The Show Must Go On?

“The show must go on.” It’s an old show biz maxim that made for a slew of truly schmaltzy movies back in the ’30s that kept stars like Mickey Rooney flush with booze money. The same mindset is still a part of NASCAR culture. Realizing the fans on hand have spent a lot of money and come from great distances to see a race, the sanctioning body will always do its damnedest to get the show in.

Perhaps, of course, I’m being naïve here. There are other concerns beyond the fans that keep NASCAR’s machine running — such as the financial bloodbath its “broadcast partners” must eat if a race were delayed to a weekday. That’s why a few years ago the Daytona 500 was run in a persistent drizzle, and occasional heavier downpours, just to get the show in, even while drivers screamed on their radios that the track was too dangerous to race on.

And that’s why the fiasco that was this year’s Brickyard 400 was allowed to drag on to its ugly conclusion. Perhaps enough has already been written about the disaster that was Indianapolis, but no one denies it was a terrible excuse of a race — not the fans, not the drivers and teams or even NASCAR. In fact, NASCAR went so far as to issue a very public and humbling apology for the farce last week. Frankly, I was shocked at that move. NASCAR doesn’t apologize very often and didn’t even do so after the death of Dale Earnhardt. My guess is they hired an outside crisis team to help it deal with the Brickyard mess and it was based on that firm’s advice (and the preponderance of evidence) it was left with little choice but to admit it had gone and screwed the pooch right proper.

But NASCAR’s apology was a thin veneer over the corporate party line that given trying circumstances, it did the best it could to put on some sort of show for the fans, both at the track and those gaping slack-jawed in horror at home watching on TV. Because of (snicker) their overriding concerns for safety — this from the organization that stages four potentially deadly “bread and circuses” plate races each year — it was “forced to throw those competition cautions every 10 laps.” NASCAR is quick to point out that, unlike the Formula One fiasco at Indy a few years back (after which Michelin offered the fans refunds on their tickets), fans on hand did get to see some semblance of a race with all 43 cars on the track, at least initially.

Thus while NASCAR’s Robin Pemberton generously allowed that even a “good fan” could feel disappointed with the sorry spectacle that they saw, they did in fact see a race, even if it was a ghastly one. Reading between the lines, no refunds were forthcoming.

But did fans at Indy actually see a race? I think not. A race involves competitors pitting their considerable skills in competition against one another, not soft-pedaling around the track at two-thirds throttle hoping their right side tires wouldn’t blow out before the next 10 lap heat was over. It became clear most drivers weren’t trying to race, they were trying to survive.

The mindset for many drivers seemed to be, “If I can leave here with a top-15 finish and not wreck the car, that’s about the best we can do today.” Some made it. Many did not. For all the talk about safety, Juan Pablo Montoya was so sickened by the carbon monoxide entering his car after an exploding tire ripped apart the rear bodywork, he had to be given oxygen in the garage. (Which begs the question, should he have been allowed to return to the race keeping in mind both his safety and that of the other drivers and crew members?)

Running the race to its scheduled conclusion just to say it got it in seemed the least desirable course of action. In this writer’s humble opinion, one of two things should have happened after about 40 laps when it became clear the track was not going to rubber up: NASCAR could have ended the stupidity and announced they’d be back to conclude it once Goodyear developed a tire that could withstand the demands placed on the tires, or the ill-considered Car of Tomorrow was redesigned to allow existing tires to survive. Yes that would have been a hardship on the fans on hand but I’ve seen fans flock back to the track on weekdays after weather delayed a race.

And it seemed the quality of the race that was put on was so bad, a large number of fans voted with their feet, leaving their seats and walking to the parking lot to escape the mind-numbing boredom that was the fare NASCAR served up that afternoon. Of course, without another off weekend scheduled for the rest of the season, that option would have been difficult, and as such the onus will be on NASCAR to get each of the remaining Cup races completed (at least halfway) no matter how bad the weather made track conditions.

The other option would have been to admit that the race was beyond salvage. Again, in the interest of safety and to end the farce as quickly as possible, NASCAR could have told the teams that they were running to halfway and shutting the circus down. The result would have been the same: there would have been real racing for the final 10-lap segment and fans wouldn’t have to have endured all those countless “heat races.”

To make a bad situation worse, NASCAR once again dropped the ball this past Saturday at the Nationwide Series’ Montreal race. No, the powers that be can’t change the weather, but when rain began falling, NASCAR — still stinging from the barrage of criticism it faced after Indy — had to make another difficult call. With rain in the forecast all week, Goodyear had its barely-tested rain tires on hand and the cars were equipped so that wipers and rear running lights could be added quickly. Those rain tires have been around for more than a decade now, they’ve just never actually been used in a points race before.

