BASEBALL?
What about Baseball?
You may be wondering what does baseball have to do with auto racing. We all remember the roar from the high horse-powered hardtops, the open exhaust singing the most beautiful music us hardtoppers will never forget. We sat for hours in the grandstands watching, listening, smelling and nearly tasting the overwhelming experience of the mud slinging hardtops with their drivers fighting the ever changing groove in the mud having the unscratchable itch to win another one. So what about baseball?
If I could, I would have been the first through the gate not wanting to miss a thing. After all, watching the unloading of the car off the trailer or dolly or even unhooking the tow-bar, very common back then, was just as exciting as watching the races. I guess it was the anticipation that started up with the dismiss from the hitch. Baseball, who cares?
Then there was the exiting from the pits onto the track and the building anticipation that starts the heart racing about as fast as the rpms of the Chevys, Dodges and Fords. "Oh boy, here they come, better stand up, don't want to miss a thing, cheer on the cars, wave on my favorite driver." "Gee, hope he saw me!" But what about baseball?
Then the races start and only those with healthy hearts survive the evening as our hearts never stopped pounding louder and louder as if trying to out shout that hedder music. Even intermission was great. No racing, but ya knew it was just minutes away. I usually had to use the local facilities, but never did. Didn't want to miss a thing. Starting to miss the baseball yet? Oh the main events. A whole bunch of laps, racing at its finest. The best of the best. Kabam, its over. Main events or any other race for that matter never lasted very long on the "fastest quarter mile in the West".
Oh no, the worst part of any race, the checkered flag. There is no racer that does not seek to be first to the checkered flag. Except me. I hated the checkered flag. Fun over, no more slip-sliding, fender rubbing, tires smoking, oil burning, clutch slipping, mud slinging, mind boggling, car dancing until next time, which is never soon enough. Ah, time for baseball!? Not yet.
Time for pizza. I always couldn't wait for the trip to the pizza joint after the races, even still, they had to lasso me and drag me out of the grandstands, last to leave of course. The pizza guys treated us like kings, especially if one of our group won the Main event. That meant a pizza the exact size of the table was in order and on the house too. We would gobble it up faster than 'quick time" Geving could circle the speedway. Course with four or five drivers, pit crews, their wives and the 107 kids, didn't take long. Great pizza. Almost tasted as good as the races.
Yep, nothing beats a Saturday night watching, hearing and smelling those ole hardtops. Not even a Sunday afternoon at the ballpark watching baseball.
Oh yes, BASEBALL... Stay tuned........
You may be wondering what does baseball have to do with auto racing. We all remember the roar from the high horse-powered hardtops, the open exhaust singing the most beautiful music us hardtoppers will never forget. We sat for hours in the grandstands watching, listening, smelling and nearly tasting the overwhelming experience of the mud slinging hardtops with their drivers fighting the ever changing groove in the mud having the unscratchable itch to win another one. So what about baseball?
If I could, I would have been the first through the gate not wanting to miss a thing. After all, watching the unloading of the car off the trailer or dolly or even unhooking the tow-bar, very common back then, was just as exciting as watching the races. I guess it was the anticipation that started up with the dismiss from the hitch. Baseball, who cares?
Then there was the exiting from the pits onto the track and the building anticipation that starts the heart racing about as fast as the rpms of the Chevys, Dodges and Fords. "Oh boy, here they come, better stand up, don't want to miss a thing, cheer on the cars, wave on my favorite driver." "Gee, hope he saw me!" But what about baseball?
Then the races start and only those with healthy hearts survive the evening as our hearts never stopped pounding louder and louder as if trying to out shout that hedder music. Even intermission was great. No racing, but ya knew it was just minutes away. I usually had to use the local facilities, but never did. Didn't want to miss a thing. Starting to miss the baseball yet? Oh the main events. A whole bunch of laps, racing at its finest. The best of the best. Kabam, its over. Main events or any other race for that matter never lasted very long on the "fastest quarter mile in the West".
Oh no, the worst part of any race, the checkered flag. There is no racer that does not seek to be first to the checkered flag. Except me. I hated the checkered flag. Fun over, no more slip-sliding, fender rubbing, tires smoking, oil burning, clutch slipping, mud slinging, mind boggling, car dancing until next time, which is never soon enough. Ah, time for baseball!? Not yet.
Time for pizza. I always couldn't wait for the trip to the pizza joint after the races, even still, they had to lasso me and drag me out of the grandstands, last to leave of course. The pizza guys treated us like kings, especially if one of our group won the Main event. That meant a pizza the exact size of the table was in order and on the house too. We would gobble it up faster than 'quick time" Geving could circle the speedway. Course with four or five drivers, pit crews, their wives and the 107 kids, didn't take long. Great pizza. Almost tasted as good as the races.
Yep, nothing beats a Saturday night watching, hearing and smelling those ole hardtops. Not even a Sunday afternoon at the ballpark watching baseball.
Oh yes, BASEBALL... Stay tuned........
