I've found myself thinking about Dale Earnhardt alot lately. That's natural, considering the Daytona 500 is this afternoon and he was killed in a crash the last time I watched that race.
I was at the 1998 race, when Earnhardt won. I gave away my tickets last year because I was strapped for cash. I'm still not sure whether I'm glad I wasn't there.
Watching Earnhardt win in '98 was amazing. I watched a rerun of the race yesterday, the first time I'd seen even highlights since the actual race. The emotion doesn't translate on TV. At the track, the sound of the crowd drowned out 43 unmuffled stock cars. Everyone was standing on their seats, cheering as if it were them in the car. The pit crews ignored their own drivers, instead lining up to shake hands with the man that wanted that race more than anything.
The shame is I didn't even know what happened until midnight. We were watching the race on TiVo, and skipped through the victory lap to catch up to the interview with Michael Waltrip and Dale Jr. At that point, I don't think they knew either, but it was clear something was very wrong when Dale wasn't in the winner's circle with them.
I remember how Dale responded the first time his kid won a Cup race. He was more excited than Dale Jr., running in and hugging him like the prowdest father on Earth. For a few minutes, his own sponsorship took a back seat as he pitched the Budweiser team. I suspect nobody at Goodwrench cared. Here was possibly the greatest stock car driver ever watching his son walk in his shoes.
Dale Jr. finished second, and his other employee Michael Waltrip won. At the time neither knew how serious the situation behind them had been. It was Waltrip's first win, assisted by a man who had confidence in him when few others thought he was even competitve. A man who ultimately gave his life to prevent anyone from taking that opportunity away from him.
Earnhadt was always a tought competitor. He didn't get the name Intimidator by sitting quietly behind other cars. His trademark pass was to position himself to take the air off the spoiler in front of him and slip under the other car as it drifted up the track. He wasn't afraid to use his fenders to make room when he needed it. Yet that day he sat behind his two drivers, knowing he had a legitimate chance to pass for the win, and ran interference. At the same time it was completely unlike Earnhardt, and exactly what he would do. This was a man that would do almost anything to gain one more position, one more victory, yet he also took as much pleasure in watching those he loved succeed, and that day he chose to leave the honor to someone else.
I could only hope to live as he did. I'm sure he had his dark secrets - everyone does. He on-track persona was decidedly fierce - more than a few drivers lost because Earnhardt bumped them aside. But off-track very few people questioned his generosity, his kindness, his honesty, or his loyalty. He died doing what he loved and watching, even helping, the people he loved realize their dreams. He left a legacy that may never be equalled. He was the embodiment of the American dream.
11:43:15 AM 
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