Page 153 of The Legend
“We’veheard talk of a possible televised show to account for your progress and returnto racing.” A reporter nearest to Jameson in the front asked holding a taperecord high over her head. “Is there any truth to those rumors?”
Jamesongroaned revolted by the question. Slowly he looked up to meet the questioningeyes. “No. Those are rumors. I’ve declined all offers.”
Wanting toshow as much of his recovery as they could, the pried every day to get detailsand interviews. That first weekend back, they chose that race to have an in-carcamera in his car. It was just another way to go about getting the story evenif he wouldn’t agree to the show.
“Any plansof racing in Knoxville Nationals?” that same shithead reporter asked.
Lookingback at the microphone, Jameson’s hands found his hat and he tugged on itlightly keeping his gaze down. “No. I have no plans of racing sprint cars againthis year.”
Thepensive regret was easy to feel in each word.
Fortunately,the press conference didn’t last long. There were only so many questions theycould ask without getting too personal and pissing off Alley.
After thepress conference, Arie and Casten took off with Emma and went to lunch aspractice started. Dressed in his racing suit, Jameson stood with me beside hiscar smiling at Kyle.
Kylerubbed the side of the car grinning as if he was presenting a trophy. “Ibrought your favorite girl.”
Jamesonthrew his head back laughing.
Over theyears it had become a joke between Kyle and Jameson and naming the cars. They’dagree on a name during practice and then the boys would joke about it. It wasall in good fun and another unity they had, and still had.
When hegot inside the car, I watched him closely and scrutinized his every move forany indication that he was in pain.
Sitting onthe pit box with Kyle and Spencer, I snuck on the headset.
After hishorrific crash in Pocono back in 2003, Jameson showed some concerns when he gotinside the car for the first time after that. Now, he showed none. He neverhesitated as he got inside. He never hesitated when he fired the car up and henever hesitated when he brought it up to full speed on the track. But he alsonever said a word on the radio until half way through the practice session.
Mired inthirty-second during practice, Jameson wasn’t pleased. “We need to change thisshit now!” he said speaking for the first time. “I can’t keep it out of thewall.”
“Okay,well come in and let’s see if maybe a spring rubber might help.”
“We’vemade those adjustments Kyle.” Jameson said annoyed. “It’s not helping!”
“I knowthat, Jameson. We’re trying but you know as well as I do it’s hard to predictthe changes the tracks going to make when the lights go out tomorrow. We haveto set it up for that.”
“Just giveme a good car.” Jameson responded immediately. “That’s all I’m asking for!”
Not morethan two laps later, Jameson wadded the car up in turn two after he brushed thewall in one, the back end came around on him. My heart leaped into my chest atthe force that he hit the wall. A thousand possibilities of different ways hecould have been injured shot through me.
The camerashot to Jameson’s in-car camera. I watched his breathing closely and thetrembling of his gloved hands. He hit the kill switch with an agitated flip ofhis wrist and then ripped away his air hose. His head tipped back against theseat and then his hand rose to the wheel pounding it a few times in frustration.
It wasevident that he was beyond pissed when he got out of the car. The safetyofficials wanted him to ride back to the infield care center but he wasn’thaving it and instead walked away to pit lane when they called an end to thepractice session to clean up the mess. His car was destroyed.
Making myway through the pits, I found Jameson back at the hauler standing outside of itsigning autographs for a few young boys who had gathered.
“Do youstill got it or did you lose the fire?” Brody stirred nudging Jameson with ataunting edge to his tone when he walked past.
Jameson’seyes opened into a glare regarding Brody briefly.
He stoodfrom his kneeling positing by the boy at his feet, shoulders tense and baring aburden again as he handed the boy in front of him his t-shirt he’d just signed.Looking at the boy, he smiled. “Here buddy. Enjoy the race tomorrow.”
When theboys were gone, Brody stood there in front of him trying to push a little moreas did the media.
“Jameson,”a young reporter jetted his microphone in Jameson’s face. “What happened outthere?”
I couldtell by the huff Jameson let out and pushed the reporter back a few feet. “I’mnot answering questions right now.”
“Come on man,”the reporter sighed brushing his hair from his face clearly taken back byJameson’s refusal. “Just one interview isn’t asking too much.”
