H
HardScrabble
Guest
This article from the Wilkes-Barre Times Leader brought an interesting question to my mind.
The writer states that following many aspects of the race while at the track was very difficult but that following them on TV was easy. There are some details which might be elusive at the track, but since I started listening to the radio broadcasts while spectating many many years ago and then when scanners became available also use one of those, I can't agree with the assessment.
On the other hand I been going to races for 40 years, and maybe 'sperience helps a lot too.
What do ya'll remember from your first races?? Was it hard to follow?
The Article:
LANE FILLER
Oh, to be one of the folks in grandstands
Sunday marked my first time attending a true NASCAR race and I learned a lot about the pastime, and myself. I really enjoy divining new truths about a sport, and I really despise receiving new information on my psyche.
The most amazing thing about NASCAR? That it grew for 40 years with almost no TV exposure. This is so stunning because, in person, it is very difficult to keep up with every aspect of the race, while on TV it is pretty easy.
I think NASCAR thrived in the untelevised era because it is as much a happening as a sport. The party is as important as the race, and the journalists would have gladly given up their cushy press box and air conditioning to be in the grandstands with their friends, enjoying 80 percent less view and 90 percent more party.
The most amazing thing I learned about myself is that I cannot turn down free food, no matter how much I've already eaten, no matter how long it's been over the sterno. Again and again I lumbered back to the buffet for a six-hour-old hot dog or a piece of chicken tougher than Carl "The Truth" Williams in his prime. I was actually hoping they would red flag me.
Back to NASCAR. Even as prices have risen, it remains a working man's pursuit. Born in the South and now, exported all over the world (kind of like Krispy Kreme donuts), it is a beer sport, with a little Jack Daniels thrown in for flavor.
Even as the prices of infield parking and grandstand seating have climbed, and even as corporations have begun their luxury-seat incursion, nearly everyone you saw strolling the grounds of Pocono on Sunday was "just folks." Mostly, they were friendly folks, unless you were a Ford man in the middle of a Chevy party.
The crowd is normal because the drivers are normal. Following his victory, Bill Elliott was a great interview and a great star, giving the press what they needed and the fans a ton of autographs.
In addition, when I held the door for him and his family and congratulated Elliott on the victory, he slapped me on the back, which was oddly thrilling. (Actually, it was the very lower back, kind of like a football pat, but that's not why it was thrilling.)
It was a difficult race to cover, marred by a first-lap crash, an endless rain delay and the need for us to get there four hours early and stay for three hours after the contest had ended. Thus, the last thing I learned about myself.
There is nothing in the world, no matter how pleasurable, that I want to do for 15 hours. Not reading, not talking, not smoking, not even sleeping or eating or the one I'm not allowed to name.
I had a great time, but I am nothing if not adaptable (which may mean I am nothing). Unfortunately, I was only there a few hours before I realized I'd rather be in the grandstand myself. Of course, maybe it was the looks I got from the other writers when I continually screamed, "How you Chevy boys like it? It's too bad you can't make a living reading bumper stickers on the back of Dodges."
The writer states that following many aspects of the race while at the track was very difficult but that following them on TV was easy. There are some details which might be elusive at the track, but since I started listening to the radio broadcasts while spectating many many years ago and then when scanners became available also use one of those, I can't agree with the assessment.
On the other hand I been going to races for 40 years, and maybe 'sperience helps a lot too.
What do ya'll remember from your first races?? Was it hard to follow?
The Article:
LANE FILLER
Oh, to be one of the folks in grandstands
Sunday marked my first time attending a true NASCAR race and I learned a lot about the pastime, and myself. I really enjoy divining new truths about a sport, and I really despise receiving new information on my psyche.
The most amazing thing about NASCAR? That it grew for 40 years with almost no TV exposure. This is so stunning because, in person, it is very difficult to keep up with every aspect of the race, while on TV it is pretty easy.
I think NASCAR thrived in the untelevised era because it is as much a happening as a sport. The party is as important as the race, and the journalists would have gladly given up their cushy press box and air conditioning to be in the grandstands with their friends, enjoying 80 percent less view and 90 percent more party.
The most amazing thing I learned about myself is that I cannot turn down free food, no matter how much I've already eaten, no matter how long it's been over the sterno. Again and again I lumbered back to the buffet for a six-hour-old hot dog or a piece of chicken tougher than Carl "The Truth" Williams in his prime. I was actually hoping they would red flag me.
Back to NASCAR. Even as prices have risen, it remains a working man's pursuit. Born in the South and now, exported all over the world (kind of like Krispy Kreme donuts), it is a beer sport, with a little Jack Daniels thrown in for flavor.
Even as the prices of infield parking and grandstand seating have climbed, and even as corporations have begun their luxury-seat incursion, nearly everyone you saw strolling the grounds of Pocono on Sunday was "just folks." Mostly, they were friendly folks, unless you were a Ford man in the middle of a Chevy party.
The crowd is normal because the drivers are normal. Following his victory, Bill Elliott was a great interview and a great star, giving the press what they needed and the fans a ton of autographs.
In addition, when I held the door for him and his family and congratulated Elliott on the victory, he slapped me on the back, which was oddly thrilling. (Actually, it was the very lower back, kind of like a football pat, but that's not why it was thrilling.)
It was a difficult race to cover, marred by a first-lap crash, an endless rain delay and the need for us to get there four hours early and stay for three hours after the contest had ended. Thus, the last thing I learned about myself.
There is nothing in the world, no matter how pleasurable, that I want to do for 15 hours. Not reading, not talking, not smoking, not even sleeping or eating or the one I'm not allowed to name.
I had a great time, but I am nothing if not adaptable (which may mean I am nothing). Unfortunately, I was only there a few hours before I realized I'd rather be in the grandstand myself. Of course, maybe it was the looks I got from the other writers when I continually screamed, "How you Chevy boys like it? It's too bad you can't make a living reading bumper stickers on the back of Dodges."
