The races used to come to Phoenix International Raceway every March in Arizona, but this year, NASCAR came in February. The weather channel had predicted a heavy rainfall to pour on that Sunday the cars were supposed to race; however, by some odd miracle, the sun shined through scattered clouds giving the perfect weather conditions for an awesome race.
On that Sunday, fans from all over the country arrived to watch the Sprint Cup Series racecars fly around the racetrack three hundred and twelve times going almost two hundred miles an hour. Like most races, thousands of people of all different colors, shapes, and sizes came cheer on their favorite driver. It was like a madhouse while trying to walk to the stadium, holding on tight to the person accompanying me in an effort to not lose one another, dodging through crowds of people. If there was ever a perfect place to “people watch” this was the place. There were men with beards, some with just the classic foo-man-chew, others with large sideburns. Some fans were sporting their driver’s memorabilia, whether is was just a simple hat on their head or pajama pants with a repetitive pattern of a driver’s number plastered all over. Or there were even the extremely supportive fans that had applied face paint to various parts of their body in order to overly express their encouragement. As we made our way to the gate to get into the stadium and to our hill seats, it seemed like the sea of people continued to expand the further we walked.
Now I have to admit, when I originally thought of NASCAR, I thought of rednecks and beer as well as Ricky Bobby from Talladega Nights; yet, once I finally experienced more then one race, I found so much more then I could have anticipated. Of course, there were some rednecks and definitely a lot of beer, but there were also just very passionate fans and families out to support their favorite driver. I once asked an extreme NASCAR fan to list three things he thinks of when I mention NASCAR fans and this was his response, “Wild, intense, and passionate.” He said that fans do get wild and rowdy when at a race because of the intense passion they have for the sport. “It’s practically three and a half hours of constant stress when watching a race because it’s not a 50/50 chance of your driver winning, it’s much less then that, so as a fan in the stands (or on the hill), all you can do is stress and express your intense emotions while you cross your fingers that your driver doesn’t crash or get spun out. That is why we get so wild.” So the idea that I originally had of NASCAR fans being rednecks with beer was not quite accurate, in fact, it was not quite right at all. Once seated on the hill, I took another glance around and found a variety of people surrounding me. There was a couple of fathers below me with their sons trying to have some quality bonding time as they cheered for Jeff Gordon to win, there was another family below them with flags waving in memory of Dale Earnheart, who passed away ten years ago, and there was a drunk guy with headphones on swaying to his own rhythm as he listened in on what the newscasters had to say, but for the most part the people at the NASCAR event were just loyal fans looking to show their support for driver in America’s top sport.
***Sorry this was such an abrupt blog. I had a hard time getting into this particular prompt.***
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