From the "Fastball in the wheelhouse" department...

Somehow I can't see it marching down the red carpet. Photo from flickr.

So apparently there's a new documentary about the 24 Hours of Le Mans that is set to debut the weekend of Sebring.

That's not the exciting part. I'd be happy to see something like that regardless. But - BUT - it's called "Truth in 24," it's made by NFL Films (!) and is narrated by Jason Statham, aka my friend's official mancrush.

I don't quite remember asking for something so awesome (NFL Films has amazing cinematography and is a superb company, it focuses on Audi's march of dominance, pretty sure it's shot in HD, etc.) but I'll take it. Oh, and it's debuting on ESPN.

That's my jaw dropping to the floor, and me wondering if I can save enough to buy an HDTV by then. Should be absolutely awesome to see in full glory.

joy and sadness

Joy



Saturday reminded me of all that was good about college football and, by extension, sports in general. A scorching late-summer day, tens of thousands of fans wearing their school's colors (including those brave souls who dare tread on OUR HALLOWED GROUND in enemy hues), beers and burgers at the tailgate, the student section always standing and leading the noise factor, and - best of all - the home team, your team, blowing out their opponent.

The Ducks made a big push to earn even more recognition with their 52-21 blowout of Fresno State last Saturday. The same Fresno State team that took Texas A&M to the wall in three overtimes the previous week folded over like a house of cards in a hurricane against the Ducks. Even more impressive was the defense - not necessarily for the stats, but for their swarming, attacking style to pressure the line of scrimmage, harass the Bulldogs' quarterback, and shut down the run game. This was an almost-perfect game, and hopefully the team won't sit back on their laurels and pat themselves on the back too hard.

Sadness



A true rallying and auto racing legend died Sunday. Scottish-born rally racer Colin McRae passed away in a helicopter accident near his home in Scotland.

McRae - and his young son - both passed away too young (McRae himself was just 39 and still racing on occasion - his long World Rally Championship career had afforded him such a luxury as choosing what he wanted to do with his time). He was a licensed helicopter pilot and behind the sticks for the crash.

This was not the first crash in McRae's life - in fact, his nickname while still competing in rally racing was "McCrash." While this had a negative connotation, it also was given with reverence - YouTube clips abound showing McRae rolling his rally racer, kicking it back into gear and continuing to drive its nuts off. A few clips even include when he continued on a stage with just three wheels through the stage, where he could get the car fixed at the end.

Rally racing in general is hardcore - you have to be very talented and very brave to hurtle a four-wheel-drive car down narrow forest roads, sideways - and McRae was legendary for taking that stance even further. While some fans derided him for breaking machinery, those same people (and plenty of others) are heralding him for the dedication he showed in his driving style to press that hard, that close to the edge of adhesion.

Part of my auto racing viewing diet during middle and high school was WRC coverage on Speedvision (now Speed Channel), when Finland's Tommi Makkinen and Colin McRae were two juggernauts fighting for rallying supremacy. Makkinen in the Mitsubishi usually had the upper hand, but McRae was spectacular - seemingly in the lead or out of the rally. All, or nothing.



Racers like that seem to be fewer and fewer. Ayrton Senna was a god in that sense - he seemed to have super-sensory ability at judging that line. McRae may not have had as much ability as Senna, but by hell did he have more talent than most. Though he was moving more and more into the periphery of rallying and auto racing, he didn't deserve to pass on so early in life. He will be truly missed by racing fans and his family and friends.

Remembrance

Ayrton Senna da Silva, the great F1 driver who's death 13 years ago is still a major event in Formula 1 and European sports history. Photo from ayrton-senna.com

I remember it like it was yesterday. May 1, 1994, a sunny Sunday morning on the west coast of the United States, and my eight-year-old self preparing to watch the Formula 1 grand prix to be shown. I remember Ayrton Senna's on-board camera, a few laps in, showing the last fateful images from his car on the track. Such an innocuous-looking accident, though the speeds at which he lost control in the corner do lend themselves to the end result: the death of one of auto racing's greatest talents, greatest champions, and greatest sportsmen.

the other image after the race that sticks in my mind is the ABC World News that night showing the scene back in Senna's homeland of Brazil, where auto racing is second only to soccer and Senna is still regarded as one of their greatest sporting heroes.


The last image from Ayrton Senna's car before his accident and death. Photo from ayrton-senna.com


His car, after impact. It is believed Senna died at impact.

