There were no such admissions -- and smartly so -- by Denny Hamlin in the aftermath of last Saturday night's event at Richmond International Raceway, which turned into a complete free-for-all in the closing laps after Hamlin cut a tire and Kyle Busch and Dale Earnhardt Jr. wrecked racing for the lead. Junior Nation went expectedly apoplectic, demanding the younger Busch's noggin on a pike. Wherever he went during this week's test at Lowe's Motor Speedway, Busch was escorted by three security guards, which might have been a ploy by track promoter Humpy Wheeler to milk the incident for all it's worth.
And who can blame him? Busch is public enemy No. 1 right now. Of course, lost in all this is the fact that Busch would likely never have gotten within ramming distance of Earnhardt had Hamlin's car not stopped in the high lane with a shredded tire, bringing out a caution with 10 laps remaining and setting the stage for what was to follow. That Hamlin was later able to drive to pit road didn't sit well with race officials, who parked the Joe Gibbs Racing driver for two laps. It all combined to create a seemingly unshakable premise -- Hamlin had chosen that very point to stop, knowing the yellow would help Busch catch Earnhardt. He had taken one for the team.
Denny Hamlin's dream weekend turned into a nightmare at Richmond. Why? Josh Pate says it's tough to find justification.
Or had he? Sure, NASCAR officials penalized him two laps Saturday night, but thus far there have been no fines or point deductions like those assessed to Earnhardt and Kurt Busch in similar, previous situations. According to series officials, none are expected. In communication over the radio, Hamlin and crew chief Mike Ford were obsessed over the state of the tire, not the position of their teammate. And addressing the situation at the Charlotte test, Hamlin said he had equipment issues that forced him to stop.
"I was trying to get to pit road, and the problem was, if I ran any kind of speed around the racetrack, I was going to drag the sway-bar arm off," he said. "It went in Turn 3, and that's when I totally lost the entire tire. So I stopped trying to be able to turn it down onto pit road, but I had already crossed over the wall. I didn't want to risk tearing up the car to where we couldn't finish the race. So I knew I had to stop, or else I was going to jeopardize us even finishing the race. It was a fine line there. We had to stop, or else we were going to get a DNF. Because our sway-bar arms, the way they are designed, they just can't stay on that racetrack for long, and we were already dragging it as soon as the tire started going down. Just one of those deals, I guess."
So was he trying to help Busch win the race? "I didn't even know where Kyle was out on the racetrack," he said. "For all I know, he was leading the race."
That much is plausible. During a race, drivers are ensconced in 3,400-pound, 150 mph cocoons that demand their immediate and unwavering attention. Listen to a driver over the radio, and he'll occasionally ask his spotter where his teammates are running. Because strapped inside all that sheet metal, able to look only forward, he often has no real idea. Of all the people watching the race, drivers have the worst vantage point. They see only their switches and dials and windshield and rearview mirror, and have to rely on the voices in their ear for just about everything else.
Was the caution Hamlin prompted by stopping on the racetrack the primary reason his teammate Busch was able to catch Earnhardt? Unquestionably. Did it indirectly cause the wreck that followed? Absolutely. But this isn't Junior spinning himself out, or Kurt Busch punting the guy directly in front of him. To think that Hamlin, stressed out with a tire going down after leading almost every lap of a race at his hometown track, had the time or the wherewithal to concoct some grand conspiracy plot is stretch of reason. More likely it was just stubbornness and anger, hoping against hope that the thing would hold out a while longer, an unwillingness to accept that so much within his grasp was being taken away.
"Just from an outsider looking in, it looked very obvious to me that he was frustrated, overly frustrated that he had just led 300-some laps and was pretty much going to win that race," Jeff Gordon said. "I think he was extremely upset and frustrated. Obviously he didn't do what most people would do, which was come to pit road long before the tire blows, you know? It was obvious when I went by him that he had a real issue, that is all I can say. I don't know why he stopped, why he didn't come to pit road, but that would be my guess."
