dale earnhardt
Sep 4 2001
i still can’t believe that ole hillbilly is gone.
i’m a city boy, surrounded by city sports. i love the browns, i love the indians, i even watch the cavs. i thought my heart broke when the browns left town, but i had no idea. i had no idea.
for a week after the race my heart hurt. literally hurt. physical pain. i’d never felt that before, though i’m sure i will feel it again.
i still can’t watch the beginning of a race without choking up. lap three is a killer. i love that they do it, i think they should mention him more, but it’s a killer. no one talking, crowds raising three fingers and flying their banners.
i thought for a while i wouldn’t be able to watch any more. there was no one else to cheer for. no one else that could come from a lap down and win. come from 18th at talledega with 2 laps to go. no one else that could nap during a rain delay in his car, or occasionally take a nap during a race. no one who did so well at daytona, and never won the big one.
and then won it.
as a fan of sports, i have many memories of great moments in sports. the michael jordon shot over craig ehlo that is played over and over again. the drive. ripken breaking the record. that day of paine stewart. and oh, game six, ninth inning, two outs away from a world series we hadn’t won in nearly fifty years.
but they are on a different scale compared to when that ole hillbilly finally won the daytona 500. the greatest moment in motor sports history. in my mind, by far the greatest moment in sports history.
he’s the reason i watched the sport. he’s the one that got me. when i started watching, no one else i knew watched. he hooked me right off the bat. black number three. the intimidator. ole iron head.
maybe that’s why i liked him so much, he was so much the antithesis of me.
i looked forward to watching the sport with my son. he had a number 3 outfit. he likes to watch the vroom vroom’s on tv. now i don’t know. i don’t know who to cheer for. no one else has what he had, the brashness, the daring, the attitude.
halfway through the season, i still find myself falling on old habits. checking qualifying to see how far back he would have to come this week, and realizing he wouldn’t be coming from the back this week. seeing the same last name in qualifying isn’t the same, but it is a painful reminder. what must jr be going through? i still check the full points to see his name listed. for some reason i think maybe that ole hillbilly can come back, he’s still in the points.
but he’s not coming back. and no one can take his place. no one will ever take his place. he was the greatest the ever was, the greatest there ever will be.
they show the last images of him a lot. him and jr. him and his wife, kissing, right before he got into that black car for the last time. i remember his last interview more. him dozing by his trailer, feet up, head back, just minutes before the race. this is one of my favorite memories. the epitomie of him.
i try to convince myself that the way he went was the way he would want to go. holding off the pack so his son and his friend could fight it out to win the great american race. that’s the way he would want to go.
but i know that’s not the way. he never saw who won. he had more things to accomplish. maybe he would never get to the petty 200 but he would have won the most championships.
but i still watch. i can’t help it. its a great sport, for all it flaws. go michael, go jr, go rusty and gordon. race on, but wear your head restaints.
i still can’t believe that ole hillbilly is gone.
dale earnhardt