Page 174
Story: Black Flag
Jimi slung his armaround my shoulders and squeezed once. “You got this, I have no doubt.” Hewhispered. “I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks dad.”
“Remember, this is whatyou’ve dreamed about, this is it. You’ve earned it.” He patted my back. “You’vealready proven yourself—finish it off.”
I’ve never reallythought about what this would all be like.
What would it be liketo win eleven races in my first Cup Series? How am I supposed to feel aboutthis? I also never really thought about what it would feel like to have thechance to win the championship in my first season. I never thought about this becausereally, I didn’t think it would happen.
You don’t realize thiskind of dream untilit’shappening. You don’trecognize it until you’re right in the middle of it. Surrounded by thescreaming fans and the warm Florida sun, I was right in the middle of it. Thiswas what I’ve been working for since I was five.
When I pulled out of myparentsdriveway five years ago, that afternoon,somewhere between Portland and Chico California, I thought about turningaround, but it was Sway who kept me going.
We were sitting outsidea Chevron, filling up on gas, when I freaked out and decided I was insane foreven thinking I could do it. She was there talking me off the ledge andconvinced me that this was what I was meant to do. Without her, I might not bestanding on this grid, here today.
I smiled to myself whenin that exact moment, standing here on pit road when I was having those samedoubts and fears—a text message from her came through.
You can do this! Believein yourself and believe in your dream. You were born to be a champion!
She was right and inthat moment, with the sounds ofLinkinPark blaringthrough my headphones, I realized my biggest day was here. This was it, thiswas the now or never, the do or die, time to step up and play the game. It wastime to show everyone who had ever doubted me that I was born to do this. Therewas no holding back now.
This would be my eyefor an eye.
I quickly sent her onelast text before tucking my phone away.
I will. Wait up forme tonight.
Watching driver’s wivesand girlfriends wish them luck was hard because Sway wasn’t there to do thesame. But the reason she couldn’t—just fueled the fire inside me to win.
All morning everyonehad been asking me how I felt coming into this race, howIwas feeling.Though I’d given them the standard answer of great, was I great? No I wasn’t.
Was I nervous? You haveno fucking idea.
Talk about pressure.
But with everything that’shappened, I deserved this. My team deserved this—my family deserved this. Afterall the shit that’s happened, all the shit I’ve put them through...they deserved less shit for onceanda championship.
Even the biggest racesof your career can play out the same way. You’re stopped a few dozen times forcautions, debris, wrecks, rain, but for the drivers and their crews who haveworked so hard just to get to that last race, it never stopped. It was aconstant race, one stop to another, a call to a change and a turn to a finish.For those miles in between the green and checkered are what decided the fate ofone team. Forty-two others were left wondering what might have happened by thatone more second, the slip on pit road, that brush with the wall or maybe justthat 3/10 of an inch separating them from victory. For these racers surroundingme, the teams, the owners, after the checkered, the race to the next is justthe beginning of their ten-month battle between the flags that never reallyended.
“Turn your rear tirefans on,” Kyle told me at lap two hundred. “I’m not sure it’s going to help butwegottatry something.”
This was not going asplanned. Just twelve laps into the race, I blew the right rear tire and slammedinto the wall. Amazingly enough I managed to keep it on the lead lap but thereI sat in ninth place with sixty-seven laps to go.
“What do the pointslook like?” Frustration and exhaustion were evident in my harried tone.
“If the race was to endnow,” Kyle’s tone was the same. “you’dwin thechampionship by eighty points.”
I was relieved and Ireally didn’t think anyone could catch me but I had a shit car today and it’dbe a miracle if it finished in one piece.
My mind kept going backto the fact that I wouldn’t settle for anything other than the win, I wantedmore. More of anything is better, right? Not exactly, but I wanted more out ofthis goddamn car, that’s for sure.
“Kyle, listen...” I turned the fans on. “Let’s take fourtires on this stop and go down a half round on the wedge. Maybe that will freeit up enough that we’re not burning up the tires. I’m tight and I think that’swhy.”
“All right boys,” Kyleannounced to the crew. “You heard the man.”
“Pit road is open thistime by.” Aiden told us. “Watch your speed. Keep it at 4300.”
