Dale Jr's Brew Crew Site
Introducing Sue Holbrook from Florida and a member of our Brew Crew. She will be contributing from time to time.
CHARIOTS OF FIRE AND FANS OF STEEL
by Sue Holbrook
NASCAR may be the face of modern day racing, but racing as a sport is nothing new. This whole racing thing started with the Greeks and the Romans, you know. And the folks who flock to watch it are in an endurance class by themselves.
The motorsports events we have today would have been nowhere without the chariot races. As soon as Man got a vehicle with a wheel on it and a way to make it go, the challenge was laid down..."I'm faster than you. I can beat you any day of the week."
In Rome, they raced in the Circus Maximus, down by the river where there was an elevated bank for the spectators. Thus was born the cry..."Hey, you goin' to the races Sunday?" It was the birth of the phenomenon known as the race fan.
Now, other sports have hardy, devoted fans, too. People have always flocked to watch contests of strength and agility. But I contend, and my unscientific observations bear this out, that race fans are the hardiest of all. Mostly because of the sheer scope of the event (it takes a huge venue to be able to race chariots and horses, whether it's in 500 AD or 2007) the people who come to watch races must contend with the Forces of Nature for very long stretches of time. Creature comforts are not a priority. They'll deal with anything to cheer on their favorite. And the fact that race courses are in an oval shape gives racing an element unknown in other sports...the infield. Spectators fill this area as well as line the perimeter of the course. Pack that many people into an enclosed space charged with the electricity of competition, and it's not always a pretty picture.
I was introduced to the infield at Daytona International Speedway in 1970. NASCAR was a mere ten years away from racing on the beach. Think about it...fans had stood on the dunes contending with everything from sand gnats to sandspurs watching cars flash by flinging sand all over the crowd. The 2 1/4 mile trioval was the most celebrated and modern of all tracks and our friends urged us to experience Daytona 500 weekend with them. Husband and I were 25 years old...young, broke and looking for some fun. With visions of big, loud cars dancing in our heads, we took off for the races...five of us to spend the night in the infield...in a station wagon.
I gathered some valuable information that weekend. Mostly I learned that when you're standing on the ground in the infield, you can't see anything. I could only press my nose against the chain link fence at turn 1 to see this little piece of track with different colored streaks zipping past. I also learned that when a bazillion people use a public toilet, the septic tank will overflow. Sleep is a pipedream because cars, motorcycles and people go roaring around all night long. And imagine how you feel - and smell - after you've been in those clothes for 24 hours! Back in the day, before self-contained campers and motorhomes, race fans really worked hard!
But the thing that drilled into my spirit that weekend was the sound of the chariots...the roar of those Grand National engines. And I knew I wanted to come back...when I could buy a seat over there...in the stands...where you could see the whole track and buy food and have a restroom that worked.
And I made it, many times. Even there, it's not easy. Nature still beats on you...cold, heat, sun, rain. The seat you paid so much for is tiny and crushes you elbow to elbow against people you don't know and you're crammed in so tight you can't even bend down to get your sandwich out of the bag at your feet.
But when the green flag drops and those chariots thunder past shaking the stands under your feet, you don't care that the guy next to you is blowing smoke in your face and cheering for the wrong driver.
I made it. And I've never been disappointed.
