“Don’t cry because its over. Smile because it happened.”
As the laps were winding down last night, there was a sadness that overcame me as I watched Jeff Gordon circle the track for the final time.
It was over. Just like the light of a candle that’s been burning, it was gone. I quickly tried to compose myself but instead, sloppy, big tears started streaming. It felt like a part of my childhood and adult life had just walked off into the sunset.
In essence it had.
I have been a Gordon fan long before I wrote about this sport for Bleacher Report and Fan Vs Fan. I rooted for him while taking the smart comments of fans who called him “too perfect” “goody two-shoes” and other names that I will not repeat. I sat in a sea of Earnhardt, Stewart and Kenseth fans at Chicagoland Speedway back in 2006.I got made fun of for my gear more than the laps on track. It makes me laugh now. It makes me proud to be honest. I have never hid my fandom and I always worked hard to separate it when I wrote about this sport. I have never been more proud to be his fan than yesterday.
So last night while Kyle Busch was taking photos and celebrating an amazing comeback story, I watched my racing hero in his final press conference in the media center at Homestead. I watched him laugh and smile. Answer numerous questions. Boast about his incredible career. Give credit to his team, his owner and his family. He was giving us closure. Reminding us that this was his choice. That he was ready for this next chapter.
I am thankful for that. This sport can be cruel. Most of the time drivers don’t get to go out on their own accord. They stay too long and linger running at the back of the pack. Trying and searching for the glory and success that escaped them years prior.
For some they don’t get any choice. They are injured and no longer can do what they love to do. Forced to walk away before they were truly ready. Never really getting the closure to move forward. Always stuck in gear. For the few fate takes over and their need for speed and the thrill cost them their lives.
For fans it can be even harder because we identify with a driver. We connect and go along for the ride until the checkered flag flies on their career. In 2001 when Dale Earnhardt, Sr. died, I told a friend of mine, ” I don’t care what happens, if he never wins a title again, I want Gordon to go out on his own terms.” She reminded me of this conversation this past week. I was a fan of Earnhardt, the pain of his loss echoes with every lap that is turned. I still sit back and wonder “what would Earnhardt think of this?”
Gordon got to choose. Gordon got to decide for himself, his team and his family that this was it. Gordon’s announcement in January he reiterated his desire to go out competitive, at the top of his game and with a chance at the title. On Sunday he got that chance and for him even coming away without a fifth title; he was satisfied.
“I think the Chase truly showed that. I’m extremely proud of my driving and our team effort over these last 10 races. I think that that’s something that is going to stick with me for a very long time, and how I made the announcement and how we approached the season and how we finished it.” Gordon said after Homestead.
All he wanted was a shot this season. It was the same thing he wanted 24 years ago as a young kid, who nobody thought could race and beat this sports very best. Gordon proved them all wrong. He has carried this sport for the last 23 years. He took over as the leader in the garage after his friend and toughest competitor in Earnhardt died. He represented this sport with respect, grace and a professionalism that young drivers try to emulate to this day.
Now it is someone else’s turn to be the leader in the garage and the voice that this sport so desperately needs.
Yet, there will never be another Jeff Gordon. What we saw yesterday from the fans, his peers and others will never be seen again. Not because others don’t deserve the recognition but because Gordon has been the face of this sport since 1992 and now the sport is searching for its new identity.
It was unforgettable, it was a moment frozen in time. NASCAR didn’t rush it. They soaked it all in. Reveled in the moment as even they recognized, Gordon earned this moment.
Sunday on the grandest stage, in his final race, Gordon got to do something few in sports get to do: go out at the top of his game.
For that I am thankful.
Photo: NASCAR
NASCAR Lugnuts 