“This is the last stopof the night guys so make it a good one.” Mason told the crew. “Get both cansin and get that tape off the grill.”
“Thanks dad.”
“Remember, this is whatyou’ve dreamed about, this is it. You’ve earned it.” He patted my back. “You’vealready proven yourself—finish it off.”
I’ve never reallythought about what this would all be like.
What would it be liketo win eleven races in my first Cup Series? How am I supposed to feel aboutthis? I also never really thought about what it would feel like to have thechance to win the championship in my first season. I never thought about this becausereally, I didn’t think it would happen.
You don’t realize thiskind of dream untilit’shappening. You don’trecognize it until you’re right in the middle of it. Surrounded by thescreaming fans and the warm Florida sun, I was right in the middle of it. Thiswas what I’ve been working for since I was five.
When I pulled out of myparentsdriveway five years ago, that afternoon,somewhere between Portland and Chico California, I thought about turningaround, but it was Sway who kept me going.
We were sitting outsidea Chevron, filling up on gas, when I freaked out and decided I was insane foreven thinking I could do it. She was there talking me off the ledge andconvinced me that this was what I was meant to do. Without her, I might not bestanding on this grid, here today.
I smiled to myself whenin that exact moment, standing here on pit road when I was having those samedoubts and fears—a text message from her came through.
You can do this! Believein yourself and believe in your dream. You were born to be a champion!
She was right and inthat moment, with the sounds ofLinkinPark blaringthrough my headphones, I realized my biggest day was here. This was it, thiswas the now or never, the do or die, time to step up and play the game. It wastime to show everyone who had ever doubted me that I was born to do this. Therewas no holding back now.
This would be my eyefor an eye.
I quickly sent her onelast text before tucking my phone away.
I will. Wait up forme tonight.
Watching driver’s wivesand girlfriends wish them luck was hard because Sway wasn’t there to do thesame. But the reason she couldn’t—just fueled the fire inside me to win.
All morning everyonehad been asking me how I felt coming into this race, howIwas feeling.Though I’d given them the standard answer of great, was I great? No I wasn’t.
Was I nervous? You haveno fucking idea.
Talk about pressure.
But with everything that’shappened, I deserved this. My team deserved this—my family deserved this. Afterall the shit that’s happened, all the shit I’ve put them through...they deserved less shit for onceanda championship.
Even the biggest racesof your career can play out the same way. You’re stopped a few dozen times forcautions, debris, wrecks, rain, but for the drivers and their crews who haveworked so hard just to get to that last race, it never stopped. It was aconstant race, one stop to another, a call to a change and a turn to a finish.For those miles in between the green and checkered are what decided the fate ofone team. Forty-two others were left wondering what might have happened by thatone more second, the slip on pit road, that brush with the wall or maybe justthat 3/10 of an inch separating them from victory. For these racers surroundingme, the teams, the owners, after the checkered, the race to the next is justthe beginning of their ten-month battle between the flags that never reallyended.
“Turn your rear tirefans on,” Kyle told me at lap two hundred. “I’m not sure it’s going to help butwegottatry something.”
This was not going asplanned. Just twelve laps into the race, I blew the right rear tire and slammedinto the wall. Amazingly enough I managed to keep it on the lead lap but thereI sat in ninth place with sixty-seven laps to go.
“What do the pointslook like?” Frustration and exhaustion were evident in my harried tone.
“If the race was to endnow,” Kyle’s tone was the same. “you’dwin thechampionship by eighty points.”
I was relieved and Ireally didn’t think anyone could catch me but I had a shit car today and it’dbe a miracle if it finished in one piece.
My mind kept going backto the fact that I wouldn’t settle for anything other than the win, I wantedmore. More of anything is better, right? Not exactly, but I wanted more out ofthis goddamn car, that’s for sure.
“Kyle, listen...” I turned the fans on. “Let’s take fourtires on this stop and go down a half round on the wedge. Maybe that will freeit up enough that we’re not burning up the tires. I’m tight and I think that’swhy.”
“All right boys,” Kyleannounced to the crew. “You heard the man.”
“Pit road is open thistime by.” Aiden told us. “Watch your speed. Keep it at 4300.”
“This is the last stopof the night guys so make it a good one.” Mason told the crew. “Get both cansin and get that tape off the grill.”
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