When Bill France Sr. founded NASCAR in 1948, he had a dream of turning a grassroots movement of stock car racing into a unified sport worth watching. By '72, he had done just that, having brought the sport from its early rough-and-tumble infancy into a regional curiosity that was gaining steam. He had accomplished more with his dream than almost anyone would have imagined.
Anyone but his son.
Bill France Jr.'s passing Monday didn't just leave the sport with a void; it left it with a hole the size of a small meteorite. While his father spent his life building what at first was an impossible dream, France Jr. made his father's aspirations look restrictive by comparison.
Over three decades as NASCAR president and then as trusted adviser to the sport, France Jr. was the person solely responsible for moving NASCAR into the forefront of American sports.
It's not often that only two people have held the leadership post of a sport in 52 years. In fact, it's unprecedented. Of the four so-called American major sports (NBA, NFL, NHL, and ML
, the closest any of them come to that record is the 47 consecutive years the NFL enjoyed under the leadership of both Pete Rozelle and Paul Tagliabue. Last I checked, though, those two men weren't related. To have a sport as big as NASCAR run by the same family -- passed down from father to son -- and to still experience the level of popularity achieved during the process may never be topped in my lifetime.
To understand the true impact of what France Jr. accomplished, you have to take a journey back to 1972. France Sr.'s passing of the NASCAR torch at the time had actually left a lot of question marks as to the sport's future. France's forceful presence in the garage area had kept drivers in line and NASCAR in check amid the creation of driver unions, rival leagues, cheating scandals and manufacturer defections.
Through Bill Sr.'s leadership, the sport had seen the building of 2.5-mile speedways at both Daytona and Talladega, a gradual transition from dirt track bullrings to asphalt ovals, and a slow but steady stream of open-wheel stars occasionally trying their hand at the sport though events like the Great American Race, the Daytona 500. At the time of the leadership transition, the sport had even taken on a title sponsor for the first time, as R.J. Reynolds tobacco agreed to sponsor the top-level series that would eventually be known as Winston Cup. Additionally, the schedule had been downsized, from the days of racing three times in a week to a mere 31 races on the schedule in '72.
At a time of incredible change, outside observers were left scratching their heads as France handed the reins to his son -- just 38 at the time. It seemed like a risky move; but then nepotism is never well-received. While sons always possess that internal drive to fill the shoes of their father, it's not often that those shoes even fit. Given all the tools necessary to succeed, France Jr. easily could have taken the house his father built and brought it crashing down.
Instead, he took those tools and didn't just make a house; he made a mansion that made even the most casual sports pay attention.
"He was determined to follow the vision of his father while also expanding on that vision," said current NASCAR president Mike Helton of the way France Jr. paved the way for NASCAR's growth. "He did a masterful job."
During his first decade at the helm, France presided over a litany of changes -- creating the modern-day points system, sticking with a consistent schedule and establishing what is now the Bud Shootout exhibition race for drivers who win the pole each year.
Most important, though, it was France who recognized the value of television, campaigning hard throughout the '70s for broadcast coverage and signing the landmark deal that put the Daytona 500 on the air flag-to-flag in '79. It was through sheer luck that on that Sunday afternoon in '79 a major blizzard kept most people in their homes, where they saw a last lap crash on CBS between two cars going for the win, a fight on the backstretch and a legend named Richard Petty cross the line for his sixth Daytona 500 victory.
The seeds had been planted, and France did his best to water them after that. Teaming up with a fledgling network called ESPN in the '80s, France paired a network looking for an identity with a sport looking to gain a national audience. It was a match made in stock car heaven.
By the time France left the sport in 2000, the TV audience had grown to the point where the sport was able to sign a record $2.4 billion TV contract for '01 and beyond. The record speaks for itself.
As the sport blossomed, France's persona within the sport became every bit as larger-than-life as his father's. While he would approach legendary drivers such as Petty, Dale Earnhardt, and Darrell Waltrip for advice and support, there was never any doubt who ran the show. Critics of the sport were few and far between because France led a tightly-run ship focused on moving the sport forward. When it came to crucial decisions he always got his way.
Sometimes, that mentality can get you in trouble; just ask NASCAR's resident Bad Boy, Tony Stewart. But in this case, it just made everyone fall in love with France.
"He was very, very respected by the people who worked for him," reminisced Humpy Wheeler, president of Lowe's Motor Speedway. "Usually, when you have somebody that strong, that powerful, people underneath sometimes don't like him. [But] I never heard anybody who worked for him say anything bad about him."
In the wake of France's death, the biggest question mark concerns the leadership void he leaves behind. Certainly, he hadn't been involved much in the sport's day-to-day operations in recent years due to failing health -- he was diagnosed with cancer in '99 and ceded power to Helton in '00, and later the chairmanship of the NASCAR Board of Directors to son Brian in '03 -- but that didn't mean he wasn't consulted for advice as often a possible.
In this age of declining TV ratings and mounting criticism, France's mere presence on this earth kept those wondering about the sport's future direction somewhat at ease. Now, in the face of mounting concern, it's Brian France who will need to turn around and work hard with Helton and others to cement the type of unconditional respect his father commanded for all these years. More than ever, strong guidance is needed to keep the NASCAR ship headed in the right direction.
