In flight entertainment, yesterday.
Gavin and I have often threatened to watch Nascar. It’s a form of motorsport that has so far failed to really pull us in beyond the grandeur of the opening ceremony. And what an opening ceremony it is. This is a spectacle you simply have to see to believe.
Picture, if you will, a racetrack facility roughly the size of Bloemfontein. Thousands of winnebagos dot the landscape, spewing over 100 000 drunken sunburnt fans into an arena of noise and product placement. The commentators are getting excited now, peppering their delivery with metaphors that make absolutely no sense. And then all is quiet. Over the gargantuan PA system, a voice rings out: “Let us pray.” A portly man with an awful comb-over holds command over his congregation, ending the prayer with the words: “and we pray for our armed forces, Amen”. Surreal, but we’re only just getting started.
Every human in a 18 mile radius now raises their hand to their heart as the very blonde Brittini Black (correct spelling, I swear) belts out the National Anthem. A few tears roll down a few cheeks as we get close-ups of the drivers and their girlfriends/wives. As the anthem deafens everyone into patriotism, a massive big rig truck in stunning silver parades around the track, flying the biggest Stars ‘n Stripes I’ve ever seen. And just as the anthem ends, five F16 Tornado fighter jets fly over in formation, roaring into the distance. Cue mad applause, beer, bear hugs, whoops and hollers: this is Nascar motherfucker, let’s go racing.
More cars than is necessary line up behind the pace car as the heavy southern accents of the commentators build the tension. The cry of the archaic, massive V8s is the only sound anyone can hear and as the green flag drops, 20 000 combined horsepower is unleashed. This sport isn’t terribly green.
Americans cover sport like no other nation on earth. An armada of cameras catches every moment on the track, with the best camera angles coming from the outside wall. The violent air coming off the cars shakes the camera almost off its mounts. As a viewer, it feels like you’re being shot at. Talladega is a superspeedway, which essentially means that the cars can reach insane speeds, deemed unsafe by the same authorities who are trying to stop the vehicles from taking off during crashes. So this is ‘restrictor-plate racing’, which, to be honest, I haven’t researched, but problably means a certain-sized plate is fitted under the accelerator pedal.
What this all means is that we have 50-odd cars travelling at exactly the same speed. To get ahead, you have to do something rather special. You have to draft. This is, quite simply, the daftest thing we have ever witnessed in motorsport. At over 200 mph, about 325km/h, two cars will ‘link up’ and push each other around the track. The rear car will nose up against the front car’s bumper, cancelling the drag on the second car. This gives the two of them an extra 10mph, and the effect is incredible. This handy diagram should help:
All of the above creates some of the tightest racing we’ve ever witnessed. The last millimetre of the last lap decided the race; a stunning draft-and-slingshot move by, um, a racing driver in an orange car, gave him the edge over a frustrated Montoya, who has never won an oval race. The last few laps featured a few massive smash ups, which just added to the tension towards the finish line.
Before Talladega this weekend, it would have been tough to get a good word out of us about Nascar. But hell, the scale is incredible, the speed is intoxicating and the noise frenetic. You’ve got to love the old-school charm of the pit stops; the barrel of fuel on a crewman’s shoulder, the roller-jack and the jigsaws for removing damaged body panels.
I think the irony of praying for your armed forces is about as lost on the fans as the fact that every car looks exactly the same. The constant barrage of advertising and sponsorships can get a bit tiresome and the ‘yee-ha-ness’ of it all tends to wane around the 147 laps mark, but over on this side of the Atlantic, where our top motorsport is so stuck up its own arse, Nascar is downright refreshing.
Grab a beer or six and enjoy.
Ciro De Siena
Tags: america, drafting, insane, large, madness, nascar, scale, v8
