The story of Chicago continues.. if you have not read part one... click here!
Thursday morning, I left the Hilton Chicago and boarded a train south to recapture the past and zoom into the present and future. The Rock Island Line traverses through neighborhoods that range from those that look like they need some love to those right out of a John Hughes movie (Uncle Buck, Ferris Buehler). The hour and 25 minute ride was not on the express route, so I saw every little detail.
About 15 years ago, when making a connection in Charlotte, I made a phone call to one of my closest friends from high school, Tad. At the time, he was working for Proctor and Gamble. When I made that same connection with my new family in tow 10 years ago, Tad had moved into a new venture, and invited me to his new office. The catch was that we kept missing each other in person, as he was always traveling on business.
Tad’s “new venture” is now matured into a full fledged NASCAR operation, with two teams in the Nationwide Series, preparing for a Sprint Cup run next year. During an e-mail conversation a few years ago, Tad invited me to a race, and with the IDEA Conference happening the same week, finally the stars had aligned.
As I set foot off the train, bags in hand, there was Tad, looking pretty much like he did in high school. Okay, we both had matured (gained a little weight – he less than I) but still, it was as though time had stood still. He was in the middle of his business day, which meant there was no time to stand still. The destination was my home for the weekend – Chicagoland Speedway.
As soon as we reached the infield and picked up my credentials, I dropped my bags at the RV. Tad tosses me a Kingsford Racing hat and we headed right over to the garage where he introduced me to everyone. Right and left, handshakes… Greg, Scott, Turtle, and dozens of others… and then Kelly Bires and Marcos Ambrose, the drivers of the 47 and 59.
Airguns were whirring, jacks were going up and down, engines were starting. The atmosphere was electric. As we sat in the hauler, which serves as part storage, part shop, part team headquarters, a very tall man comes in and sits down next to me. I recognized him immediately, although he introduced himself right away.
“Brad Daugherty, nice to meet you.”
The former NBA and UNC hoops star is now with ESPN and involved with NASCAR, and he and Tad have been long time friends. Business was being spoken all around me from sponsorships to tech talk, I was being immersed in the world of racing in a big way. He handed me a headset and said, it’s time for practice, whereby we headed up for the spotters’ tower.
Marcos Ambrose can read a car like most people read a classic novel. With every turn, he knows where one act ends and the next scene begins. Unlike most books, this one is being written just words before being read, and through the headsets, I heard perfect comprehension.
Following the rained out second practice, Marcos shared another talent with me. He cooked dinner! Nothing like having a dinner cooked by someone you will watch on TV for the next many weeks.
Following the great spaghetti caserole, Tad and I spent the evening in the RV recapturing the last 27 years. We had spoken many times, but this was the first time we had actually had the chance to see each other.
You know the people that you see at a reunion that haven’t changed. Tad is one of those people. Every bit of intelligence, humor, and calmness was still there. He always looked like he was tired, but this was a focused man, with a million things on his mind, and challenges too numerous to mention.
That night, we ventured out to see the fan festival that is NASCAR. Gretchen Wilson was set to perform, and we took a golf cart out to the party zone. As we were walking around, and Gretchen was taking the stage, a wall of black the likes of which I had never seen approached. We rushed back to the golf cart, and it hit. A severe thunderstorm swept through the area. Thousands scampered, and we were in a golf cart trying to get back to the RV that was our weekend home. We were drenched by the time we made it back. Record rainfall hit the area, and I thought we were going to end up in Kansas. Tad just laughed. He said this is about an every night occurrence in the south and midwest. I had forgotten.
We woke up. The RV was still there, and so were we. It was a fantastically beautiful, but sweltering. Race day was upon us. Tad spent the day in meetings. I spent the day going behind the scenes. Stops included the ESPN studio with Brad Daugherty, the tech meetings, garage adjustments, tech inspection, pit road, and the air conditioned comfort of the RV. Okay, that last one was just for survival.
At 5 pm, the drivers and sponsors arrived at the RV for dinner. Roy and the crew had cooked up a great BBQ with burgers and hot dogs. Pictures with Tad and both drivers were part of the festivities and I picked up some autographs for the kids. It was about that time that Tad asked me what I wanted to do for the race. My choices… be a member of the Pit Crew as a tire catcher or help him be a spotter high above the race. I said “pit crew? Are you kidding me? What happens if I mess up?”
Calmly he said it would be a one lap penalty if I missed the tire, and I said calmly, I think I will go up with you and spot. The thrill of just being asked was enough, but my heart couldn’t take the possibility of messing up catching a red hot tire that weighs about 85 pounds.
Seeing the race from the spotters’ perch is a different experience. You don’t watch a race like you would on tv. You concentrate on one driver, examining his every move, being his eyes for what surrounds him and what is approaching. Listening to the communications between Tad and Marcos sounded so simple, yet so important. As Marcus would prepare to pass a driver, the verbiage was short and sweet.
“Outside. Outside. Got him. Door. Quarter. Bumper. Clear, Clear.”
I always laughed at the repitition of Clear Clear, but it is just the way it’s done.
As the 59 prepares to pit, Tad counts down the pit stalls to where Marcos has to stop.
“3700, entering, 3, 2, 1 your in.”
The Kingsford team finished 15th. Marcos was running the same time or better than the leader for the last half of the race, but track position was not on his side. 100 laps, and not a wreck, and only one spin. It looked more like a parade, but with all the strategy, it had its drama.
Following the race, we went down on the track, then to the garage area where the teams packed up faster than you could imagine. Within an hour after the race, nearly everything was loaded in the hauler with military precision. And with it, my friend Tad said his goodbye.
