Last year, NASCAR introduced a version of qualifying and called it a “knockout” format. Sunday afternoon in Daytona, it appeared that the drivers took the name literally. Clint Bowyer’s No. 15 ended up a crumpled mess when he was cut off by the No. 44 driven by Reed Sorenson in some kind of blocking maneuver meant to achieve…I’m not sure. The wreck was beneficial to nobody, except the people who sell parts for new cars.
After the ill-timed red flag (caused by a Big One an entire week before the actual Daytona 500 is scheduled to run,) that segment was essentially cut short as teams were denied a chance to lay down a new time. Then, the next group of wanna-be polesitters lined up on pit road—or should we call it more of a gaggle? The cars inched, edged, and nudged one another out of the way as they sought temporary teammates in an effort to enter the track with a friend. Fans at home and in the stands started to nod off as nothing else happened.
It’s not new. We sat through numerous similar performances last year as the teams sorted out how they are exactly supposed to approach beating somebody else to the red and black flags without being the first one on the track. Everybody hurries up and waits, and waits, and waits. Suddenly, the end of pit road looks more like a gathering from a “Cars” movie poster rather than an organized approach to setting the field for the most popular form of auto racing in America.
In short, knockout qualifying is a compact means to broadcasting a NASCAR event, but without a meaningful conclusion. The network figures if they fill up the airwaves with enough traffic from the scanners it will help the lack of physical motion. After an eternity of babble, everybody piles onto the track and two minutes later it is all over, leaving some angry drivers, one happy pole sitter and a breathless collection of commentators while the booth tries to sort out what happened. Meanwhile, I went to get something to eat.
And Clint Bowyer? In this instance, he made a beeline to the media corral to let everybody at the track, on-air, and the nice uniformed officials in the Big Truck understand just how stupid this format is — especially at the plate tracks. Do we really need to offer up yet another opportunity for the drivers to make origami out of their vehicles during weeks when we know the repair bills will shoot into the millions? No. No, we don’t.
Yes, it’s great to be able to set up your car for racing instead of a single fast lap. It’s nice to experience how your machine will perform in traffic. It’s even meaningful to have the savviest drivers and crew chiefs put their heads together and come up with a strategy that leaves the second and third-tier teams, well, where we expect them to be; it keeps the waters unmuddied.
But if the France franchise thought this knockout format was the next best thing in NASCAR entertainment, they were mistaken. An entire year of watching teams walk away from qualifying while scratching their heads is a clear indication not many people “get” what was supposed to happen. Are we at a professional racing competition or some odd version of Robot Wars?
It’s a mess. It’s not an incentive to hit the track a day or a week early. It’s barely a reason to have the DVR record the three-ring disaster. And to think we have two mini-races on Thursday so we can attempt to crumple even more metal—it’s mind-boggling.
How about we ask the drivers and teams how they want to get it done? What would make the most sense to the men behind the wheel? I can guarantee it wouldn’t resemble anything close to what the think-tank came up with. That can only be a good thing.
Sonya's Scrapbook
Jeff Gordon started his career at Daytona in style, finishing fifth, fifth, fourth, eighth, 22nd, and first in his first six appearances at the superspeedway. But his seventh event, the 1996 Great American Race may be a better reflection of everything restrictor plate. On lap 8, Jeremy Mayfield in the No. 98 tapped the rainbow-emblazoned No. 24. After slamming the wall, Gordon limped behind it. He managed a few more laps after repairs, but finally accepted a DNF, submitting "handling" as his reason for going home for the day.
How quickly your race can be demolished through none of your own devices. The more things change -- even in NASCAR -- the more they stay the same.
S.D. Grady is a Senior Editor for Frontstretch and runs a NASCAR blog called the S-Curves. She can be reached via email at sonya...@frontstretch.com. Follow her on Twitter at @laregna and on her Facebook page (she's an author, too!) at https://www.facebook.com/Author.SDGrady.
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TODAY AT FRONTSTRETCH
Q: In 2007, James Hylton attempted to become the oldest driver to ever qualify for a Cup race when he attempted the Daytona 500 in a No. 58 Chevrolet with sponsorship from Retirement Living TV. Where did that No. 58 come from?
A: Hylton's car was a 2005-spec Chevrolet Monte Carlo that had previously been a No. 31 Cingular Wireless Chevrolet for Jeff Burton. The car was purchased from Richard Childress Racing. While the chassis was good, the engine was not.