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It's Not Your Sport Anymore - It's Theirs

The new NASCAR emphasizes money not racing. It didn't happen overnight. Even hardcore NASCAR fans, the kind who write letters to Winston Cup Scene, had heard hints and seen signs. NASCAR racing, that motorized morality play referred to as "our sport" by two generations of Southern diehards, wasn't their sport anymore.

It's not just a question of geography, of trading North Wilkesboro for Texas, Las Vegas, Los Angeles, and so on. It's more that NASCAR, in effect, bulldozed the old neighborhood and put up a mall in its place. So, friends, how do YOU like the new NASCAR? NASCAR still pays some attention to racing, its core product, although with perpetually full grandstands and bounding TV ratings you'd think the corporation wouldn't worry too much about this department. If you believe an ounce of what comes off the fax machine from Daytona Beach these days, you'd think instead that the company had transformed from racing club to entertainment and marketing cartel, with an endless flow of cafes, souvenir stores, officially licensed automotive aftermarket programs, and forced marches to Japan.

You'd be pretty close to right. Brian France, son of NASCAR President Bill France and heir apparent (with sister Leesa Kennedy) to the family empire, spoke frankly and honestly at the start of the 1996 season. "We're an entertainment company," he said. This isn't unique to NASCAR, this blurring of the lines between sport and entertainment. Wrestling and roller derby never had to ask or answer which was which. The NFL commenced with licensing in the 1970s, and the NBA carried entertainment and marketing to new heights in the 1980s. Toss in a heavy dose of Disney (apparently the template for all would-be entertainment companies) and you're getting to where NASCAR sees itself today. So long, suckers. Forward the checks to our new address on Madison Avenue.

The popularity of racing has gotten to the point where people are asking for more of it. Then, you have owners and promoters building new tracks that are Winston Cup- quality tracks, so naturally they want a race. I race both in Winston Cup and as much Busch as I can, and I am playing a double role. I don't get a break anyway, so adding races is manageable for me. Once you make the decision to do it, you just go do it. I love this, so it's not a problem for me. It's the teams that will have the problem with this. They have to do so much, and they look forward to having that weekend off; so if weekend time is reduced, it will he really tough.

You can't really blame NASCAR. No doubt it's the hottest, fastest growing sport entertainment plexus on the planet right now. Figures prove it. Remember the gambler's golden rule: plunge when you win, fold when you lose. NASCAR is plunging big-time. Also, NASCAR, like any smart marketer, doesn't give away what it can sell. Why let associated companies use your drivers name for free when you can get them to pay for the privilege of being Officially Licensed? The Officially Licensed (always capitalized in NASCAR releases) program began in 1995, when NASCAR granted long-time ally Unocal the rights to produce the NASCAR-branded motor oil. Accept no substitutes. This was seen at the time as a kick in the pants for team sponsors such as Texaco, Valvoline, Pennzoil, Shell, and Exxon, all of whom grumbled privately about NASCAR's arrogance. But what are they going to do, leave?

Other companies raced to grab the NASCAR logo. Exide followed with the NASCAR battery, Borg-Warner with spark wires and clutches, Moog with chassis parts, Quaker State with fuel additives, Fel-Pro with gaskets, Raybestos with brakes, Wix with filters, and driversyear with belts and hoses, all carrying NASCAR's red-yellow-blue streak. Here is NASCAR-speak, circa 1998: "Our program is designed to bring the power of NASCAR from the race tracks to the automotive aftermarket, fueled by a $40 million integrated media campaign that generates over one billion impressions a year." This is attributed to George Pyne, NASCAR vice president for licensing, in a press release. Pyne is just doing his job.

Most puzzling is the Coca-Cola case. For years, NASCAR's International Speedway Corporation has been allied with arch-rival Pepsi; the only sodas you could get at ISC tracks were Pepsi products. A month ago, NASCAR revealed that Coke now would be its official soft drink. Details are not clear; NASCAR and ISC play a sort of shell game as to what goes with which. Word on the street is that Pepsi moved too slowly in meeting NASCAR's terms for "official" status, and that Coke jumped on the bait. Many believe NASCAR is keeping Coke on a hook in case series sponsor R.J. Reynolds falls to Clinton and Congress.

Since consumer products joined the party in the 1980s, NASCAR has had a pretty sweet racket. The sponsors who support the teams in many cases use racing in their TV and point-of-sale marketing. In other words, the sponsors pay for the privilege of promoting NASCAR. NASCAR grabbed that line and ran with it after wondrous Jeff Gordon won the celebrated Brickyard 400 in 1994, then (in a suspiciously well-rehearsed victory speech) announced he was going to Disney World. Since then, "our sport" has evolved into a dense web of licensing, marketing, advertising, and entertainment. And if you look way down inside it, you might even see a race.

