I’ve spent some of this stay-home time remembering some of the most memorable races I’ve attended and I’d like to share my recollection of one such evening.
I‘ve spent some of this stay-home time remembering some of the most memorable races I‘ve attended and, rather than add to the non-stop coronavirus news cycle, I‘d rather share my recollection of one such evening.
It was Aug. 15, 1998, perfect weather for a night of racing at Knoxville Raceway, and there was just one race left in the 38th annual Amoco Knoxville Nationals — the big one.
The air was electric as time drew closer for the main event to begin. Earlier in the evening, the low buzz of expectation and excitement had gradually and steadily begun to escalate as the program progressed.
First it was the E-Main. Then the D came, and then then C, and finally Mark Kinser took the win in the B-main.
For those not able to make it to the Marion County Fairgrounds, Ralph Sheheen and Brad Doty called the race from the booth, with the late Steve Evans providing additional color, and Bobby Gerould and Dave Rieff in the pits for a live broadcast on TNN.
But I was among those fortunate enough to be there, standing in the infield, in the midst of the pits of those racers locked into the front of the A-Main.
Jack Elden‘s Pennzoil-sponsored No. 22 driven by polesitter Jac Haudenschild sat at the ready. Sammy Swindell‘s Channellock No. 1, slated to start alongside Haud on the front row, was pitted alongside.
The next pit belonged to Dennis Roth‘s No. 83 driven by Danny Lasoski. And then the legendary green, Quaker State-sponsored No. 11 of Steve Kinser sat there as well.
The crowd was ready. The drivers had been pacing nervously for hours, and they were ready. Steve Kinser, fire in his eyes, seemingly burning down cigarettes in three-to-four inhales, was definitely ready.
Each car sat in its respective pit, the tail end hoisted on a jack, with no rear wheels yet mounted. It was a different time in sprint car racing.
Three tire companies with multiple compounds were utilized by teams. Pit strategy included choosing a compound for the feature, and no team would show their cards to the other teams in the starting field until the very last second, when it was too late for those teams to adjust their own strategies accordingly.
Do you choose soft rubber and hope for a track that isn‘t tough on tires? Get out front early and hope for minimal cautions? Or, do you go with a medium, or even hard, compound in case the track is abrasive, in order to be there at the end?
It was all a familiar dance. And it was always fascinating to experience.
“The pace car is on the track,” boomed through the infield public address.
You only received a handful of pace laps to present your car into the push-off lane and push off. If you didn‘t make the call on time, you would start at the rear. But there was no movement from the teams.
Then, “One lap on the pace car.” Still no movement from the teams.
“Two laps on the pace car.” Still nothing. Just crew members pacing, obvious nerves, drivers strapping in as the cars still sat on the jacks sans rear wheels.
“Three laps on the pace car.” Now cars starting further back in the field were beginning to mount their tires and being pushed back out of their pits in order to be pushed off.
But not the starters in the front.
“Four laps on the pace car. Five laps on the pace car.”
At this point, the pits of the big guns were a flurry of activity, with tires being mounted, wheel covers rapidly being dzused on, jacks being lowered, and pit members furiously scrambling to get their cars in place at the last minute to be pushed off.
Danny Lasoski represented the hopes and dreams of the Knoxville locals. A Knoxville native had never won the event.
The Dude wasn‘t even remotely a local — his hometown of Dover, Mo., is located nearly three and a half hours south of Knoxville — but he had become the track’s adopted son.
In 1998, Lasoski was a seven-time Knoxville Raceway champion and the winningest driver in the track‘s history, but a Nationals win had eluded him. The majority of local fans were pulling for the man with the trademark wink and smile.
Steve Kinser had earned 11 Nationals victories prior to 1998, including a string of domination from ‘91 through ‘95. Slammin‘ Sammy had won the 1983 running and every year since had been hungry to do it again. Jac Haudenschild, hungry for his first win, had won all five World of Outlaws events contested at Knoxville that season.
As the cars pushed off and circled the track, the massive grandstands — both frontstretch and backstretch — were abuzz. Then came the four-abreast lap, with four future Hall of Famers — the Wild Child, the Dude, the King and Slammin‘ Sammy — leading the way as the throngs of fans rose to their feet and roared in salute.
Back to two-abreast, and it was finally race time.
The initial start was anti-climactic as 17th-place starter Fred Rahmer got into the turn one wall in Al Hamilton‘s No. 77, bringing out the red, and negating a jump into the lead by Lasoski.
Rahmer was uninjured, and once again the field was pushed off, fell into formation, and slowly worked its way down Knoxville‘s long backstretch and through turn three before firing off for a second attempt at 30 laps of racing.
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