But of course, this is NASCAR, where any unfortunate event becomes some kind of grand scheme on the level of alien beings in desert hangars or straw men on a grassy knoll. Yes, Denny Hamlin certainly made a mistake, and very likely broke some unwritten rule of driver etiquette by staying on the track too long, getting in the way, and influencing the outcome. But that doesn't make him Lee Harvey Oswald. It makes him exactly what he is -- a young, headstrong driver who hopefully will learn from the experience, maybe get to pit road a little quicker next time, and not let his frustrations affect others trying to finish.
Or had he? Sure, NASCAR officials penalized him two laps Saturday night, but thus far there have been no fines or point deductions like those assessed to Earnhardt and Kurt Busch in similar, previous situations. According to series officials, none are expected. In communication over the radio, Hamlin and crew chief Mike Ford were obsessed over the state of the tire, not the position of their teammate. And addressing the situation at the Charlotte test, Hamlin said he had equipment issues that forced him to stop.
"I was trying to get to pit road, and the problem was, if I ran any kind of speed around the racetrack, I was going to drag the sway-bar arm off," he said. "It went in Turn 3, and that's when I totally lost the entire tire. So I stopped trying to be able to turn it down onto pit road, but I had already crossed over the wall. I didn't want to risk tearing up the car to where we couldn't finish the race. So I knew I had to stop, or else I was going to jeopardize us even finishing the race. It was a fine line there. We had to stop, or else we were going to get a DNF. Because our sway-bar arms, the way they are designed, they just can't stay on that racetrack for long, and we were already dragging it as soon as the tire started going down. Just one of those deals, I guess."
So was he trying to help Busch win the race? "I didn't even know where Kyle was out on the racetrack," he said. "For all I know, he was leading the race."
That much is plausible. During a race, drivers are ensconced in 3,400-pound, 150 mph cocoons that demand their immediate and unwavering attention. Listen to a driver over the radio, and he'll occasionally ask his spotter where his teammates are running. Because strapped inside all that sheet metal, able to look only forward, he often has no real idea. Of all the people watching the race, drivers have the worst vantage point. They see only their switches and dials and windshield and rearview mirror, and have to rely on the voices in their ear for just about everything else.
Was the caution Hamlin prompted by stopping on the racetrack the primary reason his teammate Busch was able to catch Earnhardt? Unquestionably. Did it indirectly cause the wreck that followed? Absolutely. But this isn't Junior spinning himself out, or Kurt Busch punting the guy directly in front of him. To think that Hamlin, stressed out with a tire going down after leading almost every lap of a race at his hometown track, had the time or the wherewithal to concoct some grand conspiracy plot is stretch of reason. More likely it was just stubbornness and anger, hoping against hope that the thing would hold out a while longer, an unwillingness to accept that so much within his grasp was being taken away.
"Just from an outsider looking in, it looked very obvious to me that he was frustrated, overly frustrated that he had just led 300-some laps and was pretty much going to win that race," Jeff Gordon said. "I think he was extremely upset and frustrated. Obviously he didn't do what most people would do, which was come to pit road long before the tire blows, you know? It was obvious when I went by him that he had a real issue, that is all I can say. I don't know why he stopped, why he didn't come to pit road, but that would be my guess."
But of course, this is NASCAR, where any unfortunate event becomes some kind of grand scheme on the level of alien beings in desert hangars or straw men on a grassy knoll. Yes, Denny Hamlin certainly made a mistake, and very likely broke some unwritten rule of driver etiquette by staying on the track too long, getting in the way, and influencing the outcome. But that doesn't make him Lee Harvey Oswald. It makes him exactly what he is -- a young, headstrong driver who hopefully will learn from the experience, maybe get to pit road a little quicker next time, and not let his frustrations affect others trying to finish.
By David Caraviello NASCAR.COM
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