| Page 4 of 5 < > |
'That's the Toughest Man Alive Right There'
|
TOOLBOX
   Resize
COMMENT
 Discussion Policy
 CLOSE
Comments that include profanity or personal attacks or other inappropriate comments or material will be removed from the site. Additionally, entries that are unsigned or contain "signatures" by someone other than the actual author will be removed. Finally, we will take steps to block users who violate any of our posting standards, terms of use or privacy policies or any other policies governing this site. Please review the full rules governing commentaries and discussions. You are fully responsible for the content that you post.
Who's Blogging  |
With six laps to go, Labonte and Ricky Craven fanned out to the high side. Gordon dived low, and Elliott didn't know which line to block. He tried nudging Gordon low, nearly pushing him onto the racetrack's apron -- the flat shoulder of a track that's not meant for racing. It didn't work. Gordon sped by, pulling Labonte and Craven with him for a 1-2-3 Hendrick sweep.
But in the eyes of many, Earnhardt stole the show, refusing to quit in his mangled No. 3.
"That's the toughest man alive right there," Earnhardt's car owner, Richard Childress, told Jeff Owens of Winston Cup Scene afterward. "He deserves to win this race more than anybody ever has."
Daytona Beach, Fla. -- February 1998
A roar went up from the grandstands when the green flag signaled the start of the 40th Daytona 500. It erupted again on Lap 17, when Earnhardt took the lead. All afternoon, the No. 3 Chevy was the best car on the track, running near the front, never falling from contention. Its edgy driver set the pace for more than half the 200-lap distance, but he spent as much time eyeing the challengers in his rearview mirror as he did looking out the windshield.
Earnhardt again held the lead on Lap 199 -- just one lap to go -- when John Andretti and Lake Speed spun on the backstretch, bringing out the final caution. All Earnhardt had to do was fend off the furious charge from Labonte as they raced toward the flag stand, and the Daytona 500 would finally be his.
Earnhardt did it. And tears started welling in his eyes as he drove that final lap. It was a lap that seemed to take forever. It was a lap that had taken 20 years.
"My eyes watered up in the racecar," Earnhardt later confessed. "I don't think I really cried. My eyes just watered up on that lap to take the checkered."
The fans cheered like mad as he rounded the track and steered onto pit road, where dozens of mechanics from every team and several fellow racers had swarmed to slap his hand, extend a thumbs-up or simply touch his black car as it inched toward Victory Lane. Earnhardt stuck his left arm out the window and got a lifetime's worth of high-fives.
Then he veered onto the infield grass and spun the car in celebratory circles, cutting deep ruts in the turf. Once he drove off toward Victory Lane, his masterpiece was unveiled: Stock-car racing's master had carved the number "3" in the grass with his tires.
"The Daytona 500 is ours!" Earnhardt shouted. "We've won it! We've won it! We've won it!"
After the champagne and fireworks and photographs, Earnhardt swaggered into the press box atop the front grandstand, grinning like some deranged animal, with a pooch in his midsection. He hopped up on a swivel chair facing reporters, his back to the huge picture window overlooking the front stretch.
"It sure feels good to get that monkey off my back!" he said. And at that moment, he pulled a stuffed toy monkey from his racing suit and flung it across the room.
