It's been a hoot, but we gotta scoot.
NASCAR This Week is ending operations on Monday, December 6, and will go offline on Dec. 17.
While traffic to the site has continued to grow since April 2008 when we came online, NASCAR This Week failed to meet its financial expectations.
We’d like to thank Monte for his generous permission to feed all his stories to this site. We still believe he’s the best NASCAR journalist out there, and wonder if the NASCAR heat we got last summer was due more to Monte’s voice than the few bucks we were making off advertising.
Keep giving ‘em hell, Monte!
Monte will continue to cover NASCAR. You can find his stories on the NASCAR page at the Gaston Gazette where he works, as well as his blog, also located on the Gaston Gazette website. Monte also posts blogs on his personal MySpace page, and he also maintains a music MySpace page where you can hear his songs and find out where he’s performing next. He also has a page on Facebook.
We also want to thank all of you for stopping by over the past few years to catch Monte’s latest, join in the comment conversation or just enjoying some NASCAR octane.
Please leave us a message of farewell if you care to in the comments section below.
For the next couple of weeks we’ll leave up some of Monte’s best stories from the season. We think they offer ample evidence of why you should continue to follow Monte where you can. As we said, we think he’s the best around.
Here’s to great racin’ in the years to come!
-- Ovalscream
Jimmie Johnson won his record fifth consecutive Cup Series championship by making the fewest mistakes in the season finale a Homestead on Nov. 21. He finished second in the race behind winner Carl Edwards.
Johnson trailed by 15 points at the start of Sunday's race. But he had the cleanest race (Hamlin spun early, damaging the front right splitter, and Harvick had a pit-road speeding penalty.)
Johnson claimed the title by 36 points on Hamlin. Kevin Harvick finished third third in the race and third in the standings, 39 points behind Johnson.
Every track has its detractors, but as I drove up from Key Largo this morning, I couldn’t help but be happy that the Sprint Cup Series ends its season in Homestead, Fla.
What better time to be at the bottom of the United States? Hurricane season is at least mostly past. The weather is perfect. No, it’s not exactly the sacred ground of NASCAR Nation (please, God, forgive me for I hate that term but nonetheless used it), but the shrine is probably shrouded in fog, the wind is biting and icicles hang from the door frames. Or, if not, it would be if the season were ending there, wherever “there” is (a quick guess: North Wilkesboro). It’s not the Mecca, but just to make up for it, everyone can stand at attention and face north to Wilkes County.
For all the criticism directed at the schedule makers, they have chosen excellent occasions, climatically, to hold races in places like Homestead, Phoenix, Las Vegas, Michigan, Pocono, New Hampshire, Sonoma and Watkins Glen. Road course in the Chase? Bring the heavy coat.
On to a few other matters that occur to me on this bright, clear morning as I fire up the laptop in a mostly deserted media center, distracted only by the hum of vacuum cleaners:
Kyle Busch has won 24 races: three Sprint Cup, eight Camping World Truck and 13 Nationwide Series. Some say he should be driver of the year even though he hasn’t seriously contended for the Cup championship. His numbers are remarkable, incredible even, but … they aren’t as remarkable as they would be if anyone other than he had any interest in running so many races and gobbling up so many victories. Driver of the year? One day, almost undoubtedly, but not this year.
Ever since I got off the plane and realized I had a rental car equipped with satellite radio, I have heard it said over and over that no driver is going to let his teammate win so that his vast, multi-car operation can win the championship. It would be nice if that were the case, but I doubt it is. If Jeff Gordon leads this race near the end, and Hendrick Motorsports teammate Jimmie Johnson can win the championship by passing him, I think he’s going to pass him, and I also think a virtual chorus from NASCAR, Hendrick (or another team), Chevy (or another manufacturer), the Commerce Department, Homeland Security and the Tea Party will try to gloss it over by saying that “the car wasn’t as good on a long run,” or something similar. I’m less confident where Kyle Busch and Denny Hamlin are concerned, but I’m still reasonably sure it would happen and it would be more fun to watch.
Roush Fenway’s Fords are fast … and also unaligned. As the Ford 400 beckons, that’s a situation I look forward to monitoring. In the Chase, Talladega’s the wild card. In the final race, there are at least three (Carl Edwards, Greg Biffle, Matt Kenseth) and maybe a fourth (David Ragan).
