By Craig P. Dixon, southcoast247.com correspondent Social Commentary 14
April 18, 2005
Good day. I’m Your Humble Author and host, Craig Dixon. Here is your social commentary.
Last week, I promised a look at NASCAR. To keep that promise, I sat in front of the TV and watched the last 15 laps of Sunday’s race.
I have no idea which race it was. I don’t care. Jeff Gordon won.
Woopee!
Anyhow, here’s the deal. I’d heard NASCAR referred to as: “The fastest growing sport in America.” So, I sat there, watching this “sport” with my two brothers. After two laps, I stated my dislike of NASCAR.
“Why the hell do people watch this shit? It’s just a bunch of cars going around an oval, lap after lap. And the commentators sound like a pair of country bumpkins. Admit it, this SUCKS!”
Brother #1: “What do you have against NASCAR, man? There’s nothing wrong with it.”
Brother #2: “Yeah, me too. I’ve got Jeff Gordon on my Fantasy Team.”
“What? You’ve got a fucking NASCAR Fantasy Team? How sad is that.”
Brother #2: “I’m leading the standings right now. Dale Earnhart Jr. can’t win anything.”
“You’re serious. There’s really a NASCAR Fantasy Team? I thought you were joking.”
Brother #2: “Of course I’m serious.”
At this point, Brother #1 left the room. He’d grown weary of the conversation.
“Man, NASCAR isn’t a fucking sport.”
Brother #2: “Why don’t you drive a car around a track at 200 miles an hour all day long? Then you can tell me if it’s a sport or not.”
“Dude, they trained monkeys to go into space, shot up there at speeds well over 200 miles an hour, and perform simple functions on cue. Using their hands, feet, and brains, much like any idiot driving a car.”
Brother #2: “Can you do it?”
“Go to space? Sure, didn’t Homer Simpson go to space? Give me some training and yes, I can do it. It requires no skill, no talent to be a good NASCAR driver. Any slob hanging out at the Go Kart track can do this shit. Hell, most of these “athletes” got their start Go Kart racing.
“It’s like people calling Halo 2 a sport. Sure, you use hand-eye coordination and the old brain. But is it really a sport? Hell no. Once again, get some chimps in from the lab and let them play Halo for awhile, and they’ll kick the shit out of anyone.
“Sports should require certain things. They should be physical, and an athlete should need to be in excellent shape to play.”
Brother #2: “Have you seen a fat NASCAR driver?”
“No, but they couldn’t fit in the cars if they were fat. Being thin doesn’t necessarily mean being in shape, though. There’s nothing physical about NASCAR.”
Brother #2: “What about endurance and stamina? These guys can endure lap after lap.”
“You’re talking to me about endurance and stamina? Put one of those assholes in rush hour traffic on Storrow Drive and see just what they can endure.
“If we are to call endurance driving a sport, what do we call the truckers that drive 24 hours plus straight? Gods atop Mt. Olympus?”
Brother #2 (growing agitated): “But you’ve got to admit, it’s damned entertaining.”
“Listen to you! ‘DAY-umm entairtAYnin’? What the fuck are you becoming? A redneck?
“This isn’t entertaining by anyone’s standard. Look,” I pointed to the screen. “At all the little shit FOX tosses on the TV so you’ll find it more ‘entertaining’. Everywhere you look, there’s some icon on the TV. On the bottom they continuously scroll the current placing. At left, various driver information I don’t give a shit about. And directly in the middle: A lap counter. What the fuck.
“Obviously, they’ve got all these bells and whistles to keep you away from the fact that the race is boring. It’s just cars going vroom-vroom around an oval.
“Plus, it’s the damned cars doing all the work. Those assholes get out of the car and look just as fresh as the minute
they get into it. There’s nothing difficult, stressing about what they do.”
I was on a roll now. The race was under a caution flag. Gordon had the lead with five laps to go.
“Just admit it. It’s not a sport.”
Brother #2: “It is a sport.”
“Why? Because FOX and a bunch of dimwits that get turned on by watching colorful cars twirling around as if an adults version of a baby’s mobile do? It’s a fucking joke.
“I bet most of the bastards are getting wasted in the stands, hoping for a crash to break the monotony. Nothing fatal, of course… just a little fender bender to lively things up a bit.”
The race was going again, and in moments Gordon won. I left my brother to do his Fantasy Gloating over the Net.
NASCAR pisses me off. There’s nothing redeeming about it. It’s a hillbilly, backwoods exhibition, and nothing more. To this day, there’s racism alive in NASCAR, and a black driver has yet to debut on its stage.
So why like it? Is it really because of the bright colors, the flashy sponsorships, or the crashes? Or, perhaps because Americans are getting dumber; easily pacified and entertained by the basest of bull shit?
I don’t know. Have you seen that NASCAR commercial, where the drivers are joking around on Thoroughbred Derby horses? I almost blew an aneurysm when I saw that.
Now that’s a sport. Controlling a living, powerful, unpredictable animal for a heart pounding five minutes takes skill, strength, talent and endurance – all at a meager bantam weight. But keeping a car on the road at 200 miles an hour on the same predictable track? Sport my ass. I do that drunk.
Hell, what’d we all learn from “Days of Thunder”? Drive straight through the smoke, right? Pay no attention to it.
The smoke and mirrors FOX TV tosses on the screen during a race isn’t fooling me. I am not entertained. NASCAR sucks as miserably as a brace face first timer.
In other news… it’s getting warmer outside and the ladies are coming out of hibernation. Meow.
That’s it for this week. Until next we meet this is Your Humble Author, signing off.
Good day. I’m Your Humble Author and host, Craig Dixon. Here is your social commentary.