Some of you might be wondering why my friend would be leaving after his friend who traveled 2000 miles to see him. It was his wife’s birthday, and he wanted to be home. It is one of the things I like the most about Tad – his unwavering loyalty. He was very apologetic. I said, please think nothing of it… in this business, family time the exception, not the rule.
I slept by myself in the RV… and again, a gully washer hit. Not as bad, but pretty big.
Cup day, and there was not much to do but relax. Tad did not have a driver in the race, so it was laid back. However, the Air Force Car, the 21, driven by Bill Elliott, was marketed by Tad’s company.
About two pm or should I say 1400 hours, the men in blue arrived, including a 3 Star General. Many “Sirs” were exchanged, and everyone was incredibly nice, especially Lt Col. Traughber, who talked helped guide me through who was whom. I was introduced to everyone as “Tad’s friend.” It seemed to make a lot of sense to everyone. I did not feel like I was out of place, as everyone greeted me and treated me like a VIP.
One problem though made things interesting. I was there on a Nationwide pass, which meant for all intents and purposes I should have not been there. Since I was living in the RV, they weren’t going to check for anything, but it also meant that the Driver/Owner lot was like my country, with no passport. If I left, I might not have returned. I was very comfortable with my surroundings and they fed me well again so it was all great. My seat for the race would be on top of the RV, and that was perfect for me.
All the others were shuttled off to the pits and garage for tours and pictures and tons of autographs. My son had asked me all weekend if I had seen Jimmie Johnson, his favorite driver. The group had that opportunity. I was in Nationwideville with no visa out. Until Troy came along.
Troy is one of the sponsorship people for JTG Racing, Tad’s company. It was his job to take care of the sponsors to make them feel like they had the most incredible experience at every race. He led the garage tours (along with two others) and shook a lot of hands. He came up to me and said “I’m trying.” I asked him what he was trying. He said, “I’m working on it.”
Unbeknownst to me, he was working on a pass for me to go to the garage and pits. He borrowed one and said, “Let’s go!” Off we went to the garages, but he said to follow him closely. There we were, on pit road and he asked me who I wanted to see. So I had my picture taken with some of the cars… until there is was – the 48. It was not Jimmie himself, but the car! I thought my son would at least be impressed.
Back to the RV for the race. I stood on top of the RV and had the perfect 360 degree view of the race. I could see everything on the track except the actual pit stops. Happily, the RV below me had their TV tuned to the race. Roy, the driver of the RV and one of the nicest people I have ever met, set me up with a scanner to hear all the communications. I was ready.
The vroom of the race and the prerace flyover was pretty deafening (still not as loud as the Cubby Bear, or so it seemed.) I listened to different drivers and spotters channels, but I felt lost. I was able to find the MRN radio broadcast, and suddenly, I knew just where to look. There was another benefit as well.
Brook, my new friend from Sprint Vision at the IDEA conference, had told me that listening to MRN on the scanner meant hearing the backhaul. Instead of commercials, I could hear the banter between commentators. She said it would be amazing. It was. If anyone is looking for a cast for a comedy show, look no further than these guys.
As soon as Amanda, the producer, said “clear,” the action began.
“I ate 5 of the Jim Beam chap sticks, and didn’t feel a thing! I guarantee you my intestines will never get chapped!”
“Did you sign an affadavit?... No, but I will happily have one of those with an extra shot after the race.”
Kyle Busch and Jimmie Johnson raced side by side for the final laps including the Green, White, Checkered finish, when Busch (who I might add is waaaaay more unpopular than his Presidential namesake – I’m not kidding) pulled away for the win.
After the race, I was glowing… and worn out. Roy would be my roomie for the final evening, and we had a nice chat. With Roy, you never have to search for a topic, and that’s a good thing. About midnight, with fireworks popping from the revelers who still wanted to party, it was time to call it a night.
Sunday morning, and the crew got some news. The track manager told the RV drivers unexpectedly that they needed to vacate the premises by three. They all thought they were not going to leave until Monday as their next destination was St. Louis, but they couldn’t pull in there until later in the week. So my ride to the train station by Roy was now going to be two hours early.
There is nothing open in Downtown Joliet on Sunday. So I had nothing to do, until I heard music playing from the beautiful ball park across the street from the station. Silver Cross Field is the home to the minor league Joliet Jackhammers, but on this day, it was American Legion ball. It gave me the opportunity to raise the number of facilities I toured on my trip to 6, and give my customary phone call to my best friend.
So now, it’s time to go home. As I am typing this, I am on the train from Joliet to Chicago (we are leaving Oak Park now and the doors are about to close!) From there, I will catch a CTA L to O’Hare and have about a 3 hour wait for my plane. I will take the time to have a big meal before getting on the plane to head home. From start to finish, it will be about a 14 hour journey.
I’ll be happy to hit my own bed tonight (my pillow took the trip with me so we don’t need to be reintroduced.) The nicest part though will be seeing my wife and kids after being gone for eight days.
Chicago will hold a very dear place in my heart forever. I’ll admit it, I am getting a little teary as I write these words. There are times you rediscover why it is you enjoy life so much, and this was one of those moments. From the new friends I made, to the new experiences I shared, to catching up with one of my dearest friends after 27 years… I will carry this inside my soul and cherish it.
Good night, Windy City. You’re my kind of town!
Yours truly,
Johnny Blogger
The full album for the race is available now on Picasa Web Albums, and on my Facebook page.
