Page 24 of The Legend
Shescreamed and clapped her hands just like every other proud mother of their sonwhen he waved to the crowd.
Throwingmy arm around her, I pulled her close to my side and whispered in her ear. “Ilove you.”
Therumbling of twenty-four sprint cars shook the stands we were standing in as shesmiled up at me.
“You better.”She said leaning into my side watching the cars passed by. “Your daughter toldme to fuck off tonight.”
“Is thatwhy you were late getting to the track?”
“Yeah, Ihad to put her in her place.”
As theypassed by the start finish line, they shot down the front stretch for four hotlaps before filling back in to two wide for the start.
I lookedover at Sway again. “He’s nervous.”
“He’ll befine. I can feel it. This will be his night.”
It feltsomewhat strange to me standing in the stands at Knoxville when every otheryear I was on the track.
Axelstarted mid pack in eighth position and had some heavy hitters in front of himlike Tyler and Justin (two of my guys racing for JAR Racing). Cody Bowman, my otherdriver, missed the feature when he got tangled with another driver out ofAustralia during the heat races.
Thatnight, Axel did exactly what I told him to do. He stopped caring about the winand had fun. I watched as he messed with Justin, bumping his right rear justenough to cause him to slip on entry and then would pull back to let him takehis position back. I knew at any given moment Axel’s car was faster but he wasrelaxing and getting comfortable again. This meant fucking with Justin and itwas something they both enjoyed doing.
TheKnoxville Nationals was a four-day show with the final event on Saturday nightbeing a fifty-lap feature. With twenty to go in the fifty-lap main, Axel wassitting in third with Justin and Tyler in front of him. It looked like Tylerwas going to pull off his fifth Knoxville Nationals win when Axel took threeand four high and shot pass both of them. There was no way his car was thatmuch faster then there’s so immediately I thought something was wrong and randown to Tommy and Willie standing near the wall watching. Tommy pulled hisheadset aside when he noticed me.
“What’sgoing on?” I threw my hands up. “Did something break?”
There weretimes just before an engine blew that you got the most power out of the enginebefore disaster struck. It’s exactly what I thought had happened.
Tommysmiled, his orange curls stood on end as the cars roared back. The sound wasalmost deafening this close to the track. When they got in to turn oneand two, Axel was spreading his lead to a five-car cushion. Smooth, not jerky,lines indicated the car seemed fine.
“You knowwhat the problem has been all along?” Tommy’s eyes shifted from mine to the laptimes on his watch. “It was never the car or the set-up.”
“What?”Willie started bouncing beside us with the rest of the crew knowing this couldbe the kids’ first win. His hands clasped in front of his face, his headbobbing as he continued to bounce with excitement. Casten leaned forward overthe wall watching closely.
“You,”Tommy replied.
“Me?” Ibalked. “What the fuck did I do?”
“Youweren’t here with him.” His eyes glanced at the track momentarily, and thenback to me. “He needed you to calm him down. That kid depends on your advice. Itried in Lincoln. Jimi tried in Williams Grove when he nearly won but it’s youfor some reason that puts him at ease out there.”
Was itme?
It wastrue. I had yet to see a feature race with the way our schedules collidedconstantly. Looking back over the years, you never realize the impact you have onyour children until someone else points it out. I only told him to relax. Howwould that be the advice he needed?
“He neededto hear it from you.” Tommy answered though I hadn’t said the words out-loud.
I stoodthere dumbfounded when Tommy leaned into my shoulder as the white flag waved.“You might want to pay attention. History is being made.”
Historywas being made again. Two years ago, I won Knoxville Nationals when I came outhere for fun. Last year, in his final season, my dad won. This year, cominginto three and four, was my son flying out of two with a ten-car lead. He threwthe car hard into three, clay roosted up spraying the wall we stood next to asthe powerful rumble of his car popped as he lifted. He blipped the throttle toslide into the slick corner nearly bumping the wall before dipping down on theinside to take the checkered flag.
Historyhad been made.
Axel Rileywas the third generation driver, and third consecutive win for our family here,won Knoxville Nationals.
I’m notsure who was louder, the screams from the fans or the screams from our family,my wife in particular. I’d never heard her cheer so loud but then again, I wasalways racing. Maybe she was always this loud.
With thethick crowd I couldn’t get down to the infield where Axel had pulled himselffrom the car to celebrate his win. I could see him though, on the screen,smiling, standing on the rear tires to do the wing dance.