What REALLY sells NASCAR are its fans, whose brand loyalty is legendary. That may go back to the days when no one cared about stock-car racing and any company that helped out received fervent and grateful patronage. Hardcore NASCAR fans haven't changed, and nowhere is this better known than on Madison Avenue. But NASCAR HAS changed, for the slicker. It always got a chunk of your change. Today, with its aftermarket programs, cafes, and retail outlets, it is finding ways to take more of your money more efficiently. It's not your sport anymore. It's theirs.

At A Season Near You Darlington Raceway will no longer host the annual Southern 500 on Labor Day weekend. North Carolina Speedway won't be the site of two Winston Cup races. Unocal gasoline won't power the cars on the track. Goody's Dash is no more. R.J. Reynolds' days as the sponsor of NASCAR's top series are over. NASCAR has reached the point where its sole priority is pleasing Madison Avenue. It's not your sport anymore. It's theirs. If you want to bitch: (and please do) Email: fanfeedback@nascar.com Snail Mail: NASCAR | P.O. Box 2875 | Daytona Beach, FL 32120 Here is a sample by Steve I took your advice and sent the following message to NASCAR: At the tracks, Family section is ok.....keep it SMALL or make them spend the gazillion dollars for the "suites". I go to the tracks with guys. We spend money..lots of it. If we don't have the RV, we're in turn 2 or 4. Dover has the family section in turn 4. That's exactly where we want to sit & drink our beer & smoke our cigarettes. Let's face it...NASCAR is real close to being too "popular" for REAL fans to enjoy and afford. It's becoming wayyyy too uptight. I no longer go to local football or hockey events, because there are so few real fans of the sport or team anymore. The last time I went, I spent huge bucks to sit on the glass at a hockey game. The beer was cut off at the end of the 2nd period, you couldn't smoke unless you went outside, the five seats to the left of me were vacant (but paid for I'm sure) and the people to my right had no freaking idea what was going on. This year, I had fun at Daytona and Pocono, but Charlotte isn't what it used to be (oh I'm sorry Lowe's) and neither is Dover (soon to be DuPont raceway I'm sure). You folks better do some soul searching, and quit looking at the $$. Do away with restrictor plates. It shouldn't cost 10 million dollars to race a season. There's no need to make it another freaking Super-Bowl every week. I used to go to 6 races a year. This year it's 5. I'll bet there comes a day when you guys crapped it up so much, I'll just be at the local dirt track watching Jimmy Horton again. Local legend you folks priced out of the big time. What's the five year plan, or are you folks winging it? I have an idea. Why don't you get a corporate sponsor for every single item that exists even close to the track, make people pay license fees for their seats in addition to the ticket cost, build out multi-million dollar suites where all the action is. Price everything so damn high that the real fans have to stay home to watch TV....... The ratings will show great because you'll have a bunch of stiffs at the track and all the fans will be sitting at home with 4 TVs on. Then you can ask TNT and ESPN for more money because the ratings are so high and they in turn can get more money for the commercials and .......then WHAT?? The sponsors will have to decide between sponsoring a race car for loyal fans (which aren't at the track because you've chased them away) or paying for a 30 second spot under green (which is equally as frustrating...like you couldn't get all the commercials out of the way under yellow at Bristol?) This exciting sport is going the way of the buffalo, down the ENRON trail.

The boy wore a blue shirt that identified him by name ("Marcus" in script) and the garage for whom he apparently worked. We both had stopped in Walkertown, N.C., to gas up. He couldn't have been much over 20, and wore a two-day beard and a look that was generally lean and hungry. He drove a Plymouth Duster, early 1970s vintage, of which he apparently took great pride. Its paint was a metal-flake variation on "Petty blue," and I bet Marcus grew up hearing his old man regale him with stories of King Richard. I can't say for sure, but I bet that Duster will scat. Marcus deserves credit for keeping her up.

