There’s something about the sound of scraping paint with a car racing at 150 mph that strikes a chord deep inside our inner Bubba.
NASCAR is our No. 1 guilty sports pleasure.
It’s us. Loud. Proud. Hard-charging. The sport is as pure Americana as a state fair. The noise that NASCAR makes is as intoxicating as a sugar buzz.
“It’s the racing,” said reigning Daytona 500 champ Ryan Newman, explaining why NASCAR always makes us look. “It’s door-handle-to- door-handle racing, as my Dad and I used to call it when we played with our slot-car track.”
Slot cars on steroids. Now that’s a toy that will sell in the USA.
We are a NASCAR nation. There’s no fighting it.
Sorry, Danica Patrick. In terms of a motorsport hero who really gets American hearts revving, you ain’t nothing but a pretty face. Hand Kyle Busch the keys. Right now, he’s the man in U.S. auto racing.
And can we please stop pretending pro hockey really matters anywhere in the United States outside of Detroit, Denver and 1,000 frozen ponds in Minnesota? Tell me, who would be more recognized on the streets of New York City: Jeff Gordon or Sidney Crosby?
Sure, football, baseball and basketball remain the Big Three on sofas throughout the country. But without Tiger Woods, golf is a bore.
Our fourth major sport is NASCAR.
Put it this way: What else can make a Toyota Camry look sexy?
From the nation’s most hallowed racetrack to the White House, the horsepower and spending power of NASCAR Dads create thunder too loud to ignore.
As NASCAR rowdies again take over the speedway that made the Indianapolis 500 famous for today’s running of the Allstate 400 at the Brickyard, stock-car racers have made themselves very much at home in welcoming family rooms across the country.
Tony Stewart, the defending champ at Indy, sees himself as more than a driver. He’s a sports icon whose mug plays in Peoria and sells on Madison Avenue.
“Kind of like the Geico Gecko,” Stewart said.
Newman grew up in Indiana, the U.S. capital of open-wheel racing, from midgets to Indy cars. So how the heck did a Hoosier get hooked on NASCAR?
“It was the side-by-side action, sometimes straight- away, sometimes four-wide, and you didn’t see that in other major racing series,” Newman said.
“Obviously, the money’s not a bad thing. But as far as just pure racing at the highest level, NASCAR has always been it in my eyes.”
Full disclosure: I was born in Indiana, back in the day when the Hoosier sports landscape was a collection of snapshots highlighted by a basketball hoop hanging on the side of a barn, Touchdown Jesus leading the faithful at Notre Dame games and midget racers raining dirt on happily screaming spectators.
The Indianapolis 500 was so much a part of my childhood that I was taught A.J. Foyt was every bit as much of a national sports hero as Mickey Mantle.
So 15 years after those NASCAR boys first kissed the bricks at a racetrack that’s a landmark with every bit the enduring strength of Lambeau Field or Fenway Park, the stock-car guys have long ceased to be taxi drivers trespassing on Foyt’s open-wheel turf.
The most-talented, most-competitive, most-popular racers to test their skills at the Brickyard every year can no longer be found starting their engines on Memorial Day weekend.
The NASCAR boys have ascended to the point where Busch, Gordon and Stewart are the real kings at Indy.
Why’s that so important to how we view sports in this country?
We are a NASCAR nation. There’s no fighting it.
Whether you’re programming sports for a TV network or running for president of the United States, if you aren’t ready to scrape paint at 150 mph, you aren’t tough enough for the job.
Mark Kiszla: 303-954-1053 or mkiszla@denverpost.com
NASCAR sprint cup
Allstate 400 At The Brickyard
Site: Indianapolis
Schedule: Today, 11 a.m., ESPN
Track: Indianapolis Motor Speedway (rectangular oval, 2.5 miles)
Race distance: 400 miles, 160 laps
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