Last week, NASCAR lost one of its giants.
Kyle Busch, the winningest driver in the history of his sport, died after complications from bacterial pneumonia led to sepsis. He was only 41 years old.
Yet even as his body was betraying him and even as he was experiencing symptoms of bacterial pneumonia for “days to weeks” before sepsis set in, Busch kept doing what racers do. He kept racing. He competed at Watkins Glen while feeling sick. He won a Truck Series race at Dover and raced in the All-Star Race just days before his death. He was still preparing for the Coca-Cola 600 and was testing in Chevrolet’s simulator on May 20 when he became unresponsive.
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He died the following day.
And that is why bombastic ESPN personality Stephen A. Smith’s tired claim that race-car drivers are not athletes lands with such breathtaking ignorance.
“Come on, man. That don’t count. You driving a car!” Smith scoffed recently when discussing why he doesn’t consider NASCAR drivers to be athletes. “You can drive a car at 75 years old.”
Driving a car?
That’s all he thinks they’re doing?
Really?
Seriously?
Kyle Busch was coughing, sick and struggling physically, yet he still climbed into a race car because that’s what NASCAR drivers do. They don’t sit out because they’re tired. Unlike NBA players, they don’t embrace “load management.” Unlike pro golfers, they don’t take a week off because the schedule is inconvenient.
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No, they go to work because fans, sponsors and TV networks pay them to put on a show. And the show must go on.
So they race no matter what.
And that’s what makes Stephen A. Smith’s comments so insulting.
Not because they’re controversial. Not because they’re provocative.
But because they’re so profoundly stupid.
It’s easy to sit behind a microphone in a climate-controlled studio and dismiss race-car drivers as non-athletes who merely “drive a car.” Come on, Stephen A., you’re better than that. Do you know how hard it is to climb into a 3,500-pound missile traveling 190 mph inches away from 39 other missiles and spend three hours knowing that one mistake, one blown tire, one mechanical failure can change your life forever?
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And if you want to talk about athleticism, endurance, heart rate, former NASCAR champion Kevin Harvick, in response to Smith’s comments, told the story recently of how he once wore a monitor that tracked calories burned during races. One event showed he burned more than 3,200 calories. The company thought the device was malfunctioning and sent him a replacement. The next week he burned 2,400 calories.
“The only (athletes) we see with that much of a calorie burn and constant heart rate are marathon runners,” Harvick said.
It’s no secret, the heat inside a race car can exceed 120 degrees and drivers can lose 10 to 15 pounds of water weight during a race. Their heart rates remain elevated for hours. They absorb relentless G-forces while maintaining concentration that cannot lapse for even a split second.
One mistake doesn’t mean striking out.
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It could mean checking out.
For good.
The truth is NASCAR drivers don’t just compete against other drivers. They compete against fear, fate and mortality.
Every.
Single.
Week.
Basketball players don’t have to write a will before tipoff. Golfers don’t kiss their families goodbye before walking to the first tee wondering if they’ll make it home. NASCAR drivers understand the risks every time they fasten the belts and pull down the window net.
That reality was never far from Kyle Busch’s mind. He grew up in a sport that buried Dale Earnhardt, Adam Petty, Kenny Irwin and countless others. He knew exactly what could happen every time he rolled onto a racetrack.
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And yet he raced.
Even while sick.
Even while struggling to breathe.
Even while his body was fighting a battle he didn’t fully understand.
Why?
Because racers are wired differently. They don’t see racing as something they do. They see it as who they are.
The greatest evidence that NASCAR drivers are athletes isn’t found in a fitness test or a heart-rate monitor. It’s found in the simple fact that they always get back in the car.
Ernest Hemingway understood this decades ago when he famously wrote: “There are only three sports: bullfighting, motor racing, and mountaineering; all the rest are merely games.”
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That quote isn’t literally true, of course, but it captures something profound.
Most athletes compete against opponents.
Race-car drivers compete against opponents while simultaneously battling physics, speed, exhaustion and the possibility of catastrophe.
Every time they strap into a stock car traveling nearly 200 mph, they are accepting risks most professional athletes never have to contemplate.
Ryan Preece said it best when responding to Smith’s comments:
“I’d love for him to go tumbling 13 times, have black eyes, and show up next week doing what you gotta do.”
Exactly.
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Because that’s what racers do.
They show up next week.
Richard Petty once raced with a broken neck.
Ricky Rudd famously drove with his eyes swollen shut after a violent crash, taping them open with duct tape so he could see.
Dale Earnhardt climbed into a race car with a broken collarbone and a dislocated sternum.
And Kyle Busch himself won his first Cup championship in 2015 after suffering a broken right leg and a broken left ankle in a terrifying crash at Daytona.
The culture of NASCAR has always been different.
The week after Dale Earnhardt was killed at Daytona and drivers were getting to race at Rockingham, N.C., I wrote: “In racing, there is no sick leave, no bereavement period. You cry, you mourn. And you race.”
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Even if you’re Ken Schrader, the first man to reach Earnhardt’s car after the crash who discovered Dale motionless and slumped over the steering wheel. Even if you’re Dale Earnhardt Jr., who raced on the week after his dad died.
I remember talking to former driver Kenny Wallace, who was getting ready to race at Rockingham that week after Earnhardt’s death, and I asked him why he did what he did.
“We’re a different breed,” Wallace said. “We’re like F-18 fighter pilots. We know we’re going into combat. We know we could die. And we still get in the car.”
Even former Florida State football coach Jimbo Fisher understood what makes NASCAR drivers unique.
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Years ago, while he was serving as grand marshal at Daytona’s Coke Zero 400, Fisher expressed admiration for their toughness and reliability.
“In NASCAR, they’re going to drive whether there’s rain, snow or sleet,” Fisher said. “You know, these guys are going to show up and race every week. That’s why many of us are such huge fans.”
It seems Jimbo understood something Stephen A. does not.
You see, Jimbo understood that Kyle Busch, Dale Earnhardt and NASCAR’s other amazing athletes literally love their sport to death.
Email me at mbianchi@orlandosentinel.com. Hit me up on social media @BianchiWrites and listen to my radio show “Game On” every weekday from 3 to 6 p.m. on FM 96.9, AM 740 and 969TheGame.com/listen.