I only fully realized what his life and death meant as I grew into my teens and became a more knowledgeable fan of Formula 1 racing. This came around when his death hit it's 10th-year anniversary in 2004 and Speed Channel showed a special episode of their historic highlights series on the race weekend. This was a black weekend for racing: Not only did Senna pass away in the race, but fellow Brazilian Rubens Barrichello was lucky to only suffer a concussion in an accident in practice Friday, Austrian rookie Roland Ratzenberger was killed in qualifying, and a couple more horrible accidents in the race (including one at the start) made this an ultimate low point for Formula 1 and the world of racing.

To draw an American analogy, it's as if Michael Jordan had passed away from a heart attack on the court at Madison Square Garden during a game. That's how important and influential he was to the world of auto racing, and how important his death was to a large part of the world.



here's a tribute video (complete with slightly cheesy/slightly corny rendition of System of a Down's "Lonely Day" as the background music) to that weekend, showing the horrific accidents that mark the weekend. I still wonder how different the racing world would be if he hadn't passed away.

get your motor runnin'

One day, my car will get onto the inside of Portland Int'l Raceway and see some action. Until then, it will wait with baited breath. Photo by Doug Bonham.

It's no secret at all that I love sports. And another fact for sports fans is that, oftentimes, what inspires a young man or woman to follow sports is a link from a parent - I'm partially a baseball fan because it came from my dad, just as my dad was a baseball fan because his dad was. For many Americans this comes for basketball, football, or baseball...not as often does it come up for auto racing.

There are two hobbies I've had for longer than I can literally remember: cars and auto racing, and video games. When I go to races now and see fathers with their little sons, who have great big earphones to protect their ears, I get both nostalgic and a little jealous - nostalgic, because I remember when that was me, and jealous because I wish I had that sweet ear protection back in the day; I just had ear plugs, which rarely worked (now, though, I go au natural. Ear plugs are for wusses).



It was over 100 degrees, and a Saturday after a week of 100-degree days, but I still loved seeing the ALMS last year. Shame I was one of about 20 people there. Photo by Doug Bonham

As with many other aspects of my life, my relationship with auto racing rotates around an axis of love and hate. I love the American Le Mans Series and Champ Cars; I hate that they draw about as well as a Vanilla Ice cover band. I love following Formula 1 racing from around the world, but hate how much it costs: not only in even dreaming of traveling to a race, but in how much digital cable costs to receive the network that carries F1 in the US, SPEED Channel (strangely, it's on basic cable both on the Oregon coast and in the Columbia River Gorge; yes, both my grandparents have SPEED, while I don't. SHIT).

This means I turn into something of a junkie when it comes to watching actual racing on TV. I knew the Champ Car race was going to be on ESPN Sunday afternoon, but it started earlier than I thought it would; when my roommates (flipping between baseball, playoff basketball, and bad movies on TNT and Comedy Central) hit ESPN and the race, I went berserk. "LEAVE IT HERE" I almost screamed, foam spewing out and hitting the screen and my roommates.

of course they didn't understand. To them, and many of the uninitiated masses, auto racing is simple: how hard is it to drive a car around a track? Well, it's pretty damned difficult to do that for nearly two hours and do it quickly, but that's another argument. The aesthetics to watching racing are a bit more subtle; it's not as immediately rewarding, but watching a really good battle for position is as rewarding as anything else in sports. Much like with soccer, it's not the frequency of actual scoring (or passes) that matters, it's the build up: watching two drivers (or more sometimes) dicing for position before a decisive pass is attempted.

this is one of two legs upon which I stand and loathe NASCAR: passing is cheapened to the point where it is unrewarding and almost counter-productive to watch a full NASCAR race. The other leg is its horrible spread of commercialization; F1 handles their commercial side much better, while involving as many (if not more) blue-chip companies in the process. NASCAR is the carnival-caller mentality blown up ad naseum, which the NFL suffers from as well to a certain degree.

I still harbor dreams of doing some amateur SCCA autocrossing and light-caliber racing with my own car at a later date, but that's almost going to be another lifetime from now. Until then, though, I will follow auto racing with the eye of somebody mature enough to understand politics and savvy enough to understand the subtleties of the sport, while maintaining the wide-eyed youthful enthusiasm I've had ever since I first stepped foot at Portland International Raceway with my dad to see the Indy Cars.