Marcus and I never exchanged a word. We nodded at each other, but I'd be willing to bet that he was a stock car racing fan. In a sense he was the best kind of stock car racing fan, and he was also the kind of fan that NASCAR seems not to care about anymore. Guys like Marcus don't give a darn about football, baseball, basketball or hockey. Given the choice, Marcus would probably prefer a dirt track to an asphalt oval. He probably doesn't fret a whole lot about the dangers inherent in smoking Winstons because he spends a good deal of time lying on his back on the floor of a garage inhaling gasoline and exhaust fumes. He drinks. He smokes. He goes to the races ... sometimes in that order. He probably waves a rebel flag. He is everything NASCAR wants to hide about its fans, which is one of the things wrong with NASCAR. Marcus is where stock car racing came from: in the bleachers, in the garage and in the drivers' seats. Many of the drivers now wear freshly pressed buttoned-down shirts with their sponsors' named emblazoned tastefully over the heart, but they were not always so suave and sophisticated.

More often than not, they were once like Marcus. They loved to work on cars. They loved to race. They didn't back off when someone wanted to fight. A lot of times, they lived a life in which they raced all evening, drank all night and slept till noon. Most of them survived these rites of passage. Marcus will, too, if he's lucky and if time cures his hardheadedness. He won't ever get over his adventurousness, though, and he won't ever love a sport that has been sanitized for his protection. NASCAR has reached the point where its sole priority is pleasing Madison Avenue. It had better worry about Marcus.

It is becoming increasingly clear that there is a significant divide — and one that appears to be growing — between what we might call the Old Fan and the New Fan in NASCAR racing.

The Old Fan has been a part of major league stock car racing since at least the 1970s and remembers fierce Richard Petty-David Pearson and Cale Yarborough-Bobby Allison battles. He can bring groans from friends at bars with stories of aggravating snippets of race coverage on ABC's Wide World of Sports and of having to call his local newspaper's sports editor repeatedly simply to convince him to run the small-print qualifying results every week.

The New Fan is mostly a product of NASCAR's Television Age. There is a decent chance he or she has never seen a race in the flesh, having been drawn to the sport first by the blanket coverage of ESPN and now by the rock-music-tinged, Gatling-gun sounds and visuals of Fox and NBC.

The Old Fan has fond memories of loading a half dozen buddies into the Chevy pickup, barreling down Carolina backroads to Darlington, driving through the tunnel the night before the Southern 500 and partying the predawn hours away before watching his heroes battle in the hot sun of September.

The New Fan knows little of this experience. His favorite seat might be the couch in the den, only 14 steps (he's counted) from the refrigerator. The Old Fan and the New Fan can be as different as night and day, as Jeff Gordon and Robby Gordon, as Sonoma and Bristol. NASCAR wants to keep one and gain more of the other, and it's a difficult balance.

A quick overview of NASCAR's administrative moves over the past few years would lead to the easy conclusion that the powers that be in Daytona Beach are desperately courting the New Fan while largely ignoring the Old. For a sports organization that talks a lot about tradition, precious little of it has survived the recent rush toward bigger markets, brighter lights and more cash.

An interesting side angle to NASCAR's cultural struggle between New and Old is how the two "sides" view each other: And it isn't always pretty. The Old Fan looks at all the newbies pouring into the sport and sees: Far too many Jeff Gordon jackets. People watching the race from the controlled atmosphere of skybox suites, all of them - he's sure - sipping Dom Perignon, snacking on fancy cheese and wondering when the fireworks show is supposed to start. Women enamored by the looks of Kasey Kahne and Jimmie Johnson. "Who cares?" he's thinking. "This is about racin'." Men wearing smartly pressed, button-down-collar shirts who wouldn't know a Ford from a Schwinn. Extremely casual fans who don't have a clue about camber, wedge or Dale Earnhardt's history at Darlington. The New Fan looks at the more experienced in the crowd and sees: People who appear to chew tobacco professionally. Guys who have T-shirts he assumes were rescued from an oil-change pit. Tattoos that appear to have tattoos. Drunken yahoos who show up only to watch wrecks.

The truth, obviously, is some mix of these perspectives. There are longtime fans who have embraced NASCAR's much-ballyhooed younger stars, and there are newer fans who have read the sport's history and have great respect for the accomplishments of star drivers who ran their laps decades ago.

As NASCAR moves along in the wake of the all-powerful NFL, ever cognizant of TV ratings and the new TV contract that is just around the corner (for the first 11 races of the 2004 season the Nielsen numbers averaged 5.8 or 1.7 percent less than the ratings for the 11 comparable races in 2003) it will pay to observe these two groups and to attempt to help them interface whenever possible.

In this particular case, when you go to the big party you want to dance with the one what brung you — and also sneak in a few two-steps with the party newcomer over in the corner. This is the best of both worlds, and that's the goal NASCAR should target in these rich yet risky times.

Mike Hembre. NASCAR must balance appeal between new, old fans. NASCAR SCENE. July 29, 2004.

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