NASCAR Hall celebrates history, unkind to the present

I was at the NASCAR Hall of Fame over the weekend. It is a wonderful museum, one that really allows the fans of today to connect with the past. Even someone like me, with only a passing knowledge of the sport, left the building feeling like I knew everything about the sport's history. I feel like I'm an expert on Richard Petty (greatest of all-time), Dale Earnhardt (most intimidating), Junior Johnson (greatest all-around), Darrell Waltrip (most polarizing), Wendell Scott (the Jackie Robinson of NASCAR), Tim Richmond (biggest partier), David Pearson (how was he not in the inaugural Hall of Fame class) and so many others.

From all accounts, Sunday's induction of the inaugural class of enshrinees (Petty, Johnson, Earnhardt and executives Bill France Sr. and Bill France Jr.) was a wonderful tribute not only to those honored but also to the sport's entire history. Something often ignored now has a museum for which it will always be remembered.

(Side note: it's amazing to me that NASCAR didn't already have a Hall of Fame. I always just assumed that Petty was a Hall of Famer. Little did I know that he wasn't, because he couldn't be, at least until now.)

But there is one problem with the Hall of Fame: it made me really worried about NASCAR's present. This is a sport with a real history, one filled with colorful characters who really didn't care one bit about their safety. Dale Earnhardt wasn't afraid to die (and he did). Junior Johnson spent his childhood making illegal moonshine runs and even was called upon by the Hall of Fame to build a moonshine still inside the museum, since those illegal moonshine runs were the early racing that ultimately would become stock car racing. Tim Richmond was a bad ass driver who drove fast and aggressively and lived fast and aggressively (which is why he died slow and painfully, of AIDS in 1989). The Allison brothers, Bobby and Donnie, actually tag-teamed Cale Yarborough in a fist fight at the end of the 1979 Daytona 500. All of this stuff is celebrated at the Hall of Fame. I learned that NASCAR's history is filled with tough guys, cool cats (even as a non-NASCAR person, I have a hard time coming up with a list of people in all walks of life cooler than Petty) and crazy characters.

You never would know this if you're just learning about the sport now. The sport has been so neutered that it's impossible to relate its history to its present. It used to be that Bristol was the site of one wreck after another. Not anymore. It used to be that insanely fast speeds made Atlanta semi-dangerous. Not anymore. It used to be that the Coke 600 went all night because the extra 100 miles created more time for more aggressive driving and more wrecks. Not anymore. It used to be that winning the race was first and foremost. Not anymore.

The things I learned about NASCAR's history don't even resemble the NASCAR I know now. I don't see a single driver who goes for the win with any sort of regularity anymore. Instead, I see a bunch of drivers who are content to just finish the entire race, knowing that if they're on one of the big time teams they're pretty much assured of a top-15 finish each week and if they manage this, they'll have a chance at the championship at the end of the season. Earlier this season, Jimmie Johnson had three wins and the quartet of Jamie McMurray, Denny Hamlin, Ryan Newman and Kurt Busch had won the other four, yet those four other winners weren't even in the top-12 that make The Chase. Of course nothing better personifies this than the 2003 season, during which Matt Kenseth won the championship even though he won only one race. Ryan Newman won eight races, twice as many as anyone else, yet finished sixth. Kurt Busch's four wins were the second most and he finished 11th. I'm pretty sure that whoever it was who first came up with the saying that a system is broken had 2003 NASCAR season in mind when he came up with it. (How crazy was 2003? So crazy that Robby Gordon and Michael Waltrip each managed to win two races.)

It's also clear that the money involved has made today's drivers pansies. The sponsorship money drivers were getting as recently as 10 years ago pales in comparison to what they make today. Between the television money paid by partners Fox, Turner and ESPN (money that didn't exist in 2000) and the increasing fees paid by sponsors, a driver can make $4 million in a season simply by qualifying for and finishing each race, and that's before the sponsor's individual payment to the team. Dale Earnhardt died in his car in 2001, driving in an era when the money was good but not great. Why would any driver today drive to win when it could kill them (even though I don't think a driver actually could die in his car with how safe they have been made in the aftermath of Earnhardt's death, unless he did something unconscionably stupid) and when dying would prevent them from earning and living off the millions they make?

Fox Sports czar David Hill expressed concern about dwindling ratings in NASCAR. I can't say I'm surprised. The NASCAR I discovered while at the Hall of Fame doesn't exist today and until NASCAR gets closer to the sport they presented in the old days and further away from the product they're putting out there now, why would anyone watch? The races we see now are boring. The drivers have no personality whatsoever. No one drives aggressively. They're all just content to get their sponsor's check and not crash.

I feel like Petty, Johnson, Pearson and the others of the day must be appalled by the racing they see now. Yet what can they do? They're part of a different generation, an era where winning was everything. I fear those days are gone forever. Fortunately, they are preserved in the Hall of Fame, reminding lifelong fans and teaching newbies like myself that NASCAR once was an exciting and colorful sport.