The
Monster Energy NASCAR Cup Series tripped over its own shoelaces again Friday,
with a qualifying fiasco straight out of the Keystone Kops.
In a misguided attempt to avoid going onto the racetrack first and allowing other cars to draft off their back bumper, all 12 final-round competitors sat idling on pit road, until it was too late. All 12 competitors failed to begin their decisive Round Three time-trial effort until after the qualifying clock ran out and the red and black flags had signaled an end to the session.
It was a baffling, inexplicable turn of events; one that left the ACS grandstands howling in anger.
And it was no mistake.
Every crew chief on every pit box knew how long it would take to get from the exit of pit road to the start/finish line, in time to begin a qualifying lap. Despite that knowledge, all 12 crew chiefs held their drivers until not enough time remained; stubbornly refusing to be the dreaded “first man out.”
It was a world class game of Chicken; a senseless pecker-measuring contest that ultimately produced only one backhanded winner (Austin Dillon) and millions of losers.
Fans in attendance at ACS – and likely those viewing at home — booed their lungs out in frustration. Frustration with the drivers, frustration with the teams and frustration with the sanctioning body.
That frustration was entirely justified, and all three entities deserve a share of the blame.
NASCAR probably should have seen Friday’s qualifying chicanery coming. It has loomed like a dark cloud on the horizon for the last three weeks, as teams gradually became more brazen in their attempts to manipulate and massage the system to their own benefit. A number of drivers predicted exactly what happened, before the green flag ever flew. But somehow, NASCAR was caught with its collective pants down, having failed to anticipate any sort of on-track bamboozlement.
In recent years, NASCAR seems to have adopted a “we’re all in this together“ attitude when it comes to governing the sport; abandoning the iron-fisted management style favored by founder Bill France, Sr., in favor of a sort of “governance by consensus.”
As a result, the sanctioning body frequently finds itself playing defense at times like this, reacting to the whims of the garage area, instead of being proactive. They modify rules in the aftermath of a disaster, rather than anticipating the disaster and preventing it before it occurs.
Racers are mercenaries. They often care less about what’s good for the sport than what’s good for them. They will cut their mother’s throat for a $100 trophy and 45 championship points, and have no qualms about delivering a farcical qualifying session to their fans, rather than risking a 12th-place start in Sunday’s race.
There is nothing wrong with being a mercenary. In the end, we all look out for number one, and it should come as no surprise that NASCAR drivers and teams think of themselves first and the fans later, if at all.
Professional athletes have finite careers; 10 or 15 years to cement their legacy, pay the kids’ college tuition and provide for their retirement. They are one blown ACL, one torn rotator cuff, one severe concussion away from being shuffled off to the sidelines at any moment. Little wonder, then, that their overriding attitude tends to be, “me first.”
Team owners are the same way. With a slate of multi-million dollar sponsors to appease, they’ll do whatever it takes to keep their organization at the front of the pack. They’ll spend $500,000 to save 5/1,000 of a second on pit road, then complain pitifully about the skyrocketing cost of competition.
It’s understandable, and absolutely predictable.
The Drivers Council cares about what’s best for drivers, and the Race Team Alliance cares about what’s best for teams. They may occasionally do things that are in the overall best interest of the sport, but only when those things positively impact their own bottom line.
Friday afternoon proved — once again — that NASCAR’s “let’s all pull together” attitude is not working, and never will.
What happened Friday at Auto Club Speedway was a slap in the face to NASCAR’s already dwindling fan base; a shameful, inexcusable insult to anyone who spent the money or time necessary to witness a sham of a program that never should have happened.
Now, NASCAR is once again forced to react. Preliminary indications are that they will once again modify the qualifying format, in an attempt to prevent racers from harming themselves and others. It’s the motorsports equivalent of imposing a new, later curfew on your child, after they refuse to obey the previous one.
Yet another procedural tweak, as the sanctioning body hopes against hope that its teams will do the right thing, rather than demanding it.
In a misguided attempt to avoid going onto the racetrack first and allowing other cars to draft off their back bumper, all 12 final-round competitors sat idling on pit road, until it was too late. All 12 competitors failed to begin their decisive Round Three time-trial effort until after the qualifying clock ran out and the red and black flags had signaled an end to the session.
It was a baffling, inexplicable turn of events; one that left the ACS grandstands howling in anger.
And it was no mistake.
Every crew chief on every pit box knew how long it would take to get from the exit of pit road to the start/finish line, in time to begin a qualifying lap. Despite that knowledge, all 12 crew chiefs held their drivers until not enough time remained; stubbornly refusing to be the dreaded “first man out.”
It was a world class game of Chicken; a senseless pecker-measuring contest that ultimately produced only one backhanded winner (Austin Dillon) and millions of losers.
Fans in attendance at ACS – and likely those viewing at home — booed their lungs out in frustration. Frustration with the drivers, frustration with the teams and frustration with the sanctioning body.
That frustration was entirely justified, and all three entities deserve a share of the blame.
NASCAR probably should have seen Friday’s qualifying chicanery coming. It has loomed like a dark cloud on the horizon for the last three weeks, as teams gradually became more brazen in their attempts to manipulate and massage the system to their own benefit. A number of drivers predicted exactly what happened, before the green flag ever flew. But somehow, NASCAR was caught with its collective pants down, having failed to anticipate any sort of on-track bamboozlement.
In recent years, NASCAR seems to have adopted a “we’re all in this together“ attitude when it comes to governing the sport; abandoning the iron-fisted management style favored by founder Bill France, Sr., in favor of a sort of “governance by consensus.”
As a result, the sanctioning body frequently finds itself playing defense at times like this, reacting to the whims of the garage area, instead of being proactive. They modify rules in the aftermath of a disaster, rather than anticipating the disaster and preventing it before it occurs.
Racers are mercenaries. They often care less about what’s good for the sport than what’s good for them. They will cut their mother’s throat for a $100 trophy and 45 championship points, and have no qualms about delivering a farcical qualifying session to their fans, rather than risking a 12th-place start in Sunday’s race.
There is nothing wrong with being a mercenary. In the end, we all look out for number one, and it should come as no surprise that NASCAR drivers and teams think of themselves first and the fans later, if at all.
Professional athletes have finite careers; 10 or 15 years to cement their legacy, pay the kids’ college tuition and provide for their retirement. They are one blown ACL, one torn rotator cuff, one severe concussion away from being shuffled off to the sidelines at any moment. Little wonder, then, that their overriding attitude tends to be, “me first.”
Team owners are the same way. With a slate of multi-million dollar sponsors to appease, they’ll do whatever it takes to keep their organization at the front of the pack. They’ll spend $500,000 to save 5/1,000 of a second on pit road, then complain pitifully about the skyrocketing cost of competition.
It’s understandable, and absolutely predictable.
The Drivers Council cares about what’s best for drivers, and the Race Team Alliance cares about what’s best for teams. They may occasionally do things that are in the overall best interest of the sport, but only when those things positively impact their own bottom line.
Friday afternoon proved — once again — that NASCAR’s “let’s all pull together” attitude is not working, and never will.
What happened Friday at Auto Club Speedway was a slap in the face to NASCAR’s already dwindling fan base; a shameful, inexcusable insult to anyone who spent the money or time necessary to witness a sham of a program that never should have happened.
Now, NASCAR is once again forced to react. Preliminary indications are that they will once again modify the qualifying format, in an attempt to prevent racers from harming themselves and others. It’s the motorsports equivalent of imposing a new, later curfew on your child, after they refuse to obey the previous one.
Yet another procedural tweak, as the sanctioning body hopes against hope that its teams will do the right thing, rather than demanding it.
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