S
slick-nick
Guest
Three months ago I was standing in line at Papa Joe Hendrick's viewing, uncertain how to properly address his grieving family.
As we inched along, my buddy rapped with DuPont sponsor representative Joe Jackson about his golf game. Shortly, Randy and Dianne Dorton walked in. Scattered along a lengthy line of family members were John Hendrick and his twin daughters, Kimberly and Jennifer. I nervously offered condolences.
Then, near the middle of the line stood Ricky Hendrick. He was smiling that thousand-watt smile, thanking every passerby for taking the time to show support for him and his family. He made sure each person knew how deeply he appreciated his or her attendance.
I was taken aback by his gratitude. Not that it surprised me. But here he'd lost his grandfather, and remained selfless in thanks. That was who Ricky Hendrick was. And that's just the beginning.
Last month my wife and I joined another couple in downtown Charlotte for dinner. When seated, we ordered drinks and chatted each other up about typical NASCAR gossip. Shortly thereafter I received a tap on the shoulder.
It was Ricky.
He and his girlfriend had been seated in our section, and he'd taken a moment to come say hello. We chatted for several minutes, discussed his planned move into a new home and his struggle with pending interior design before he excused himself to rejoin his girlfriend for dinner.
They finished their meal, waved goodbye and departed. We thought no more of it until the time came for us to settle up. When we requested the check, the waitress informed us that the entire dinner had been taken care of.
He never even mentioned it, just took a moment to share in our lives and anonymously foot the bill for our dinner.
That was who Ricky Hendrick was. And he didn't play favorites. He was that way to everyone.
But that wasn't all he was. He was also the heir to an empire.
Ricky Hendrick was the spitting image of his father. He was kind, thoughtful, generous beyond belief. He was gracious. And smart. His business savvy was uncanny.
Hendrick, 24, was killed Sunday along with seven other passengers and two pilots when a Hendrick Motorsports plane crashed 10 miles west of Martinsville Speedway. John Hendrick and his daughters were also on that plane. So were Jackson and Jeff Turner. Scott Lathram, a helicopter pilot for Tony Stewart, was aboard, as well as the plane's pilots, Dick Tracy and Liz Morrison.
And Randy Dorton was on it, too.
Dorton was wonderful. He and his wife oozed love, for one another and for every single person in their midst. Social butterflies, they were forever organizing get-togethers with their friends.
Dorton was a genius, one of Hendrick's first employees. He was unassuming, inquisitive, always willing to engage in conversation to better inform himself. He was a great listener. Watching his eyes, you knew he was a step or 10 ahead of you.
He was a cornerstone of the Hendrick empire, and headed up an engine department that provided power plants for six Nextel Cup teams. Dorton's Cup Series engines have gone to Victory Lane 12 times in 2004 alone.
That responsibility now falls to someone else.
So will Ricky Hendrick's responsibilities. And John Hendrick's. And Jeff Turner's.
That is incomprehensible.
As crushing as it is from an emotional standpoint, this is nearly as devastating from a business angle. Hendrick Motorsports must now rebound from the simultaneous loss of its president (John), general manager and chief problem-solver (Turner), chief engine builder (Dorton) and owner of the No. 25 Nextel Cup car and No. 5 Busch Series machines (Ricky).
It is impossible to quantify the potential ramifications.
Max Muhleman, a Charlotte-based sports marketing expert and business collaborator and family friend of the Hendricks for 20 years, told the Charlotte Observer it was "probably the worst tragedy that's ever happened in motorsports."
Lowe's Motor Speedway president Humpy Wheeler ranked its devastation alongside Dale Earnhardt's death in 2001.
He's right. When word of the incident began to filter through the infield Sunday at Martinsville, folks wandered about with blank stares, unable to register the magnitude of what had happened. We hugged one another, offered support, wept.
We are sad for Rick Hendrick. He just lost his father. Now he must deal with the burden of losing his brother, his son, his nieces, his best friends and partners. Attempting to understand his pain is futile.
Hendrick Motorsports will get through this. It won't be easy and will take time, but NASCAR, its competitors and fans will rally around them, hold them in their thoughts and prayers.
As I drove home through the remote Virginia countryside, Tim McGraw reminded me of how resolute we can be as human beings:
It's the family that grieves for a lost loved one
It's the soldier who won't leave til the job is done
It's the addict trying to turn his life around
It's picking yourself off the ground when you've been knocked down
And we carry on
When our lives come undone
We carry on
Cause there's promise in the morning sun
We carry on
As the dark surrenders to the dawn
We were born to overcome
We carry on
Ricky Hendrick, John Hendrick, Kimberly and Jennifer Hendrick, Randy Dorton, Jeff Turner, Joe Jackson, Scott Lathram, Dick Tracy and Liz Morrison will all be terribly missed and forever loved and remembered.
