A Heart-to-Heart
with the NHRA

8/9/04

Jeff Burk Photo

ou know, I love you NHRA. You’re one of my closest friends. And that’s why I feel like I can say this to you. You know when you have a friend who’s getting into trouble? The one who’s going around town with the wrong crowd, going down a path that is destined to lead to no-good - hangin’ out with frat boys, buying designer clothes on maxed-out credit cards, drinking cognac and lurking around country clubs trying to get a membership? Well, if my friend was doing that, I’d have a talk with her.

So, NHRA, that’s why it’s time you and I had a heart-to-heart about some of the things you’re doing. You’ve really changed. And not for the better. It really hurts to see what you’ve become, because I know what you once were. Up until the 1980s, you were wild. You were dangerous. You were sexy. You were very, very naughty. And then … I don’t know what happened.

Was it a mid-life crisis? Did you look into the mirror when you were 35 or so and say, “Oh no! I was having so much fun, I forgot that I was supposed to get a ‘career‘!” and go out and buy a whole bunch of business suits? Once upon a time, you were loose and unpredictable and vibrant and fun. But then you started going to bed at 8 p.m. and saying, “I can’t go out and see rock bands,” “I don’t swear,” and “If I did that, what would people say?” You’ve become the motorsports equivalent of an uptight schoolmarm.

NHRA, I know you think that you’re high-falutin’ fancy-pants racing, but I’ve got news for you: You are not Formula One. Drag racing is low-brow. But don’t get me wrong, this is not a bad thing. I mean, there is a reason you don’t see primetime Lacrosse and Polo, you know. John Q. Public does not like high-brow. The sooner you embrace this, the sooner you’ll be rakin’ in the dough like your know-nothing, redneck, slightly slow neighbor NASCAR.
You’re 53 now. You need to take some chances again. Don’t look back on your life and say that you shoulda, woulda, coulda. You need to quit trying to be something you’re not and love and accept who you are. People are in love with the real you, not the façade that you’ve put on trying to impress everyone. Sure, they hang around now but I think they’re hoping that they’ll catch a glimpse of the person that you used to be.

NHRA, let me remind you what was good about you and tell you how to get back there.

The first thing you need to do is let go of the sponsorships. Right now you’re so covered in corporate bling, you look like one of Donald Trump’s girlfriends and all that corporate logo-ing everywhere just makes you look needy. You need to get that “You can stay or go, I don’t care” attitude and then the sponsors will come begging you to please let them get involved in some way … any way. So what do you do? Make sure that no corporate logos are allowed on cars, tear down those ad banners on the towers and fine any driver who mentions a sponsor in a top-end interview. You know, when they tried to put the Spiderman ads on the bases at the baseball game, people freaked out. The public can smell desperation a mile away. Get proud and get strong and kick your corporate logo habit.

Next, bring back cars that people can grow fond of, teams that fans will give a damn about. Right now, when I watch the big show, I really feel like one dragster beating another is about as exciting as watching two identical remote control cars racing down a track - one winning is just as good as the other. But you can change that. Require all cars to have names and all teams to have an identity. One bland corporate car after another is not exciting. You know, I really don’t care if Bud beats Miller. It still won’t make me drink crappy beer. However, bring me a Snake and a Mongoose, well that’s a different story.

So loosen up your uptight morals a little bit and don’t clamp down so hard on everyone that you squeeze them into Stepford racers. Send the drivers and team owners, hell send the whole crew to acting class … Toastmasters … something! You need to play up the personalities. What these people are doing is something huge, amazing, larger-than-life. Why are their personalities (except John Force’s, of course) so small? Teach them to be over-the-top. Let them swear; you can always bleep it out later. Encourage them to show real intense emotions about what they’re doing - cry, scream, laugh, shout, throw helmets in anger.

The first rule in speech class 101 is if you sound bored about what you’re talking about, your audience is going to think your subject is boring. You know what? Once upon a time you told these drivers “Don’t do anything that will upset anyone ever” and they have become as bland as pablum. I know you meant well, but lighten up on them. Let them talk trash about each other. Let them have real rivalries and made-up rivalries. I want to care if my guy wins, actually, it would be nice to even have a guy. All the drivers I give a damn about were drivers who were over-the-top and they’ve all retired or died. Give me someone to identify with and then I‘ll start caring if they win or lose.

Right now, you only give out TV time to the biggest sponsors. And you know what? That makes you look like a, well, the nice way to say it is “a gold digger.” When did the bottom line override your passion for the sport? How about rewarding the best looking cars and the wildest personalities with more air time? How about getting some really good-looking back up boys and girls? How about spending TV time on the interpersonal drama between the teams?

Bring back all the things that made you “you” - the blatant hucksterism of the screaming announcers, the fox hunts, the gimmicks, the bands playing on flatbeds on the return roads, fuel Harleys. We don’t want the track to be dangerous, but that doesn’t mean that you can’t be dangerous and daring in your presentation. Bring back all that gorgeous excess, that Las Vegas showmanship, all the things that made you the most American of all sports.

We want the real you back, NHRA. We miss you.