Page 154
Story: Black Flag
“Hell man, I would havedone it a lot sooner than that.”
As my luck would haveit, I got caught up in appearances and press interviews so I had to postpone mytrip to Elma to see Sway, which had me one grumpy bastard by the time Iactually made it to Martinsville. Not only had I missed her being released fromthe hospital but now I wouldn’t get to see her for another few weeks. Grumpybastard might actually be an understatement.
Each week, I couldn’tflee the hounding media and fans that hovered over every turn waiting to takethose last remaining pieces.
“Jameson! Look thisway!”
“Jameson! Do you havejust a second?”
“Jameson! Can you signthis?”
“Jameson! Can I get apicture with you?”
“Jameson! Do you thinkyou have a chance at the championship?”
“Jameson! How’s Swaydoing?”
Those were the constantenthusiastic questions surrounding me. But what they didn’t realize was insteadof taking the remaining pieces, they were being glued together again with thefact that this was almost the end. That’s what I tried to tell myself at least.
With the late afternoonsun blinding, I was leaning against this side of my hauler as a throng of fansencircled me. I remained silent and just smiled for the pictures they weretaking. There was screaming and flashing all around, it was hard to even signmy name with all the distractions. But I remained focused as the end was near.
A strange thing happenswhen someone finds out you’re a NASCAR driver. They stop thinking of you as aperson and think of you as some sort of mythical creature, a god that can do nowrong. We’re far from that though. We have weaknesses and probably more faultsthan them. We have insecurities just like anyone else. But that doesn’t changethe fact that we act strong, we try to remain that god in their eyes. We hidethe fact that we’re human too because that’s not what they want to see.
We are just peopleafter all though. We screw up, we lose our tempers and even the best of us havebad days, or months in my case. But what I’m getting at is that we still moveforward, we never rest, we keep trying in hopes that maybe someday we’ll justcome a little closer to the mythical creatures our fans hope that we arebecause that’s what they want.
I continued to standthere, my hand cramping ever so often and sweat pouring out of me. I hadn’teven had a chance to change since the race and the Virginia sun was roasting.
Where Alley was tocontain this is what I wanted to know.
Apparently, she’d hadenough of my shit. When she caught a glimpse of what was happening out here,she merely smiled and walked inside the hauler with Lane, leaving me to dealwith this myself.
Publicistmy ass.
“Thanks a lot Alley!” Iyelled after her.
My dad was here thatweekend, which made everyone a little more edgy, but more importantly he wasbreathing down my neck at this moment looking for an answer.
I could feel hispiercing eyes watching me as a few fans realized who he was and asked for hisautograph. He leaned against the hauler beside me. Reaching for another posterto sign, my stare flickered toward his.
“What are you doing?”
“Oh, just heading tothe NASCAR Hauler.” His lips pursed as his eyes narrowed but he remainedsomewhat amused.
“What, so you got loston the way?”
He just chuckledshaking his head, not appearing to be offended by my sarcasm.“Another fine, Jameson?”A smile flickered across his tenseface when I didn’t answer and simply offered a shrug. “Just...I don’t even know what to say about thisone. You’re out of control—you know that right?”
“Add it to the longlist of my wholesome qualities.” I replied not looking up. I heard a few fanschuckle at our trifling argument.
“You’re a shittylistener too. Add that to yourwholesomelist.” he yelled over hisshoulder walking toward the NASCAR hauler to argue my most recent penalty forthreatening a NASCAR official that I would shove his black flag up his ass ifhe waived it at me again.
I was completelyserious and I think the official knew that.
After about an hour ofthis, Alley finally came out, Phillip was waiting for me. I signed two moreautographs and made my way inside, fans screaming for me to come back. Dippingmy head, I waved to them.
Phillip was typing awayon his Blackberry when I took a seat across from him at the table. Drawing in ashaky breath, I ran my fingers once through my hair. I wasn’t sure I was readyto hear all this but I also knew at some point Ineededto hear it.
He got straight tobusiness when he finished checking his email. “All right Jameson, thearraignment is scheduled for next Thursday, would you like to attend?” Hiseyebrows arched in question as he looked up at me.