The rules have never been exploited as they could be today. Let’s say one driver has a comfortable lead with less than 10 laps to go. Let’s say a reset, a bunching of the field, would enhance one or more of the contenders’ chances.
My opinion: Someone’s going to have to take one for the team. Whether that means one car spinning out another, or a car spinning out alone, or inexplicably coasting to a halt on the track, I could see it happening. And even if it isn’t intentional, it’s certainly going to look like it was.
Please: Do … not … let … this … championship … be … decided … by … fuel … mileage. Tortoises done really well this year. Here’s hoping a hare wins the championship.
So, to conclude with the most overused phrase of the 2010 season, have at it, boys, and here’s hoping you don’t stain the royal robes.
The winner of the Sprint Cup at the conclusion of Sunday's Ford 400 in Homestead may or may not have the best car. What really counts -- in that race, and for the very survival of Racin' -- is what comes from the other side of the tracks of the mind: A dark woman's lucky smile. It's a Stone Agel truth which science getting to from the futurel side of the brain. Or so 'tis said at Ovalscreams today.
Crew chief Mike Ford discusses strategy with Denny Hamlin. (photo: Getty Images)
AVONDALE, Ariz. – After winning the AAA Texas 500 on Sunday, Denny Hamlin vowed not to back off.
“I’m going to race Phoenix as if I’m 33 (points) behind, to be honest with you,” said Hamlin, who is, of course, 33 ahead. “There’s no comfortable margin going into Homestead because anything can happen, so for me, Phoenix being an up‑and‑down race track for me, I’ve got to really be focused … I’m not going to be conservative having the lead. I’m going to want to stretch that out before we get to Homestead.
“So that’s pretty much my mindset.”
Hamlin is right. His meager lead is much too small to protect. Security can only come from pressing the advantage. Here’s my guess: If Hamlin finishes in the top five in the remaining two races, he will win the championship. If he doesn’t, he won’t.
If Jimmie Johnson and Chad Knaus had not already gritted their teeth and licked their leftover wounds from Texas, they would have after hearing what Hamlin’s crew chief, Mike Ford, had to say about them after Hamlin’s eighth victory of the season.
Ford was playing with fire when he suggested that Johnson’s pit crew had choked under pressure in Texas. For evidence, he had only to point out that Knaus had brought in reinforcements. When Hendrick Motorsports teammate Jeff Gordon fell out in a bizarre crash, Knaus promptly confiscated Gordon’s idle pit crew and made it his own. That crew will pit the No. 48 Chevy at Phoenix and Homestead, as well.
Ford’s remarks added an “in your face” attitude to what had been a fairly respectful battle. The risk is that Knaus will end up getting the last word. The Superman of the past four seasons has officially had his cape tugged.
This is just what the doctor ordered for NASCAR. With two races to go, three drivers still have a shot, and none can afford to play it safe. My guess is that the driver who winds up being champion is the one who wins at least one of the final two races.
It may be WAY hasty to make the assumption, but something about Jimmie Johnson's racing the past few weeks -- always just behind hotshots Hamlin and Harvick -- suggest he may have already retired his next championship, opting instead to wander the open roads of past loves and glories. Just like the Wichita Lineman in the Glen Campbell song. Or so ruminateth Ovalscreams in his post today.
Saddle up and take the scenic route to the AAA Texas 500 at Ovalscreams today, getting there by way of Washington, Valhalla and Crawford.
photo: Jim Hunter, NASCAR communications exec who died last Friday of cancer at age 71.
TALLADEGA, Ala. – It’s Halloween at Talladega, and neither Jim Hunter nor Ed Shull is here.
Where are the grown-ups going to get their tricks and treats? Beats me.
Kids live in a Halloween world in which one night of the year, they get apples and candied corn and Zagnuts and all kinds of stuff that cost a penny when I was a kid and now runs at least a quarter.