But we have no choice but to carry on.
After this tragedy, we must carry on.
As we inched along, my buddy rapped with DuPont sponsor representative Joe Jackson about his golf game. Shortly, Randy and Dianne Dorton walked in. Scattered along a lengthy line of family members were John Hendrick and his twin daughters, Kimberly and Jennifer. I nervously offered condolences.
Then, near the middle of the line stood Ricky Hendrick. He was smiling that thousand-watt smile, thanking every passerby for taking the time to show support for him and his family. He made sure each person knew how deeply he appreciated his or her attendance.
I was taken aback by his gratitude. Not that it surprised me. But here he'd lost his grandfather, and remained selfless in thanks. That was who Ricky Hendrick was. And that's just the beginning.
Last month my wife and I joined another couple in downtown Charlotte for dinner. When seated, we ordered drinks and chatted each other up about typical NASCAR gossip. Shortly thereafter I received a tap on the shoulder.
It was Ricky.
He and his girlfriend had been seated in our section, and he'd taken a moment to come say hello. We chatted for several minutes, discussed his planned move into a new home and his struggle with pending interior design before he excused himself to rejoin his girlfriend for dinner.
They finished their meal, waved goodbye and departed. We thought no more of it until the time came for us to settle up. When we requested the check, the waitress informed us that the entire dinner had been taken care of.
He never even mentioned it, just took a moment to share in our lives and anonymously foot the bill for our dinner.
That was who Ricky Hendrick was. And he didn't play favorites. He was that way to everyone.
But that wasn't all he was. He was also the heir to an empire.
Ricky Hendrick was the spitting image of his father. He was kind, thoughtful, generous beyond belief. He was gracious. And smart. His business savvy was uncanny.
Hendrick, 24, was killed Sunday along with seven other passengers and two pilots when a Hendrick Motorsports plane crashed 10 miles west of Martinsville Speedway. John Hendrick and his daughters were also on that plane. So were Jackson and Jeff Turner. Scott Lathram, a helicopter pilot for Tony Stewart, was aboard, as well as the plane's pilots, Dick Tracy and Liz Morrison.
And Randy Dorton was on it, too.
Dorton was wonderful. He and his wife oozed love, for one another and for every single person in their midst. Social butterflies, they were forever organizing get-togethers with their friends.
Dorton was a genius, one of Hendrick's first employees. He was unassuming, inquisitive, always willing to engage in conversation to better inform himself. He was a great listener. Watching his eyes, you knew he was a step or 10 ahead of you.
He was a cornerstone of the Hendrick empire, and headed up an engine department that provided power plants for six Nextel Cup teams. Dorton's Cup Series engines have gone to Victory Lane 12 times in 2004 alone.
That responsibility now falls to someone else.
So will Ricky Hendrick's responsibilities. And John Hendrick's. And Jeff Turner's.
That is incomprehensible.
As crushing as it is from an emotional standpoint, this is nearly as devastating from a business angle. Hendrick Motorsports must now rebound from the simultaneous loss of its president (John), general manager and chief problem-solver (Turner), chief engine builder (Dorton) and owner of the No. 25 Nextel Cup car and No. 5 Busch Series machines (Ricky).
It is impossible to quantify the potential ramifications.
Max Muhleman, a Charlotte-based sports marketing expert and business collaborator and family friend of the Hendricks for 20 years, told the Charlotte Observer it was "probably the worst tragedy that's ever happened in motorsports."
Lowe's Motor Speedway president Humpy Wheeler ranked its devastation alongside Dale Earnhardt's death in 2001.
He's right. When word of the incident began to filter through the infield Sunday at Martinsville, folks wandered about with blank stares, unable to register the magnitude of what had happened. We hugged one another, offered support, wept.
We are sad for Rick Hendrick. He just lost his father. Now he must deal with the burden of losing his brother, his son, his nieces, his best friends and partners. Attempting to understand his pain is futile.
Hendrick Motorsports will get through this. It won't be easy and will take time, but NASCAR, its competitors and fans will rally around them, hold them in their thoughts and prayers.
As I drove home through the remote Virginia countryside, Tim McGraw reminded me of how resolute we can be as human beings:
It's the family that grieves for a lost loved one
It's the soldier who won't leave til the job is done
It's the addict trying to turn his life around
It's picking yourself off the ground when you've been knocked down
And we carry on
When our lives come undone
We carry on
Cause there's promise in the morning sun
We carry on
As the dark surrenders to the dawn
We were born to overcome
We carry on
Ricky Hendrick, John Hendrick, Kimberly and Jennifer Hendrick, Randy Dorton, Jeff Turner, Joe Jackson, Scott Lathram, Dick Tracy and Liz Morrison will all be terribly missed and forever loved and remembered.
But we have no choice but to carry on.
After this tragedy, we must carry on.
