April 18, 2009
By Guest Columnist Cathy Elliott
I can hear the howls of dedicated fans of "other" sports all across America already, but with the possible exception of professional basketball's No. 23, I'm of the opinion that the numbers of NASCAR teams carry more clout than those of anyone else. But is that necessarily a good thing?
Case in point: There has been a lot of talk recently about the fact that, for the first time in 10 years, a 43-car NASCAR Sprint Cup Series race field would hit the track without the inclusion of a No. 8 car. The location of this first noticeable absence -- Phoenix International Raceway on April 18.
The No. 8, of course, was piloted by Ralph Earnhardt, and later was most famously driven by his grandson, Dale Earnhardt, Jr., NASCAR’s most popular driver by a country mile.
The absence of the No. 8 has been called everything from a tragedy to a travesty. But I think what really has people so twisted up is not the absence of the number itself, but what it stands for; in a word, the Earnhardt family legacy.
Something so indelibly linked to one of NASCAR's most beloved family dynasties has managed to create a noticeable void in the racing world in only one week's time. That's saying something.
Other sports teams retire the jerseys of superstar players, but that doesn't stop a player on another team from wearing that same number to work.
There will never be another No. 8 New York Yankee (Yogi Berra's jersey was retired) or Baltimore Oriole (Cal Ripken, Jr.'s number was similarly laid to rest), but baseballs are still being hit, thrown and caught every day by the likes of other stars such as the Detroit Tigers' Gerald Laird, or Troy Glaus of the St. Louis Cardinals.
We all have our favorite NASCAR numbers. Often when I ask someone who "their" driver is, the answer will be "No. 14, baby," or "No. 24 all the way, woo-hoo!'
This is great for sponsors, because names and numbers show a post-race interview tendency to power up and run together in one long sentence, like a string of twinkling Christmas lights. "The No. 18 M&Ms Toyota ran good today," is a prime example, because like it or not, the No. 18 M&Ms Toyota seems to run well pretty much every day.
Being reduced to little more than a number, though, might not be such a great thing for the drivers. Not that they’re complaining. Business at souvenir merchandise haulers has been brisk this season as fans stock up on gear proclaiming their support of old drivers with new numbers – Tony Stewart, Mark Martin and Ryan Newman are a few noteworthy examples.
But for those of you who are fans of prime-time medical dramas, it might seem more than a little unsettling that one of the team doctors on the FOX hit show “House, M.D.” is simply referred to as “13”. I’m positive the vast majority of viewers would have no idea what her name is (Dr. Remy Hadley, for the record).
NASCAR’s strength rests more on personalities than on the various digits that represent them, and rightly so. In fact, NASCAR doesn’t even retire car numbers. If they did, a little bit of the history and tradition that makes the sport of stock car racing so special would be leeched away with each number that fell by the wayside.
Yes, Richard Petty has retired, but it’s still nice to see the No. 43 car on the track. Yes, Dale Earnhardt is gone, but how bittersweet it is to believe we will see the No. 3 back on the racetrack some day, perhaps even driven by another, younger Dale Earnhardt.
(Be prepared to wear body armor to the merchandise rig if that ever happens, by the way. It’s going to be Cabbage Patch Doll carnage all over again.)
Is it really so awful that Dale Earnhardt, Jr. wasn’t able to bring his No. 8 with him when he switched teams a couple of years ago? Is there really any good reason to be mad at, or lay blame on, any one person or organization for not allowing that to happen?
We don’t feel true affection for numbers, in most cases. A man is defined by much more than his tally of wins, poles, top five or top 10 finishes. He is more than some digits on the side of a car. It’s the person, and the personality, that we care about.
But if we’re really going to insist on being hard-nosed and boiling NASCAR down to a mathematical representation, even that really isn’t so hard to figure out. Regardless of who our favorite driver is, or what is painted on his door, to his fans, he is simply number one.
Nothing else really matters.
The thoughts and ideas expressed by this writer or any other writer on Insider Racing News, are not necessarily the views of the staff and/or management of IRN.
