I also enjoyed my opportunity to meet and talk with Buz McKim, official NASCAR Historian. He and I discussed the NASCAR Hall of Fame in Charlotte and my special appreciation for the presentation in the movie theater and the third floor where all the historic exhibits are displayed. I realize there are those of you who have no intention of visiting the Hall of Fame, and I respect that, but you need to know that talking with Buz McKim, there is no doubt that he is into the preservation of the history of the sport and the heritage we race fans appreciate. Buz is a class act.
Now, having told of my adventures in “Sparklecity” as we used to call the place back in CB days, let me get to the meat of this Legendtorial. As we all have been told since the beginning of time, you do NOT discuss politics or religion with other folks. There is also another topic that fosters endless discussion between race fans and non-race fans, and the likely outcome of such discussions will, at best, end with an agreement to disagree. Let me explain.
When I left the museum in Spartanburg Friday and headed back to Columbia, I decided to stop off at a fast food restaurant to eat before the drive. I pulled into the parking lot of one of those places the cows spend so much time advertising with their poorly spelled enticements to enjoy other meals besides beef. As I was getting out of my van, a white van pulled up next to me and out piled 12 teenagers, boys and girls, dressed as “cows” with some very imaginative outfits. The driver was a man about 40, a little overweight, but obviously in charge of this herd of hungry bovine-humans. As the kids were obviously impatient and excited, I let them ahead of me (not that I could have stopped them anyway) in line. The deal was, I discovered, that if you came dressed as a cow, you got a free meal. I admit I was touched when one of the teenagers asked me if I would like some of her “spots” which were cut out white cardboard affixed to her shirt with tape. She said she had plenty and she would give me some so I could get a free meal. I declined, but I was impressed with her generosity to a total stranger.
When we all sat down to eat, the man in charge of the group ended up sitting directly across from me. Of course, he was reading the lettering on my shirt which proclaimed, “RacersReuion” on the left breast and “The Legend” on the right breast. He asked me about that and I explained about our website and my distinction of being known as The Legend. He chuckled and said that he was glad to know someone else who was not athletic, as all he did was play golf, although he was the swim coach for all these kids he was chaperoning. I asked him what he meant and he said he had always believed racing was fixed and that drivers were not athletes. I have been down that road since my early days in high school when the football jocks and basketball jocks would tell me how they could drive cars just like the race drivers, but I couldn’t play either sport. They were right about my lack of ability with footballs and basketballs. I was not inclined to play stick and ball sports, and even today I care very little for any of those past college football and college baseball. I knew there was no point in trying to educate this golf ball chasing gentleman further than quoting Mark Twain by saying “Golf is a good walk spoiled." He laughed, but the conversation sort of ended with him. It was, however, immediately picked up by some of the kids who wanted to know all about my racing and why I was in Spartanburg. I was very happy to entertain them with a few short stories in the 20 minutes we sat there.
As I drove down I-26 back to Columbia, I thought back over all those days of trying to prove my point to the great athletes of the world (high school ball players) that drivers were, indeed, every bit the athlete a baseball, football, basketball player, and in the case of my swim coach and newly acquired friend, swimmers and golfers are. I remembered that many years ago I had read an article written by Bob Talbert, who at the time, wrote for The State Newspaper but went on to The Detroit Free Press and enjoyed a stellar career there for a number of years before retiring. Bob was inducted into the Michigan Journalism Hall of Fame for all he did, especially for the more than 9,000 columns he wrote for the Free Press. Bob covered motorsports for The State in the 60s and was a great mentor to Joe Whitlock and Jim Hunter. It occurred to me that I had recently come across that very article. I slept on it and during the night it came to me that I had read that in the program for the 1961 Daytona 500 which I just happened to have on the bookshelf in The Lair. So I pulled that out for a refresher.
What I found was that Bob had actually written a letter to then Attorney General of South Carolina, Daniel B. McLeod because the A.G. had given an opinion that motorsports could not run on Sundays in the “blue-law” state of South Carolina. That opinion, so the A. G. stated, was because racing did not involve athletics, as did the stick and ball sports. I just re-read that letter and it is beyond awesome!
I would love to have time and room to include the entire letter here, but I don’t. (*editor's note: PDF file of document and letter inserted here ) I do want to quote, directly from this letter by Bob Talbert as printed in the Official Program for the 1961 Daytona 500, the points Bob made at the time, as follows:
“Mr.McLeod, the automobile racer is an athlete, make no mistake about that.
He has to have the strength of a boxer.
He has to have the skill of a professional boxer
He has to have the reflexes of a shortstop.
He has to have the quickness and ability of a basketball guard.
He has to have the stamina of a swimmer.
He has to have the mind of a professional quarterback.
He has to have the heart of a distance runner.
He has to train.
He has to be in condition.”
Bob goes on to ask Attorney General McLeod if he has ever driven a distance of 500 miles on a trip. We do not know Mr. McLeod’s answer to that but Bob assures him it is a backbreaking to do so without a rest stop or two or three.
Bob continues, quoting again now “No other sport, Mr. McLeod, contact or otherwise has the elements of auto racing”. Bob ends his letter with “Indeed they (race drivers) are athletes of a separate and highly skilled breed. They are men who combine the toughest, best, strangest and most competitive elements of all athletes. They are athletes, Mr. McLeod, make no mistake about that.”
At the time Bob wrote this letter he was the President of the Carolina Motorsports Writers Association. That organization long ago disappeared or was morphed into some new and sophisticated name contrived from the imagination of someone. Daniel McLeod long ago faded into political history in South Carolina and is deceased I believe. Races are run in South Carolina on Sunday now, if the track so chooses, although our one NASCAR venue, in Darlington, runs on Saturday night. But the essence of what Bob wrote in such plain language is the best statement ever made, in my opinion, to support the point that drivers are athletes, for whatever finite honor such a designation may hold. I only support the argument because I don’t want some white ball chasing, club swinging, swim coach telling me that my sport isn’t worth consideration as a viable sport. Oh, I did forget to mention earlier, that he was dressed in a full and complete cow suit, including the swishing tale.
So, my swim coach friend, if you happen to be listening tonight, thanks for bringing Bob Talbert’s letter back to my mind. I’m going to print off this Legendtorial and keep it in my van so the next time I encounter someone like you, I can reel off the bullet points Bob Talbert made some fifty plus years ago. Bob took on the State Attorney General so surely I can take on whoever else wants to give it a go. Assuredly I won’t win. But then, neither will my adversary. For, you see, we are all entitled to our opinions. I will endeavor to respect yours and would request the same respect. After all, Mr. Swim Coach, one of your team was going to give me some of her “spots” so I could get a free dinner. I don’t know her name, but I will long remember her spirit. I don’t think I ever got your name, but that matters not. I’ll just call you Arnie, or Jack, or Tiger. You can just call me... The Legend.
-Tim
Email: legendtim83@yahoo.com
Twitter: @legendtim83
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