Bristol is not Las Vegas, Phoenix, Fort Worth or Charlotte. There are reasons to go to the Virginia-Tennessee border. The country is beautiful. On Sunday, it appears a lot of people were taking in the scenery. They sure in hell were not at the race track.
Some of the changes are interesting. Moving the season-ending event matters not, as Homestead has never become an iconic event in most minds anyway. Adding a third short track is good. Keeping the roval in Charlotte as part of the mix is fine. Adding some tradition with the Southern 500 becoming even more meaningful actually comes across as a fine idea.
A new season. A new group of people and combinations. A new rules package. A new reason to hope for more entertaining action. We can only hope that this time they will succeed.
As a journalist, I can say this. Joey Logano is a very talented driver, an aggressive driver who knows what he has to do and has the desire and the ability to pull it off. He is a very deserving Cup champion. I say that as a journalist.
LEADERSHIP...sucks. Usually, when you lead a race, when you are the guy kicking ass and taking names, it is a good thing. Not at Phoenix. It turned out to be steering the leading car was very similar to being the moral compass on the Walking Dead. You just wind up being some zombie’s souffle.
After Texas, then there were two locked into Homestead. One stole the show at Martinsville and then attempted to deny the second his ticket. Joey Logano failed to pull it off as he wound up third. Ryan Blaney had something to showcase and he had his moments. Not enough of them, as he had to settle for second.
We are down to a game of musical chairs. Four spots, with eight drivers who very much want one of them. Let me just say that musical chairs sucks. When you are a reserved fat kid, the more athletic aggressive lads are going to go after those seats hard. Also, you will never be a hero dropping a young lady on her ass. Fortunately for the gents at Martinsville on Sunday, not a young lady to be found. No fat kids, either, come to think of it.
It might have been Kansas, but the action was a whole lot like a Las Vegas slot machine. Gold bar. Gold bar. Grapes. Dammit! Take Kevin Harvick, for example. He was second best on the opening stage. He was the best in the second stage. He was dominating the third stage, at least until he went speeding on pit road. Dammit!
Talladega was a ratings bust. Talladega. For fans who follow the sport, those four Stewart-Haas cars up front, doing what they had to do all day long, was something to behold. For those who simply tune in to watch incredible action, they had to wait for the final 20 laps for the payoff. However, they had to have tuned in to witness either. They did not even bother. That is troublesome.
If only I could time travel. Going back a few days, I could have been able to pin-point exactly what one needed to do to win at Talladega on Sunday.