Page 159 of The Champion
“Listen,” I stood from my stool and distanced myself fromher. “I think you got the wrong impression here.”
“You’re seriously going to pass up?”
I turned and looked at her over my shoulder. “Yeah, Iam.”
I then tossed a fifty at the bar and left without anotherglance.
Like I said, these women were never an option. Did I tellSway about the encounter?
No.
I wasn’t trying to keep something from my wife but thenagain, I didn’t want her worrying about something she didn’t need to.
Once September rolled around it was time for DirtNationals in Eldora. Fortunately for me, the cup schedule opened up and I wasable to attend. Sway was with Arie at her dance recital. I’ve been to a dancerecital and though I loved watching my little girl and niece Lexi dance aroundlike the little angels they were, I could only handle so much pink andscreaming little girls.
So here I was, with my boys. Only problem was my littleguy was extremely temperamental tonight.
After hot laps when the USAC official told me Axel neededto cool it or he’d be suspended, I felt the need to talk to him.
When he pulled the car beside me, slammed his helmetagainst the side of his car and kicked the left rear tire, I intervened.
“What’s with you?”
“Nothing,” He snorted. “Nothing is wrong.”
“Bullshit.”
My little guy was a typical eleven-year old these days,hormonal and aggressive, just like his dad. Laughing I pulled him with metoward the concession stands.
“C’mon buddy, let’s get you a beer or something.”
Axel ended calming down after inhaling about threehotdogs and begging for that beer (which he never received). Sway made itbefore the feature events began and then ended up having to leave when Ariepuked all over her. This left me alone with Axel, Casten and of course Lily—whorefused to go anywhere if Axel wasn’t with her.
“Keep an eye on him.” Sway told me as I carried Arie tothe car. She had apparently been sick all day but wanted to see Axel race despite.“He seems...like his dad tonight.”
“I know.” I grinned and kissed her and Arie goodbye. “Weshould be home sometime after midnight I assume.”
When I got back to Axel’s pit, two USAC officials hadseparated him and Payton, another quarter midget driver.
“What the hell happened?”
Casten laughed. “Axel punched Payton.”
I turned toward Axel, who was sitting next to his racecar, nursing a bloody lip. “Why would you do that?”
He shrugged and leaned his head against his arms resting onhis knees. “I just...did.”
On the way back home that night I got out of him what Ifeared would someday happen. He was defending me. “Payton said you didn’tdeserve to win all those championships.”
“Don’t pay any mind to Payton.” I told him. I knew it wasn’tPayton Raymond saying that. It was his dad. No twelve-year old knew whodeserved a championship and who didn’t.
“It’s not easy, is it?” he asked when we pulled down ourlong driveway.
“What’s not easy?”
His mirror like green eyes focused on mine. That samedetermination, that same fire I had flashed through him. “Being the son of alegend,”
“I suppose it isn’t.” I never thought that Axel wouldfeel the same way I did growing up and I wasn’t prepared for that. But therewas no way for him to avoid. Now he not only had to face the same pressures Idid, but his were amplified by the fact that both his father and grandfatherhave revolutionized the sport. Here he was, just a kid, trying to step into theshoes. It’s not easy for any driver, let alone the son of two of the greatestracers of our time.
