JETHRO BOVINGDON
Is NASCAR just a dull procession to non-american eyes? Jethro finds out
‘It’s the Roman Colosseum played out with flame-spitting exhausts and 190mph bump drafting’
HOMER SIMPSON SITS IN THE GRANDSTAND at a baseball game, eyes wide and unblinking. He’s on day 14 of a 30-day commitment not to let a sip of Duff beer pass his lips. Earlier in ‘Duffless’ (season 4, episode 16) Homer and his friend Barney had toured the Duff factory and, unsurprisingly, the tragicomic drunk is in a bit of a state. Homer volunteers to drive his friend home and receives a DUI from Chief Wiggum. Marge is furious and insists Homer stay sober for a month.
At the baseball game Homer’s sobriety transforms him into an honorary citizen of, well, anywhere outside of the US. The commentator calls out the bemusing lack of action: ‘The batter is calling for Time. Looks like he’s getting a new bat. And now there’s a beach ball on the field. The ball boys are in discussion about which of them is going to go get it.’ Homer grimaces. Quietly he speaks aloud his epiphany: ‘I never realised how boring this game is.’
I’m at the Daytona 500. The opening round of the NASCAR championship held in Daytona Beach, Florida, at the International Raceway, the self-proclaimed ‘World Center of Racing’. Just like Major League Baseball’s annual competition is the World Series. It’s funny how American culture spreads far and wide and yet their major sports simply do not travel beyond the borders. Oh, and there’s country music playing almost constantly. That doesn’t travel well, either.
Anyway, I feel like Homer at the baseball.
A lonely soul amongst a vast crowd of eager race fans. The grandstand opposite pit road has a capacity of 150,000 and not a single seat is empty. It’s staggering in scale and heartening to see such tangible adoration of the cars and drivers. Me? I’m worried that maybe I’m about to realise just how boring NASCAR really is. No Duff can pass my lips. I have a two-hour drive straight after the race. All 200 laps will be witnessed stone-cold sober.
It’s worth arriving early because access to the cars and drivers is terrific, there’s loads of entertainment laid on (admittedly some of it involves country music) and as well as milling around pit garages you can even wander onto the banking itself just before the race starts. NASCAR is a pretty good day out. Before the race starts.
The cars themselves are spectacular, too. The ‘Next Generation’ model was introduced in 2022 and the archaic previous model with a four-speed manual ’box and live rear axle is long gone. The new car has a control Dallara chassis with independent suspension, Xtrac sequential ’box, 18-inch centre-lock wheels (yes, the pit crew had to wrangle five-stud wheels in previous years) and greater aerodynamic efficiency. Luckily, it sticks to tradition in some areas and the three manufacturers – Ford, Chevy and Toyota – supply their own 5.86-litre pushrod V8s producing 670bhp and revving to over 9000rpm.
The vast stage is set for intensely close racing. The cars are deafeningly loud and lairy. There will be crashes. It’s the Roman Colosseum played out with flame-spitting exhausts and 190mph bump drafting. And yet, still, I can’t quite believe it will be much fun. A novelty? Yes. A life-affirming shockwave of V8 noise and semi-drunk fans baying for bent metal? Certainly. But can it hold the interest of somebody not raised on oval racing? Somebody neither drunk nor American?
The first few laps are awe-inspiring. The noise as 40 cars howl past at close to the double-ton is frightening. Bodywork flutters and appears to be peeling away as they bump and jostle. There are no overtakes yet and it seems improbable there ever could be. Daytona is huge but every square inch from the lower yellow line to the concrete wall at the top of the banking is filled with Mustang, Camaro or, yes, Camry. It’s breathless.
The lull that follows is long and confusing. Despite the 500 awarding points after different stages (at laps 65, 130 and finally at 200) nobody appears to want to make a move in the first 50 laps or so. I want a beer. Maybe three beers. And a shot. Then things happen but I can’t comprehend how. Cars leap up the order and then fall back just as quickly. Any overtake results in a crash. Fun and chaotic but it seems like a lottery. I am Homer.
Then it all goes bonkers. Crashes, cautions, more crashes, proper oh-my-gawd overtakes at impossible speeds. There’s a remarkable cocktail of hammering noise, massive velocity, stunning precision and eye-watering bravery played out so vividly it’s impossible not to feel a strong sense of impending doom and gleeful ‘can this really be allowed?’ excitement. The Daytona 500 comes alive and blows my preconceptions clean away. It’s not perfect. There are large portions of the race where you could go and buy a hot dog (recommended) without missing a thing. But this is real and scary and almost poetically graceful at times. Truth is, until you go and watch you’ll never realise just how fantastic NASCAR is. No Duff required.