racin'. They just know when it's over. After the race, a Mark Martin fan drawled, "I love you, Mark! Nice effort, Mark!" It's not clear Mark Martin appreciates receiving the same reassuring tone one gives their six-year-old after running the bases backwards in T-ball, but the affection is surely appreciated.
On the other hand, Jimmie Johnson fans are in a distinctly unique position more familiar to other sports: becoming dynasty fans. One late-40s woman in particular showed symptoms of Dynasty Fan Syndrome, usually associated with Yankees or Red Sox fans. Sporting a pink Jimmie cap and a tasteful tramp stamp, she insisted on high-fiving a young boy in her party after every loop by the 48 car and giving Johnson a "woo woo" train signal as he led the parade.
You may ask yourself how anyone could complete 200+ high-fives without injury, but that's the kind of endurance you can build by patting yourself on the back all week before the race. If Jimmie manages to keep his car running all day in Miami, it'll be because he dodged all the wrecks as well as those infected by Dynasty Fan Syndrome being tossed on the track by people in their section.
(To be clear: not all Jimmie Johnson fans will be infected. However, be sure to quarantine those who have succumbed so no one else ends up on Junior's grill next weekend.)
By the way, the replacement for the Commitment Cone lost at Talladega had a solid run, managing to avoid the single large wreck of the day by a hundred yards. (See photo at right.) With all the smoke, there was initial concern. However, he threw the crowd the cone's up sign after the caution came out.
So Jimmie Johnson has a coronation to finish next week, Mark Martin as a well-worn spot on the second podium step to wiggle into, and Jimmie's fans have an outbreak of hubris to fend off. Still, beyond the parade-like nature of the race (and who didn't hate to see Underdog and Garfield reduced to start-and-park balloons?), some things about a NASCAR event also don't change, as proven in this exchange after the race on the way to the parking lot:
"Pick your head up!"
"I'm drunk."
"Pick your head up and walk!"
"I'm DRUNK!"
Heavy is the head that wears the crown, but apparently not as heavy as the one that holds the booze.
Thanks to Tuffy for the hard work! Follow him on Twitter at @tuffyr and visit his website, Tuffy's Refrigerator Logic, for more of the same.
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