Page 69 of The Legend
It turnedout later; we had a few rockers that weren’t torched back at the shop backhome. That bent the push rod, held open the valve and allowed the piston to hitit. Everything came apart after that.
Disappointedand frustrated, I took the car to the truck. Sway met me at the hauler and wesnuck over to Tate’s pit box to watch with his crew chief, Jeb.
On the waythere, she leaned into my shoulder. “Sorry.”
Leaninginto her side, I whispered into her ear pulling her into my side. “You can’twin them all honey.”
Shegiggled tucking nicely under my arm. “Where’s my husband?”
By now, wewere at Tate’s pit so I just laughed at her.
“What’sthe points look like?” I asked Jeb pulling Sway on my lap.
He smiled.“He needs to get third or higher or you will win by one point.”
“Really?”Ithought for sure that I was mathematically out of it now but I also scored fivepoints for leading a few laps so that apparently gave me a small advantage.
If anyonewas going to beat me for the championship, I wanted it to be Tate.
I thoughtback to when Tyler won Turkey Night back in 98’ and I how I felt then. Like Isaid then, you want to win so badly but then you think about the other guy whowanted it just as badly. Over time, you gain an appreciation for every racerout there knowing their drive and variation is just as strong as yours or elsethey wouldn’t be here. It has to be because why else would they risk everythingto do this?
I’lladmit, when he took over third with one lap to go, I was disappointed but itwas a bittersweet moment.
And whenhe won, I was the first to congratulate him on pit road. I told him exactlywhat he told me back when I won my fifth championship over him. “It feels justas gratifying watching you win as it does winning.”
I wasn’tlying either. Iwasproud of Tate. Over the years he had become morethan a mentor on the track, he was one of my best friends.
Whenyou’re constantly pulled in different directions it’s the relationships insideof that tire variation you value the most. Over those years, I valued that themost.
10.Pinched – Jameson
Pinched –When a race car on the inside squeezes an outside car by the outside wall. Thiswill cause the outside car to slow down and follow.
It seems myschedule had become a revolving door. Home, away from home, the track, theshop, home and away again, and eventually you’re never anywhere but on the way.It seems you’re saying, “I’ll see you next week.” And then that turns into.“See you next month.” It’s an argument with your wife. “We’ll talk about itlater.” But you never do. It’s a conversation with your kids and asking them totake it easy on their mom but they never do. After a while you almost feel likethe “on the way” is never really an end. There’s no commitment to the life athome, no responsibility but you’re letting your absence become the tie thatbinds.
Whenyou’re present there are so many things that require your presence none of themget the attention they deserve.
During theoffseason I thought I would get a break since I didn’t win the championship butAlley had my schedule full. First was a photo shoot the week after the banquet.I didn’t like doing these things for the simple fact that wasn’t me. I wasn’tthe image they were creating of me in the photograph. It seemed easy, do aphoto shoot and get paid right, have some fun. But there’s so much more to itthan that. I do this photo shoot. They put the pictures in an ad or a billboardwith a product and suddenly I’m standing behind that product. Well maybe I dobelieve in that particular product or their business, but it doesn’t matteranymore. It’s a game their playing and I didn’t want any part of it. I wantedto race. I understood fans wanted an image to look up to but maybe I wasn’tthat image?
Again, weare allowed one image, one angle.
Peoplethink because I’m standing behind that particular product suddenly I’msomething to them, standing up for something they believe. Suddenly theybelieve I’m more compassionate than what I am or friendlier, easy going,capable of more things, but I’m not. Off the track I am the same as everyoneelse. I struggle just as easily as they would. But the public, the childlooking up to me wanting to do what I’ve done doesn’t believe that. Hyped by distanceand imagination, we become more heroic when we’re not that at all. We’re simplydoing something we love.
Alley wentwith me and I tried to get out of it numerous times. Her answer every time was,“Suck it up asshole.”
“Why doyou always schedule this shit for me. I don’t like getting my picture taken.”
Alleyglared as we opened the door to the studio. “It’s part of the job. You shouldknow that by now.”
When they,as in the flamboyant guy behind the lens and the Jersey snob beside him, toldme what I’d be doing, I said. “No. I’m not doing that.”
“You don’treally have a choice, Jameson,” Alley said barely making eye contact with me. Ihad a feeling she was holding back on what theyreallywanted to do.
“Oh yes Ido. I can leave.” She caught me by my hooded sweatshirt before I even made ittwo feet.
“You willget your ass back in there.” I couldn’t argue with that. These photo shootswere what sponsors paid for. Like it or not this was part of the game.
I did notenjoy that photo shoot at all. To me it was as invasive as that damn vasectomy.To add fuel to that particular fire, they put oil on me.Fuckingbaby oil.You can only imagine what that did to my mood after that.
