In times of tragedy such as the loss of a loved one, it’s best to talk with someone.
So many people did that in the first 48 hours after Dale Earnhardt’s untimely death. People all over the world are searching for some direction and focus in a very bleak personal storm. They considered their hero, the seven-time Winston Cup champion, invincible, indestructible and unstoppable. For decades, he made winning stock car races appear effortless. He gave people a reason to hope each Sunday. Now, those Sundays are gone.
Since 1983, I have had the honor and privilege of covering the NASCAR Winston Cup circuit for both local and national newspapers and magazines. Like so many race fans across the country, the shock of losing Earnhardt stuns me.
æ will remember the 2001 Daytona 500 as the race where Michael Waltrip ended the all-time record of 463 starts Ð dating to 1985 – without a victory. He broke through to win the world’s richest and most prestigious stock car race.
Unfortunately, it will forever remain the NASCAR event that took the life of NASCAR champion Dale Earnhardt. That is a fact I will never forget, just as I have not forgotten my late close friend, Neil Bonnett. Seven years ago, Bonnett lost his life in an identical crash in the fourth turn at Daytona. Both Bonnett and Earnhardt shot up to the outside retaining wall and had no time to avoid hard contact.
To see Earnhardt out front in search of a win was common from the moment he came onto the circuit. It was the only place he wanted to be. His “take no prisoners” style of racing intimidated drivers and reporters alike.
If there was a skirmish in the front pack, one could bet Earnhardt would be swapping paint trying to get to the front. There was never a reason to count him out of a race. He was one of the most fierce competitors to turn a steering wheel and didn’t limit that to NASCAR Winston Cup events.
Even at 49, he kept winning races and championships and kept on walking just a bit taller than others because of his name and his reputation as a racer. That familiar black Chevrolet carried just about as much legendary fame as the man at its controls. It was black and looked mean in a driver’s rearview mirror. Black and Earnhardt seemed to go together.
But while all eyes were glued on Waltrip’s blue-and-gold Chevrolet set to cross the finish line Sunday with Dale Earnhardt Jr. in close pursuit, one could see Earnhardt going head-on into the outside retaining wall at nearly 190 mph. Ken Schrader’s Pontiac was blocked and had nowhere to go but into the right side of Earnhardt’s car.
Most of us will remember the day as we remember President Kennedy’s assassination or the space shuttle Challenger’s explosion.
During the morning hours leading up to the running of the 43rd annual Daytona 500, a host of writers and a few longtime motor sports editors sat around the press box that stands high above the Daytona International Speedway.
All week, stories had been filed concerning the 24-hour endurance race, the ARCA stock car event, NASCAR Craftsman Truck Series, International Race of Champions and the NASCAR Busch Series race. Many of those races included Earnhardt. In a strange irony, Earnhardt had won 34 races at Daytona in various cars and divisions. In 2001, Earnhardt entered his Twin 125 special qualifying event, the Budweiser Shootout special non-points event and the International Race of Champions. In years past, he had driven to victory in every division there.
Heading into Sunday’s race, Earnhardt once again looked like the man who could win a second Daytona 500, adding to his 1998 victory. On Sunday, he held the lead for several laps.
This race carried its own ironic storyline: Dale and Teresa Earnhardt, through Dale Earnhardt Inc. in Mooresville, owned the cars driven by Waltrip and second-place Dale Earnhardt Jr. In the closing laps, Earnhardt was able to watch cars from the team he had helped build fight for the win.
It was a long night awaiting word on Earnhardt’s condition. At 8:15 p.m., Mike Helton, president of NASCAR, came to the microphone and began to speak. His voice ringing through the microphones, the words were not those anyone wanted to hear. With each syllable, the realization that Earnhardt was dead made the terrible nightmare a reality. As pit notes were handed out, the bold blank ink sat heavy on the page stating that Earnhardt had died from a fracture to the base of the skull. An autopsy performed Monday confirmed as much.
During 25 years of driving on the NASCAR circuit, Earnhardt was arguably the best the sport had to offer. I agree with Bill France, chairman of the board, on that point.
The NASCAR community will continue on with new drivers and new superstars developing each season. There is no bringing Earnhardt back, but the memories we share will sustain us and ease our pain.
As I left the Daytona International Speedway about 1:30 a.m. Monday, I noticed that flags had been lowered to half-staff all around the track.
It was a tremendous salute to such a good and decent man.
Finally, some may feel it’s cold and heartless to say Earnhardt died doing what he wanted to do. So many people simply can’t say they are happy. I know if Earnhardt could answer the question, he would say he was. On his final lap as a race car driver, he was racing for the win in NASCAR’s biggest event. Knowing Earnhardt for 17 years, I know he would smile at the thought of racing to win at Daytona or anywhere.
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