It won't be easy for Brian to fill his father's shoes. But if he learned anything from his father, Brian knows it can be done.
Anyone but his son.
Bill France Jr.'s passing Monday didn't just leave the sport with a void; it left it with a hole the size of a small meteorite. While his father spent his life building what at first was an impossible dream, France Jr. made his father's aspirations look restrictive by comparison.
Over three decades as NASCAR president and then as trusted adviser to the sport, France Jr. was the person solely responsible for moving NASCAR into the forefront of American sports.
It's not often that only two people have held the leadership post of a sport in 52 years. In fact, it's unprecedented. Of the four so-called American major sports (NBA, NFL, NHL, and ML
, the closest any of them come to that record is the 47 consecutive years the NFL enjoyed under the leadership of both Pete Rozelle and Paul Tagliabue. Last I checked, though, those two men weren't related. To have a sport as big as NASCAR run by the same family -- passed down from father to son -- and to still experience the level of popularity achieved during the process may never be topped in my lifetime.To understand the true impact of what France Jr. accomplished, you have to take a journey back to 1972. France Sr.'s passing of the NASCAR torch at the time had actually left a lot of question marks as to the sport's future. France's forceful presence in the garage area had kept drivers in line and NASCAR in check amid the creation of driver unions, rival leagues, cheating scandals and manufacturer defections.
Through Bill Sr.'s leadership, the sport had seen the building of 2.5-mile speedways at both Daytona and Talladega, a gradual transition from dirt track bullrings to asphalt ovals, and a slow but steady stream of open-wheel stars occasionally trying their hand at the sport though events like the Great American Race, the Daytona 500. At the time of the leadership transition, the sport had even taken on a title sponsor for the first time, as R.J. Reynolds tobacco agreed to sponsor the top-level series that would eventually be known as Winston Cup. Additionally, the schedule had been downsized, from the days of racing three times in a week to a mere 31 races on the schedule in '72.
At a time of incredible change, outside observers were left scratching their heads as France handed the reins to his son -- just 38 at the time. It seemed like a risky move; but then nepotism is never well-received. While sons always possess that internal drive to fill the shoes of their father, it's not often that those shoes even fit. Given all the tools necessary to succeed, France Jr. easily could have taken the house his father built and brought it crashing down.
Instead, he took those tools and didn't just make a house; he made a mansion that made even the most casual sports pay attention.
"He was determined to follow the vision of his father while also expanding on that vision," said current NASCAR president Mike Helton of the way France Jr. paved the way for NASCAR's growth. "He did a masterful job."
During his first decade at the helm, France presided over a litany of changes -- creating the modern-day points system, sticking with a consistent schedule and establishing what is now the Bud Shootout exhibition race for drivers who win the pole each year.
Most important, though, it was France who recognized the value of television, campaigning hard throughout the '70s for broadcast coverage and signing the landmark deal that put the Daytona 500 on the air flag-to-flag in '79. It was through sheer luck that on that Sunday afternoon in '79 a major blizzard kept most people in their homes, where they saw a last lap crash on CBS between two cars going for the win, a fight on the backstretch and a legend named Richard Petty cross the line for his sixth Daytona 500 victory.
The seeds had been planted, and France did his best to water them after that. Teaming up with a fledgling network called ESPN in the '80s, France paired a network looking for an identity with a sport looking to gain a national audience. It was a match made in stock car heaven.
By the time France left the sport in 2000, the TV audience had grown to the point where the sport was able to sign a record $2.4 billion TV contract for '01 and beyond. The record speaks for itself.
As the sport blossomed, France's persona within the sport became every bit as larger-than-life as his father's. While he would approach legendary drivers such as Petty, Dale Earnhardt, and Darrell Waltrip for advice and support, there was never any doubt who ran the show. Critics of the sport were few and far between because France led a tightly-run ship focused on moving the sport forward. When it came to crucial decisions he always got his way.
Sometimes, that mentality can get you in trouble; just ask NASCAR's resident Bad Boy, Tony Stewart. But in this case, it just made everyone fall in love with France.
"He was very, very respected by the people who worked for him," reminisced Humpy Wheeler, president of Lowe's Motor Speedway. "Usually, when you have somebody that strong, that powerful, people underneath sometimes don't like him. [But] I never heard anybody who worked for him say anything bad about him."
In the wake of France's death, the biggest question mark concerns the leadership void he leaves behind. Certainly, he hadn't been involved much in the sport's day-to-day operations in recent years due to failing health -- he was diagnosed with cancer in '99 and ceded power to Helton in '00, and later the chairmanship of the NASCAR Board of Directors to son Brian in '03 -- but that didn't mean he wasn't consulted for advice as often a possible.
In this age of declining TV ratings and mounting criticism, France's mere presence on this earth kept those wondering about the sport's future direction somewhat at ease. Now, in the face of mounting concern, it's Brian France who will need to turn around and work hard with Helton and others to cement the type of unconditional respect his father commanded for all these years. More than ever, strong guidance is needed to keep the NASCAR ship headed in the right direction.
It won't be easy for Brian to fill his father's shoes. But if he learned anything from his father, Brian knows it can be done.