NASCAR is contagious, but don't fit me for a jacket yet
Wednesday, March 30, 2005 7:48 AM PST
By Rick S. Alvord
Printable version
E-mail this articleThe typical NASCAR tin rocket features a plethora of bright, gaudy, Times Square-like advertising that adorns every square inch of its body.
Kind of like Dennis Rodman's tattoos.
In NASCAR, there's the Budweiser car.
The Jack Daniels car.
The Home Depot car.
The Cheerios car.
The Victory In Jesus/Red Line Oil car (co-sponsors, I hope).
The Fruit of the Loom car.
The M&Ms car.
The U.S. Army car.
And (insert your own vroom-vroom joke here) the Viagra car.
Now it has come to our attention that Shawna Robinson, the only full-time female racer on the NASCAR Busch Series circuit, will be driving a lingerie car.
More precisely, her car will have a bra painted on the hood ---- well, at least the logo of bra company Vassarette, which includes a stylish "V" that evokes cleavage.
Since men are typically hypnotized by cleavage, perhaps Robinson can pass most of them and become the first woman to win a NASCAR race.
Hey, at least she has signed on to actually use the product she endorses. Does anyone believe that Ken Schrader purchases ice cream and frozen burritos from Schwan's?
NASCAR is one of those "things" that grows on you. It's like a rash you're not quite sure you should scratch, but for some reason you just can't resist.
So you scratch it. And you keep scratching it. Before long, you're scratching it every week and yelling at your TV screen in hopes that Dale Jr. will blow a tire on the final lap, allowing one of those Waltrip or Labonte brothers to chug beer in the winner's circle.
Until recently, I was reluctant to scratch my NASCAR rash. After all, it's just a bunch of good ol' boys with the radio cranked to banjo riffs, making left turns at 190 mph, right?
What's so thrilling about that?
Yet there I am punching up the program guide, searching for the starting time of the next Left Turn 500.
It's a contagious sport, this NASCAR. First off, I have come to appreciate that some of the drivers ---- the cast of homeboy characters ---- are cocky hot-heads who hate to lose and will unleash a few round-house punches in the pits if some jerk cuts them off.
I also appreciate that all of these drivers have been blessed with mind-boggling reflexes and robotic nervous systems that defy logic.
Should they be considered athletes? Absolutely. The skill required to maneuver a Chevrolet through traffic at nearly 200 mph is extremely athletic, not to mention a bit dangerous.
NASCAR drivers are similar to golfers in that what they do isn't physically demanding, but the hand-eye coordination required to be successful is off the charts.
So yeah, there's something about a bunch of highly-skilled rednecks who drive really fast that appeals to me.
There. I said it.
That wasn't easy to admit.
But does this new fascination with NASCAR mean I have to go out and purchase one of those jackets? You know, the really loud ones worn by intense fans of specific drivers, such as the "DuPont jacket" with Jeff Gordon's name and logo stitched all over it.
There's nothing cuter (gag) than seeing a husband and wife strut around (barf) in their matching Kevin Harvick/GM Goodwrench jackets (do they own a mirror?).
I suppose it's the same as a Seahawks fan wearing a Matt Hasselbeck jersey. If you're proud of your driver, you want to show it.
But something tells me the Viagra jacket isn't a big seller.
I grew up watching the likes of Richard Petty, Buddy Baker and Davey Allison race stock cars on "Wide World of Sports." There was something intriguing about seeing souped-up versions of the same cars you could purchase at your local dealership fly around a black-topped oval, the kamikaze drivers wearing nothing but a jumpsuit and single-strap crash helmet.
Back then, no one thought about putting a bra advertisement on someone's hood.
Now the sport has evolved into a corporate juggernaut, boasting an estimated fan base of 75 million ---- more than any other sport in the country.
Make that 75 million and one. NASCAR has officially won me over.
And for some reason, I now feel compelled to run out and buy me some banjo music!
But if jackets are required for membership into the fan club, I might just change my mind.
Rick S. Alvord is sports editor of The Daily News. He can be reached at ralvord@tdn.com or 577-2527.
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