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http://www.bgnracing.com/news/2003/houston/072403.htm
By Rick Houston
Who's this boring Matt Kenseth everybody keeps talking about? Must be somebody other than the guy who's been making a serious name for himself since breaking onto the NASCAR scene full bore in 1997.
Sure, he's low-key, but boring? No way. Would he rather do his talking on the race track? Maybe, but he's far from a recluse who shuns the spotlight. He just doesn't go chasing the limelight at every opportunity. He's a racer's racer, so please, stop with the criticisms that he's not got any personality.
He's got personality a-plenty.
Kenseth's first Busch race with Reiser Enterprises was at the old Nashville Fairgrounds race track, where he qualified third and finished 11th. The next race was Talladega, and you almost had to feel sorry for the poor guy. Talladega? For a guy's second start with a team, and only the third of his career? You've gotta be kidding. All he did was go out and finish seventh. Seventh.
Geez. Maybe somebody should've told him that, as a rookie, he wasn't supposed to do so well down there. He did well at other places that first year, but never won and then lost his sponsor during the offseason to boot. When the tour got to Rockingham in February of 1998, not many outside the Reiser Enterprises camp knew who the guy was. Folks were still calling him Matt ``Kennison" or ``Kenson," if they called him anything at all.
That was about to change.
His charge up to Tony Stewart's bumper on the last lap - while driving a car with an odd and rather ugly assortment of colors -- was truly something to behold. When Kenseth thumped Stewart out of the way in turn four to score the win, it was as if the heavens had opened and a new star had suddenly formed in the NASCAR galaxy. Stewart was fuming after the race - no surprise there - but Kenseth simply said he'd done what he had to do to win the race. All of a sudden, people knew Matt Kenseth's name.
He and Dale Earnhardt Jr.'s battle for the 1998 championship was a close one, but Junior pulled away and clinched the title simply by firing his engine at Homestead. There was no animosity, and during the offseason, they hung out together. Theirs is a well-documented relationship that's had its share of ups and downs, illustrated best by a couple of incidents in 1999.
In mid-May of that year, NASCAR Winston Cup Scene ran a special report on Junior's rise to stardom and the marketing push behind him. He'd been the first Busch Series competitor to be featured on the cover. A couple of weeks earlier, I'd written a column about Kenseth. I was going to hear about the difference in the amount of coverage the two drivers had been given.
After the Junior special report was published, I happened to catch Junior and Kenseth in the lounge of one of their transporters, just shooting the breeze. I walked in. Kenseth grinned and almost immediately started firing away.
``I thought me and Rick were tight, especially after that column he wrote about me," Kenseth began, just getting warmed up. ``That was some good stuff, pumped me up. Then, I get a paper and YOU'RE [nodding at Junior] on the cover. The whole damn thing's about you. Something's wrong here."
Junior ate it up. To my defense ... well ... I actually had no defense. Sorry, pal.
The flip side happened in September at Dover, when Earnhardt Jr. got into Kenseth while they raced for the lead at Dover. Kenseth was furious, and it showed. He said what he needed to say, and let it rest. That's Kenseth, in a nutshell.
On a few occasions, I used to write drivers moving to Winston Cup short notes congratulating them on their opportunities and wishing them well. Kenseth was the only one who ever thanked me. Today, every so often, Kenseth will stop by and say, ``Hey, haven't seen you in a while. What's going on?" Nothing deep, nothing really more than a quick hello. But it's the thought that counts. Some who've moved on don't even nod.
It was after Kenseth blistered the field this year at California that he got in the last word. He saw me in the media throng, awaiting the start of the winner's interview. He smiled and quipped, ``I've been reading your stuff this year. Have you been in a bad mood? I'd better watch what I say."
Thanks, Kennison. I appreciated the kind words.
By Rick Houston
Who's this boring Matt Kenseth everybody keeps talking about? Must be somebody other than the guy who's been making a serious name for himself since breaking onto the NASCAR scene full bore in 1997.
Sure, he's low-key, but boring? No way. Would he rather do his talking on the race track? Maybe, but he's far from a recluse who shuns the spotlight. He just doesn't go chasing the limelight at every opportunity. He's a racer's racer, so please, stop with the criticisms that he's not got any personality.
He's got personality a-plenty.
Kenseth's first Busch race with Reiser Enterprises was at the old Nashville Fairgrounds race track, where he qualified third and finished 11th. The next race was Talladega, and you almost had to feel sorry for the poor guy. Talladega? For a guy's second start with a team, and only the third of his career? You've gotta be kidding. All he did was go out and finish seventh. Seventh.
Geez. Maybe somebody should've told him that, as a rookie, he wasn't supposed to do so well down there. He did well at other places that first year, but never won and then lost his sponsor during the offseason to boot. When the tour got to Rockingham in February of 1998, not many outside the Reiser Enterprises camp knew who the guy was. Folks were still calling him Matt ``Kennison" or ``Kenson," if they called him anything at all.
That was about to change.
His charge up to Tony Stewart's bumper on the last lap - while driving a car with an odd and rather ugly assortment of colors -- was truly something to behold. When Kenseth thumped Stewart out of the way in turn four to score the win, it was as if the heavens had opened and a new star had suddenly formed in the NASCAR galaxy. Stewart was fuming after the race - no surprise there - but Kenseth simply said he'd done what he had to do to win the race. All of a sudden, people knew Matt Kenseth's name.
He and Dale Earnhardt Jr.'s battle for the 1998 championship was a close one, but Junior pulled away and clinched the title simply by firing his engine at Homestead. There was no animosity, and during the offseason, they hung out together. Theirs is a well-documented relationship that's had its share of ups and downs, illustrated best by a couple of incidents in 1999.
In mid-May of that year, NASCAR Winston Cup Scene ran a special report on Junior's rise to stardom and the marketing push behind him. He'd been the first Busch Series competitor to be featured on the cover. A couple of weeks earlier, I'd written a column about Kenseth. I was going to hear about the difference in the amount of coverage the two drivers had been given.
After the Junior special report was published, I happened to catch Junior and Kenseth in the lounge of one of their transporters, just shooting the breeze. I walked in. Kenseth grinned and almost immediately started firing away.
``I thought me and Rick were tight, especially after that column he wrote about me," Kenseth began, just getting warmed up. ``That was some good stuff, pumped me up. Then, I get a paper and YOU'RE [nodding at Junior] on the cover. The whole damn thing's about you. Something's wrong here."
Junior ate it up. To my defense ... well ... I actually had no defense. Sorry, pal.
The flip side happened in September at Dover, when Earnhardt Jr. got into Kenseth while they raced for the lead at Dover. Kenseth was furious, and it showed. He said what he needed to say, and let it rest. That's Kenseth, in a nutshell.
On a few occasions, I used to write drivers moving to Winston Cup short notes congratulating them on their opportunities and wishing them well. Kenseth was the only one who ever thanked me. Today, every so often, Kenseth will stop by and say, ``Hey, haven't seen you in a while. What's going on?" Nothing deep, nothing really more than a quick hello. But it's the thought that counts. Some who've moved on don't even nod.
It was after Kenseth blistered the field this year at California that he got in the last word. He saw me in the media throng, awaiting the start of the winner's interview. He smiled and quipped, ``I've been reading your stuff this year. Have you been in a bad mood? I'd better watch what I say."
Thanks, Kennison. I appreciated the kind words.
