This week’s “Daily Journal” guest columnist is Dr. Troy Kickler, Director of the North Carolina History Project. Learn more about the project at northcarolinahistory.org.
Talladega is this Sunday, and once again I’m doubting the advantages of restrictor plate racing and regulation.
Although I enjoy watching NASCAR races, I increasingly question many of the governing body’s decisions. My somewhat disgruntled state began when NASCAR eliminated the North Wilkesboro race and started moving the circuit away from the sport’s home, the South.
I really started questioning when a new venue with asphalt problems, the New Hampshire International Speedway, quickly took the lives of two drivers: Adam Petty and Kenny Irwin. The new, “cookie-cutter” speedways in the Midwest that gave drivers only one groove to drive safely and seemed to require minimal changes in car setups failed to restore my confidence.
What has troubled me lately, however, is NASCAR’s leveling the driving field in hopes of producing competitive and “safe” racing at the International Speedway Corporation’s Daytona and Talladega tracks.
I admit watching drivers race at approximately 185mph, and for hours racing so close that they can practically reach out and touch their competitors’ cars, is exciting fare. The bumper-to-bumper, and sometimes door-to-door, action at Daytona and Talladega definitely keeps me tuned in. And I’ll confess something else. “The Big One” at Talladega and Daytona is a nerve-wracking yet overall thrilling crash to watch.
(For the uninitiated, a restrictor plate is an aluminum plate with 4 holes that is placed between the carburetor and the intake manifold to reduce the amount of flowing air and fuel. The result: less horsepower and slower cars. Restrictor plate racing, then, tightens the field and frequently produces a multiple-car wreck described as “The Big One.”)
After Bobby Allison lost control of his car in 1987 and endangered fans by crashing on the front stretch at Talladega, restrictor plate use was implemented in 1988. The year before Bill Elliot (who has difficulty being competitive nowadays) set the track record at 210.364 mph. At that track recently, cars without restrictor plates have been tested at speeds nearing 230mph.
But what have been the unintended consequences of restrictor plate regulation, implemented for safety and maintained to increase competitiveness?
Increased danger and the elimination of the pursuit of excellence.
To start with, 43 cars are always extremely close, and “The Big One,” with cars launched into mid-air and rolling along the paved track and crashing into the outside and restraining walls, is only a small, mental mistake away. How does this predictable melee eliminate danger to fans? And do we really want to put many of NASCAR’s impatient and young bucks – whose driving abilities are at sophomoric levels (although they think otherwise) – within arm’s reach of cars in their front, back, and either side?
Restrictor plates have eliminated drivers’ deaths, some may say. No data exists for that, but restrictor plate use at Daytona in 2001 created a tight finish that contributed to the death of Dale Earnhardt Sr. Not liked by many, Tony Stewart’s comments this year resonated with me: eventually restrictor plate racing will hurt or kill someone again.
The leveling of the field also particularly troubles me. In restrictor plate racing, anyone with a good aero-package who is in a fortunate track position can steal a race or a good finish.
Just sit back for a moment, and imagine a race without restrictor plates. What do you see?
I see breathtaking speeds. Sling-shot drafting. Skillful use of the accelerator in the corners—no more video-game-like flat-footedness. Basically, a race depending more on drivers’ skill.
In this race, those who draft correctly and steer adroitly would pull away from the field, and a pack of five to eight cars would battle constantly for the lead while other packs battle for the best position possible. When the race ended, fans would know that the winner had one of the better cars in the field and possessed the skill to pull his or her car to the front of the pack and keep it there.
In short, a race without restrictor plates would be a less regulated and possibly safer event in which drivers and race teams would be encouraged to pursue excellence and competition would separate the good from the bad.