I'm Just Sayin'...
By Matthew Scott

Martinzzzville.
Monday, March 31st, 2008

Somebody wake me when the race begins.

Let's just say I am not drinking the Kool-Aid on this one, folks (or, to be sponsor-aware, the Goody's Cool Orange). Nascar Nation will tell you Sunday's Goody's Cool Orange 500 at Martinsville Speedway was exciting short-track action at its best, complete with ample lead changes, fender-rubbing, and a few wall-bangers. They will tell you it was a success from start to finish, and they'll tell you it's an example of why Nascar is the undisputed king of American motorsports. When they tell you this, please do the responsible thing and tell them this in return.

They are liars.

In the time it took you to read the above paragraph, there were probably two or three yellow flags at Martinsville. In this space recently, I lamented the fact there was no "action" at Bristol, that the days of "short tracks, short tempers" was long gone, and watching these short track races was worse because of it. Some will say my take on Martinsville makes me a hypocrite since that featured plenty of "rubbin' is racin'" moments. I disagree. You see, there's a difference between the raw emotion of Driver A throwing his helmet at Driver B following a questionable decision on B's part, and the mind-numbing boredom of yet another caution period after Driver A gets into the back of Driver B and sends B to the wall.

I watched this race from start to finish (yes, the Mrs. is thrilled with her Sunday afternoon). Truth be told, it's the first race since Daytona I've been able to watch in its entirety, and if this was any indication of the season so far, or worse, the season ahead, I may remove Nascar from my Tivo schedule. On more than one occasion, I found myself asking no one in particular, "Are you kidding me?" 18 cautions. I'm not sure which is a bigger upset... the fact the last 100+ laps were caution-free, or the fact I didn't lapse into a coma before that time. There came a point during the race when I actually said to myself, "Self, we are staying in this chair and watching this race until the checkered flag." It became a test of my willpower. My son didn't get a bath and my daughter didn't get picked up from piano lessons all because the world's best drivers couldn't keep their cars pointed in the right direction.

Some of this is tongue-in-cheek, to be sure. Cautions breed cautions, and a short track like the Paper Clip is more fertile than most. It's not going to change. I just wonder when plowing into someone became the accepted way to race. Now, there was a good deal to like about Martinsville. Denny Hamlin, a Virginia native, got his much-coveted first win on one of his "home" tracks. Jeff Gordon showed why he's the reigning King of the Clip with his drive from 31st to 1st... .and speaking of Gordon, how he didn't get more mashed up in the Bobby Labonte spin, I'll never know. The Hendrick team showed the reports of their demise have been greatly exaggerated. Then, of course, there were some actual emotions being shown; Matt Kenseth (Matt Kenseth!) spent the afternoon bouncing off of everything and everyone until he'd finally had enough and, uh, applied a little torque to David Gilliland's rear end (Nice try by Darrell Waltrip to claim it looked like Kenseth might have had a tire go flat... come on, D-Dub, it's TV, not radio, we've got pictures). And seriously, if it had been anyone other than Jeff Burton trying to get around Michael McDowell in the closing laps, would young Michael have finished the race pointed in the right direction?

So, the Nascar machine chalks up another "great day" at the race track, packs everything, and heads to Texas, where everything is bigger. For the sake of staying awake... and my son's hygiene... let's all hope for a little more actual racing in the Lone Star State.

Or at least, let's find a way to get Kyle Busch trapped behind Michael McDowell.

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