A reasonable argument could be made that given the circumstances and the distance from Montreal to the team’s home bases in Mooresville, an experiment to run the rain tires in actual competition was in order. The racing on the rain tires wasn’t great, but it was somewhat amusing. It was somewhat amusing until Mother Nature decided she didn’t like being trifled with and threw a hissy fit with a torrential downpour worthy of being called a real toad-floater.

So NASCAR had another unexpected quandary on its hands. The cars were already on rain tires and sporting wipers, thus they should have been able to run in the rain. The unique aspect of a street course, lined with walls that wouldn’t allow rain to run off the track, should have been considered. But even while numerous drivers complained bitterly that they couldn’t see where they were going or control their cars in the deep standing water, NASCAR twiddled its corporate thumbs, mulling over what to do next.

As the field circled the track under pace-car speeds, two contenders — first Jacque Villeneuve and then Joey Lagano — ran into the back of vehicles ahead of them heavily damaging their cars. At that point NASCAR had no choice but to red flag the race, a decision that was a day late and a dollar short. Now one could argue that Lagono is a green rookie and write his incident off to that, but our pal Jacques is a seasoned road-course ace who has run numerous high speed, high-powered cars in the rain before. If Villeneuve couldn’t control his car then the race definitely should have been red-flagged.

With the advances in racecar safety technology and the reduced speeds the field ran in the rain, my primary concern wasn’t the driver’s safety, though that counts for a lot. More at risk were the team members on pit road. NASCAR apparently never considered the consequences of green flag pit stops in the rain as crew members slipped and fell all over the place as they tried to perform their duties. The potential consequences of sprawled out pit crew members and drivers who couldn’t see where they were going are too horrible to consider, though fortunately that nightmare scenario didn’t play out. Anyone who has seen the violent and sometimes deadly consequences of other cars hitting crew members performing their duties on dry, clear, sunny afternoons knows what I’m talking about. Remember Mike Ritch’s untimely death while servicing Bill Elliott’s car at the Atlanta season finale on November 18th, 1990?

Even more frightening was the peril that track workers found themselves in as they responded to the two crashes — particularly Logano’s. Yes, the cars were running under reduced speed behind the safety car but two skilled drivers had already wrecked under caution, but visibility was virtually nil, the track surface was as slick as cat turds on tin foil and some drivers had their windshields completely fogged up to the point they couldn’t see the end of their hoods. Those men and women trying to aid Logano and move his stricken car off the racing surface might as well have been over in Spain participating in the Running of the Bulls. I’ll admit I closed my eyes after a few moments. There are still a few things I’ve never seen at the race track and I don’t ever want to.

Ultimately the decision to red flag a race can’t be based on the needs of the networks or even the fans. With drivers begging NASCAR to red flag the race in urgent and occasionally profane terms, the race should have been stopped at least three laps previous to the carnage that ultimately unfolded.

But again, we go back to the NASCAR mindset that “the show must go on.” It’s time to reset that mindset after Indy and Montreal. The show must go on if, and only if, it’s a good show. If circumstances conspire to make things so a safe and competitive race cannot be staged to the satisfaction of the majority of fans and competitors, then it’s time to just throw in the towel and try again later.

I recall after the tragic events of September 11, 2001, that I simply could not believe NASCAR would stage a Cup race the following weekend — especially in light of the fact that such a huge gathering might pose a potential target for the soulless terrorists who so hated America. I called down to NASCAR’s Daytona Beach headquarters and asked numerous folks if the race was actually going to be run. I was told it was definitely a go, so with air traffic grounded I threw my stuff in the old Thunderbird and headed north along a route that, at one point, showed the forever-altered New York City skyline. That night at the hotel I got word that the race had been rescheduled for the end of the season. While it was a huge inconvenience and expense for me, it was mitigated 10-times over by a chance to spend a time with a good friend, my sister and their kids at a time when all Americans needed to huddle close with the people they loved to get through a national tragedy.

The rescheduled New Hampshire race witnessed fans returning even with the late November date. In fact, they showed up in droves.

There are times when fans will understand that the show can’t go on as planned. I won’t even try to compare tire troubles at Indy and rain in Montreal with 9/11, but fans at Montreal were walking out in huge numbers well before the race was officially called. When fans that pay good money for their seats and travel long distances to attend a race are leaving in great numbers during a race as they were at Indy and Montreal, it’s a sure sign NASCAR needs to rethink its “show must go on” mentality. Otherwise, a lot of those fans will never come back.

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