My Ongoing Tribute to the Greatest NASCAR Driver Ever

Dale Earnhardt

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Remembering The Intimidator

By Marty Smith, Turner Sports Interactive
February 18, 2001
11:49 PM EST (0449 GMT)

Commentary

DAYTONA BEACH, Fla -- Dale Earnhardt scared the fire out me every time I saw him. Except once.

I was invited to a dinner party with many NASCAR coworkers geared to recognize the hard work of the people behind the scenes at NASCAR Marketing. Earnhardt opened his arms and invited us all to his life's work, his mecca, and his throne - Dale Earnhardt, Inc.

As the crowd filtered onto the showroom floor at the Garage Mahal, Earnhardt mingled amongst the crowd, shaking hands, smiling, laughing with all in attendance. Then he got to me.

"Hey boy," he said while handing me the vaunted Earnhardt scowl.

I almost dropped my drink.

As hard as I tried to shake it off, I couldn't. Why would he do that? Why pick me out of the 50-some people there to prove that he's still The Intimidator? I hardly knew him. There were nine other top-flight drivers there, and they had all been quite cordial. So what did I do to trip his trigger?

Rattled, I ventured up to the luxurious dining facility on the DEI campus for the five-star dinner provided by Earnhardt's personal chef. During dinner, I received an in-depth lesson on the intricacies of the draft from Rusty Wallace, at which time I decided to get his opinion on the age-old myth that Earnhardt could actually "see" air.

"Oh yeah, he can," Wallace said. "He does things with a racecar that nobody else can do. Weren't you at Talladega? Can you believe that?"

Wallace was referring to October 15, 2000 -- the day Earnhardt defied all logic by storming from 16th postion with six laps remaining to win the Winston 500. For 20 minutes, Wallace raved about Earnhardt's seemingly impossible feat. All I could think about was how much Wallace respected Earnhardt, and how Earnhardt commanded respect in every aspect of his multifaceted life.

He won seven championships. He owns a race team that won three points races in 2000. Heck, he even had a successful chicken farming business. The man was the very definition of precision.

Just about then, my thought was interrupted by NASCAR Vice President George Pyne, who had gotten up to thank the 10 drivers in attendance. Earnhardt ribbed him. Pyne then began inviting NASCAR's marketing staff up one-by-one, saying kind words of appreciation to each.

I still hadn't totally recovered from the cross facial expression I'd received earlier when my name was called. I walked up to the front, smiled, yelled "Earnhardt!" in prime Talladega fashion, and took my seat again.

Feeling vindicated, I peered across the room at The Intimidator to see if he was amused by my wittiness.

Nope. Same expression as before.

After three more tables of folk were introduced, the ceremony was over, and all I wanted to do was say goodnight to my friends and evacuate the premises as soon as possible. Darting for the door, I heard a voice from the corner.

"Come'ere boy."

During the seemingly endless walk over, I decided I'd better act confident. Should I act tough? Should I stick my hand out and shake his? Should to thank him? I went for the latter.

"Thanks Mr. Earnhardt. Dale. Big E. I don't know exactly what to call you, Sir."

"All of 'em are fine, boy, 'cept that Sir part," he said, firmly shaking my hand. "I'm too young for you to be callin' me Sir."

He was much too young to die, too.

Earnhardt was killed Sunday in a last-lap crash in the Daytona 500, sending resounding tremors throughout the motorsports industry and the entire sports world.

It's like Muhammad Ali dying in the ring.

"NASCAR lost its greatest driver and probably the greatest driver it will ever have," said Johnny Benson Sunday night. "My heart goes out to his family, his crew, his friends and his fans. There is no better group of fans in our sport and I feel for them tonight also. Our sport will go on, but I don't think it will ever be the same."

Although I barely knew Earnhardt, my life may never be the same because of him. That brief moment when Big E, The Intimidator, the finest automobile driver that I'd ever seen took a moment to shake my hand and learn my name proved to me that he was real. Despite unmatched fame, fortune and fan following, this man was completely grounded.

That says a lot to me.

Rest in peace, Big E. You're much too young to be called Sir.