will, hold the right to
punish at their discretion.
That
morning after the drivers meeting, we were told for one, we’d start from the
back, Jimi was being fined $50,000 and our team in particular was fined
$25,000. Then they added that Kyle would be suspended for two races.
We filed
an appeal right away.
Would we
win the appeal?
More than
likely the answer was no, but we had to file one to keep Kyle on the box for
Daytona.
Kyle,
Mason and I huddled around the car as Jimi wheeled himself up the grid. “These fines
are getting as steep as Kyle’s hair line,” he spouted off with a carefully
composed expression.
Mason and
I chuckled. Kyle did not. He was suppressing his irritation the best he could
but not well enough. He sighed and looked over the car. “We fucked up.” He
frowned, “I can’t offer much more than this.”
Kyle’s
eyes drifted from mine to the tram working diligently to fix the car as he
focused on the difficult position this put all of us in. The muscles in his jaw
pulsed as his free hand scrubbed at his face, his frustration flamed.
I couldn’t
have Kyle taking the blame for it all so when the media question me, my answer
was simple and I spoke the truth as I always did.
“This is
on me just as much is it’s on our team. I’m not going to give you any excuses
and I take full responsibility for what happened.” I searched their faces to
see if they believed me but all I got was blank stares.
“So you
cheated?” The reporter asked with a cocky edge. “Maybe that explains the
seventeen championships you’ve won. Cheating?”
Just like
that the lightness of the conversation vanished and I knew I was being backed
into a corner with no way out. Even still, I hadn’t lost that spark of defiance
that made me who I was. No way were they going backdoor me on this one.
Kyle looked
up at me surprised and maybe even a little skeptical at what my response would
be. If I had said that Kyle was trying to gain us some speed by shaving down
the fenders a fraction of an inch than yes, we would have been in some hot
water but you have to understand that every team cuts corners like that. It’s
all about whom crosses over into the gray line too much.
Kyle
crossed his arms over his chest and leaned into the pit box. You could see the
tension of the day embedded in his shoulders. He glanced at me once more before
I spoke and I caught on to the loophole. His eyes gave him away every time but
maybe it was that we’d been working together for so long. We had the fact that
they didn’t put the claw on the car before. Had they done that, they would have
known the car wasn’t cleared prior to race day. Though this meant nothing
today, it would for our appeal and Kyle knew that.
“Every
team out there pushes the boundaries,” I said looking from Kyle to the media.
Each reporter in front of me listened closely all hanging their recorders in my
face, “it doesn’t matter what sport you’re in, people push until they can’t
push anymore. You can look at any sport out there right now whether it’s
racing, football, baseball, even hockey; they all push to gain the edge. That’s
all it is.”
I’m not
going to sit here and say that cheating is okay because it’s not but when you
are allowed such a small window to make adjustments you find yourself searching
for anything you can. Hell I used to race with guys who would replace their
roll cage with exhaust tubing to make the car lighter during the race, Was it
safe?
No, fuck
no. If they would have wrecked it could have easily killed them. Nevertheless,
they got their cars lighter for the main events and sometimes pulled off a
much-needed win. It’s that line again. What would you do to be the best in a
sport that is highly competitive? Some sacrificed safety for the win.
Back at
the hauler for the team meeting, I stretched my legs out trying to get the
blood flowing again. The hauler came alive as the team made their way inside
for the
punish at their discretion.
That
morning after the drivers meeting, we were told for one, we’d start from the
back, Jimi was being fined $50,000 and our team in particular was fined
$25,000. Then they added that Kyle would be suspended for two races.
We filed
an appeal right away.
Would we
win the appeal?
More than
likely the answer was no, but we had to file one to keep Kyle on the box for
Daytona.
Kyle,
Mason and I huddled around the car as Jimi wheeled himself up the grid. “These fines
are getting as steep as Kyle’s hair line,” he spouted off with a carefully
composed expression.
Mason and
I chuckled. Kyle did not. He was suppressing his irritation the best he could
but not well enough. He sighed and looked over the car. “We fucked up.” He
frowned, “I can’t offer much more than this.”
Kyle’s
eyes drifted from mine to the tram working diligently to fix the car as he
focused on the difficult position this put all of us in. The muscles in his jaw
pulsed as his free hand scrubbed at his face, his frustration flamed.
I couldn’t
have Kyle taking the blame for it all so when the media question me, my answer
was simple and I spoke the truth as I always did.
“This is
on me just as much is it’s on our team. I’m not going to give you any excuses
and I take full responsibility for what happened.” I searched their faces to
see if they believed me but all I got was blank stares.
“So you
cheated?” The reporter asked with a cocky edge. “Maybe that explains the
seventeen championships you’ve won. Cheating?”
Just like
that the lightness of the conversation vanished and I knew I was being backed
into a corner with no way out. Even still, I hadn’t lost that spark of defiance
that made me who I was. No way were they going backdoor me on this one.
Kyle looked
up at me surprised and maybe even a little skeptical at what my response would
be. If I had said that Kyle was trying to gain us some speed by shaving down
the fenders a fraction of an inch than yes, we would have been in some hot
water but you have to understand that every team cuts corners like that. It’s
all about whom crosses over into the gray line too much.
Kyle
crossed his arms over his chest and leaned into the pit box. You could see the
tension of the day embedded in his shoulders. He glanced at me once more before
I spoke and I caught on to the loophole. His eyes gave him away every time but
maybe it was that we’d been working together for so long. We had the fact that
they didn’t put the claw on the car before. Had they done that, they would have
known the car wasn’t cleared prior to race day. Though this meant nothing
today, it would for our appeal and Kyle knew that.
“Every
team out there pushes the boundaries,” I said looking from Kyle to the media.
Each reporter in front of me listened closely all hanging their recorders in my
face, “it doesn’t matter what sport you’re in, people push until they can’t
push anymore. You can look at any sport out there right now whether it’s
racing, football, baseball, even hockey; they all push to gain the edge. That’s
all it is.”
I’m not
going to sit here and say that cheating is okay because it’s not but when you
are allowed such a small window to make adjustments you find yourself searching
for anything you can. Hell I used to race with guys who would replace their
roll cage with exhaust tubing to make the car lighter during the race, Was it
safe?
No, fuck
no. If they would have wrecked it could have easily killed them. Nevertheless,
they got their cars lighter for the main events and sometimes pulled off a
much-needed win. It’s that line again. What would you do to be the best in a
sport that is highly competitive? Some sacrificed safety for the win.
Back at
the hauler for the team meeting, I stretched my legs out trying to get the
blood flowing again. The hauler came alive as the team made their way inside
for the
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