Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: SUNDAY, May 22, 1994                   TAG: 9405220138
SECTION: SPORTS                    PAGE: C-8   EDITION: METRO 
SOURCE: BOB ZELLER
DATELINE: CONCORD, N.C.                                LENGTH: Medium

AT THE TRACK, RACERS CELEBRATE LIFE, NOT DEATH

Auto racing is the least appealing of all sports, according to Thomas Boswell of The Washington Post. For every ounce of bravery, a racer displays 10 pounds of stupidity, Boswell has written.

The fans who follow racing are ardent supporters "of the right of human beings to mangle and kill themselves in space-age coffins," asserts Bob Molinaro of The (Norfolk) Virginian-Pilot Ledger-Star.

Those with sensitive souls may not want to spend their time here.

Yes, major-league automobile racing has had a bad spell in 1994 - two deaths in the NASCAR Winston Cup series and two in Formula One - and when that happens, columnists such as Boswell and Molinaro, who otherwise never write about auto racing, arrive on our doorstep with their well-worn sermons about auto racing being a blood sport.

Beat it back to the ballpark, guys. We've heard it all before.

You think this is bad? You should have been around in 1933, when five drivers and mechanics were killed at Indianapolis in the month of May.

Boswell argues that auto racing is the least legitimate sport because of the threat of death. I think that makes it the most legitimate sport.

I guess his feeling is that life should not be risked in the pursuit of sport.

Mankind's biggest sport is politics. And the all-too-frequent result is war. But we do not condemn those reporters and photographers who risk their lives, and sometimes lose their lives, bringing us the gruesome pictures and stories of the latest conflict.

And yet most of them do it for the same reason a drivers race. It makes them feel more alive than anything else they know.

But in the politically-correct world envisioned by Boswell and Molinaro, we would not have auto racing.

By the same token, we would have to ban mountain climbing, deep-sea diving, horse racing, sky diving, the Blue Angels, downhill skiing, bobsledding and all high-wire acts without a net. And anyone caught trying to ride over Niagara Falls in a barrel would be put away for a long, long time.

Of course, there's plenty of misfortune and uncivilized behavior in the traditional sports, too: ugly brawls and beanballs in baseball; scores of paralyzed young football players; legalized assault and battery in hockey and boxing; and wholesale slaughter in soccer riots.

One of Boswell's favorite sports - golf - is largely free of mayhem, save for the occasional concussion when an errant tee shot flies into the gallery or the random bolt of lightning snuffs out the life of a fan at the U.S. Open.

That's OK, Tom. A fan died at Indy a few years ago when a wheel flew into the grandstands.

Stuff happens.

But the suggestion that auto racing has no redeeming value because someone could get killed is laughable.

There are plenty of things to love about it.

I love watching a superior driver such as Dale Earnhardt ride through the grass at Charlotte or pass three cars in the final mile to win a race.

I love the noise, the smoke, the raw power and the sheer speed; the feeling of being in complete command of a car at the very limit of control. I am mesmerized by the frantic choreography of a 16-second pit stop. I've seen no greater sporting spectacle than 100,000 fans screaming themselves hoarse as two cars speed toward the checkered flag side by side.

I see merit in a sport that challenges man and machine; a sport that melds engineering, athleticism, brainpower and guts in one competition. There's a certain beauty in seeing one mechanic make his engine run a fraction better than the next fellow.

And, yes, when you get right down to it, there's a certain thrill from the danger of it all. A race fan knows that from time to time, with drivers competing so quickly and so closely, that someone will make a mistake and end up demolishing a car.

But I plead innocent to the charge of wanting to see someone injured or killed.

Every race fan I know fervently wishes that every driver walk away unhurt from every accident, just as every football fan wants to see both players get up after a cornerback levels a wide receiver with a vicious hit.

Jimmy Clark, the great Formula One driver, was one of my boyhood heroes. When he was killed in a racing accident in 1968, I felt a terrible, empty feeling. But I also wanted to know what happened.

I suppose Boswell and Molinaro would say that shows how uncivilized I am. I rather think it's because I'm human.