As my luck would haveit, I got caught up in appearances and press interviews so I had to postpone mytrip to Elma to see Sway, which had me one grumpy bastard by the time Iactually made it to Martinsville. Not only had I missed her being released fromthe hospital but now I wouldn’t get to see her for another few weeks. Grumpybastard might actually be an understatement.
Each week, I couldn’tflee the hounding media and fans that hovered over every turn waiting to takethose last remaining pieces.
“Jameson! Look thisway!”
“Jameson! Do you havejust a second?”
“Jameson! Can you signthis?”
“Jameson! Can I get apicture with you?”
“Jameson! Do you thinkyou have a chance at the championship?”
“Jameson! How’s Swaydoing?”
Those were the constantenthusiastic questions surrounding me. But what they didn’t realize was insteadof taking the remaining pieces, they were being glued together again with thefact that this was almost the end. That’s what I tried to tell myself at least.
With the late afternoonsun blinding, I was leaning against this side of my hauler as a throng of fansencircled me. I remained silent and just smiled for the pictures they weretaking. There was screaming and flashing all around, it was hard to even signmy name with all the distractions. But I remained focused as the end was near.
A strange thing happenswhen someone finds out you’re a NASCAR driver. They stop thinking of you as aperson and think of you as some sort of mythical creature, a god that can do nowrong. We’re far from that though. We have weaknesses and probably more faultsthan them. We have insecurities just like anyone else. But that doesn’t changethe fact that we act strong, we try to remain that god in their eyes. We hidethe fact that we’re human too because that’s not what they want to see.
We are just peopleafter all though. We screw up, we lose our tempers and even the best of us havebad days, or months in my case. But what I’m getting at is that we still moveforward, we never rest, we keep trying in hopes that maybe someday we’ll justcome a little closer to the mythical creatures our fans hope that we arebecause that’s what they want.
I continued to standthere, my hand cramping ever so often and sweat pouring out of me. I hadn’teven had a chance to change since the race and the Virginia sun was roasting.
Where Alley was tocontain this is what I wanted to know.
Apparently, she’d hadenough of my shit. When she caught a glimpse of what was happening out here,she merely smiled and walked inside the hauler with Lane, leaving me to dealwith this myself.
Publicistmy ass.
“Thanks a lot Alley!” Iyelled after her.
My dad was here thatweekend, which made everyone a little more edgy, but more importantly he wasbreathing down my neck at this moment looking for an answer.
I could feel hispiercing eyes watching me as a few fans realized who he was and asked for hisautograph. He leaned against the hauler beside me. Reaching for another posterto sign, my stare flickered toward his.
“What are you doing?”
“Oh, just heading tothe NASCAR Hauler.” His lips pursed as his eyes narrowed but he remainedsomewhat amused.
“What, so you got loston the way?”
He just chuckledshaking his head, not appearing to be offended by my sarcasm.“Another fine, Jameson?”A smile flickered across his tenseface when I didn’t answer and simply offered a shrug. “Just...I don’t even know what to say about thisone. You’re out of control—you know that right?”
“Add it to the longlist of my wholesome qualities.” I replied not looking up. I heard a few fanschuckle at our trifling argument.
“You’re a shittylistener too. Add that to yourwholesomelist.” he yelled over hisshoulder walking toward the NASCAR hauler to argue my most recent penalty forthreatening a NASCAR official that I would shove his black flag up his ass ifhe waived it at me again.
I was completelyserious and I think the official knew that.
After about an hour ofthis, Alley finally came out, Phillip was waiting for me. I signed two moreautographs and made my way inside, fans screaming for me to come back. Dippingmy head, I waved to them.
Phillip was typing awayon his Blackberry when I took a seat across from him at the table. Drawing in ashaky breath, I ran my fingers once through my hair. I wasn’t sure I was readyto hear all this but I also knew at some point Ineededto hear it.
He got straight tobusiness when he finished checking his email. “All right Jameson, thearraignment is scheduled for next Thursday, would you like to attend?” Hiseyebrows arched in question as he looked up at me.
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