Grown-ups live in a Halloween world all the time, and guys like Hunter and Shull made it bearable, doling out jokes and smart-alecky remarks, all of which, on balance, were enjoyable. Both could, when necessary, spew what seemed like acid from their tongues, sort of like unto a velociraptor, but the taste left in your mouth was never worse than dark, semi-sweet chocolate. Both could also charm a cobra without need of a flute.
Hunter, who died Friday night, was titular. He always held positions of influence: vice president of this or that, president of Darlington Raceway. Hunter never got sent out to a pasture that would hold him long. He could wield power and influence whether occupying the crown or just telling the despot in training what to do in order to keep the rabble in check. In terms of public relations, Hunter was the equivalent of what Jake Gaither said about Bear Bryant: He could take his’uns and beat y’ourn or take y’ourn and beat his’uns. I’d have liked a “flack-off” between Hunter and Humpy Wheeler. There’s no way the National Stock Car Racing Commission could have judged the outcome. The Supreme Court would have had to flip a coin.
The two men, Hunter and Wheeler, once played football, at the same time, at the University of South Carolina, on teams that weren’t notably successful. That’s almost certainly coincidental, but one can’t help but wonder what the Gamecocks had in the water coolers on the sidelines back in the late 1950s.
Wheeler said, via one of dozens of statements circulated on Saturday and one of the few that meant anything other than to meet perceived obligations, “Jim Hunter will be sorely missed because he knew more about pure media relations, and particularly how it relates to the fan, than anyone in motor racing. He was best in crisis, always giving sage advice behind the scenes. He also knew when to interject humor when everyone was ready to crack.”
That’s a fact. Several times he talked to me when I was ready to crack.
Not as many knew Shull, who passed away earlier in the week. A pity. I only had lunch with Hunter once, back in those confused days before NASCAR wrote guys like me off. Hunter and I didn’t dine more often because he probably had a purpose in mind any time he dined. It was in Michigan, back in the 1990s, and Hunter got me together with Jim France, probably because he suspected I had an aversion to anyone with that last name, and he wanted to preserve the reputation of at least one member of the ruling family in my jaded mind.
In one way, it worked. I enjoyed it. In another way, it didn’t. I don’t think Jim France and I have exchanged a word since. I’d be shocked if he has any idea who I am. I do think the quiet member of the family has a lot of sense, which may have something to do with why he doesn’t often traffic in sportswriters.
Shull and I had dinner many times, not because there was any notable reason but more because we enjoyed each other’s company. A typical Shull confab might include yours truly, David Poole, Ray Cooper, Dan Zacharias and a few others, and it might take the form of meeting at (a.) a restaurant that hardly anyone other than us knew about, or (b.) a ballgame, usually involving a pass to one of the luxury suites Gatorade used to have in most of the country’s venues. Shull once invited me to the World Series, which I turned down because I thought my presence alone would contribute to the likelihood of a victory by the New York Yankees. I didn’t go and the Yankees didn’t win, so I’ve no regrets even though it’s probably the only chance I’m ever going to have at seeing the World Series, given this infernal world I’m in.
That was a different century, and in terms of what I do for a living and what Shull did, a different world.
A man in my shoes can’t afford to compromise himself, and that was never an issue with either Hunter or Shull. I hardly ever go to dinner or ballgames or concerts anymore with any “official” who invites me. Then again, hardly anyone ever invites me.
Everything nowadays has to be for a purpose. Influence the media. Affect the outcome. Target the market. Grease the skids. Stuff the ballots.
Most of my dealings with Hunter and Shull were because I liked them, and they liked me. They knew I was too stubborn to be influenced, and I’m pretty sure I told both of them, “Now, you realize, just to make sure there isn’t an issue, I’m going to have to rip you.”
It was a point I didn’t need to get across. I was mainly kidding. They both laughed. Now they’re gone. So are Poole and Cooper. And I don’t laugh quite as often.
Today at Ovalscreams, a rant on what makes Talladega such a haunted track. Forget Indian burial grounds or the avarice of NASCAR's founder -- the spooky stuff is looking at you from dark cracks in the day's events.
He's standing there knocking on the door of the last bar on earth, praying that Wynona, NASCAR's goddess of Victory, will let him in this fifth year in row. She hasn't made up her mind yet--at least, she's not saying at today's Ovalscreams post. But her mood is telling: kind of blue, and noir.