Michael Waltrip - In the Blink of an Eye: Dale, Daytona, and the Day that Changed Everything

FOR MY HEROES:

If not for Darrell, I never would have started dreaming.

If not for Richard, I might still be dreaming.

If not for Dale, I dont believe my dreams would have ever come true.

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I t was the four hundred and sixty-third time I had heard the National Anthem before a NASCAR Cup race. But somehow the song sounded different that day.

More hopeful. More heartfelt. Loaded with emotion, optimism, and opportunity.

O! say can you see by the dawns early light

What so proudly we hailed at the twilights last gleaming,

Who are those boys up there singing? I wondered. O-Town? Yeah, Ive heard of them. But they werent the reason the song sounded special to me. It was where I was and what I knew could happen there: the Daytona International Speedway, February 18, 2001, a beautiful Sunday afternoon, opening day of my most anticipated NASCAR season ever.

Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous fight,

Oer the ramparts we watched, were so were gallantly streaming?

As the song continued, I thought: I love this racetrack. I love its high-banked turns and the tight racing action. Daytona was the perfect track to me. Running in the draft was what I did best. Being in Daytona always made me feel like a kid again. From the first time I laid eyes on that amazing track as an eleven-year-old boy, it had always felt like home to me. And there I stood beside my new ride, the #15 NAPA car, a car I knew I could win in. My crew was behind me. My confidence was solid. My karma was balanced, whatever karma is. Id heard people use that expression before. I was surrounded by many of the people I loved: my wife, Buffy. My daughters, Caitlin and Macy. A whole bunch of other family and friends. They were all at the track that Sunday. They believed in me. They always had. All of us sensed this day could be something we would never forget.

This was my first race with my new team. Not just any team, either. I had joined Dale Earnhardt, Inc. My new boss was one of NASCARs greatest drivers ever. He was also proving to be a brilliant team owner. Dale built winners. His teams had won championships in NASCAR, first in the truck series and then, with his son Dale Junior driving, in the Busch series too. After those championships, Dale turned his teams focus to Cup racing, where the big boys play. He was already winning there.

As I looked up ahead of me on the grid, I saw Dale standing beside his famous black #3 Chevy. I felt so lucky to be on his team. I was driving for the Man. The Intimidator, race fans called him. He was wildly aggressive and fiercely competitive. His driving style defined what our sport was all about. Dale had won seven NASCAR Cup championships. He and Richard Petty were tied with the most. The previous season, Dale had almost gotten his eighth. Pushing fifty, he still had it.

Dale and I had shared a lot of good times together. He was my friend.

And the rockets red glare, the bombs bursting in air,

As the O-Town boys made their way through the hard-to-sing part, my mind was wandering all over the place: How did they get this gig? Wouldnt Hank Junior be more NASCAR? Aw, look at that. I could see Dale up there putting his arm around Teresa, his wife. Smooth move, Dale, I thought. I put my arm around Buffy. Dale was my mentor, after all, and my racing coach and my hang-out-and-go-fishin buddyand now, he was my car owner too. That meant he would be an ally on the track. Man, that sounded great! The guy who racers dreaded seeing in their mirror was now my partner and my boss. Just two days earlier, he had explained to me how we were going to win the Daytona 500. That was amazing. But Ill tell you more about that later.

Ever since I was a kid, Daytona was where I wanted to be in February. NASCAR kicked off every year with a bang, the Super Bowl of stock-car racing. That meant my first race on Dales team would be the forty-third running of the Great American Race, the Daytona 500.

Winning the 500 is every NASCAR racers dream. To join the list of names inscribed on the Harley J. Earl trophy makes you part of the sports elite. Richard Pettys name is on there seven times. Dale is there too, along with my brother Darrell. So are David Pearson, Jeff Gordon, Jimmie Johnson, Bobby Allison, Cale Yarborough, and Mario Andretti. And thats just some of them. I fantasized about my name being on there with the greats. I certainly wasnt shy about dreaming large, was I?

Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.

Oh, I get it, I said to myself. O-Town, Orlando. They live close by. Hanks all the way up in Tennessee. Guess he didnt want to make the trip down.

Going into this race, I had been on quite a roll. A bad roll. Do I know a bad roll when Im stuck on one? Yes, I think I do. This roll was four hundred and sixty-two NASCAR Cup losses long, without a single win. Thats right, 0462.

There. I said it.

All those losses: That was always the pink elephant in most any room I was in.

Four hundred and sixty-two times in a row, I had started my engine in a NASCAR Cup race and taken a green flag. When the checkered flag flew and I pulled in and shut my engine off, there was not a trophy queen in sight. No confetti flying. No champagne corks in the air. I had become very familiar with the look of long faces after long races.

In the previous fifty-three years of NASCAR history, no one had ever lost that many races in a rowand then won one. All drivers lose more than they win. Even the King, Richard Petty. He got beat over eight hundred times. Of course, he also won a record two hundred races along the way. You do the math. Thats about one in every five starts the King would win. I think that puts my 0462 into perspective, dont you?

I wondered why all that losing wasnt bothering me that day. Because it didnt bother Dale, I guess. He hired me and told me Id win in his car. And I believed him.

O! say does that star-spangled banner yet wave

I was thinking about all that and a whole lot more as I stood with my hand on my heart. My head was crowded with all kinds of junk that didnt matter. I was glad it was almost time to climb into my car. When I got in there, nothing but racing would be getting in with me. But for a little while longer, my mind was shooting everywhere. I sure was missing my dad. He had always been in Daytona with me. He would have been so happy seeing me all suited up and ready to go racing for Dale.

It sure felt weird that Darrell wasnt racing with me this time. It was my first 500 without him on the track with me. But hed be watching from way up top. It was his first day on his new job, calling the action for Fox television. My momma was going to love this, I thought. I could picture her back in North Carolina in front of that big TV I bought her, listening to DW talk about his little brother while the whole world watched with her.

Oer the land of the free and the home of the brave?

What happened after those boys stopped singing would ultimately change my life. If youre thinking, Oh, what a sweet story! Michael Waltrip finally wins a race!youre right. I did. But there was so much more to it than that. In the blink of an eye, everything changed. And not just for me. Many peoples lives would never be the same. Racing wouldnt. NASCAR wouldnt. Millions of people around the world would feel like something important had been snatched from themand it would have been.

Up until now, I havent talked much about that day in Daytona. And I know the story better than anyone. For ten years, I did everything I could to avoid focusing on it at all. I didnt want to go there. It was too painful. The memories hurt too much. And besides, I didnt understand what some parts of the story meant. It was too deep for me. When people asked, I would change the subject. If they persisted, I would leave the room. For years, my strategy was just to squish it down and keep it there. Any psychologist would say thats a bad strategy, but I thought I could make it work for me. Never once, until recently, had I even watched the TV coverage or a video of the race. I certainly knew the outcome, and I didnt want to relive it.