I’m not entirely sure what the first competition was, but I’m almost certain that it was a race. Cain and Abel, no doubt entranced in their sibling rivalry, had to, at one point, have challenged one another in a contest of speed and/or strength. Over the years that followed, racing has developed significantly. We’ve introduced different means of racing, different locations, even different dynamics. As these changes have been implemented, the popularity of the world’s oldest competition has increased exponentially.
My thoughts were on this idea over the weekend, as I sat enthralled by the television watching the latest running of the Kentucky Derby. One of my favorite sporting events of the year, the Derby is a fast-paced thrill ride that captures the imagination and leaves the viewer catching his breath. While I was watching the Derby, I couldn’t help but think about how much I enjoy the race, especially when compared to my least favorite competition, NASCAR. Truth be told, there are many similarities between the two events, as both are competitions of speed played on an ovular track. It was strange to me that I would enjoy one so much more than the other, so I thought some more about why this was the case. Here’s what I came up with.
DIFFERENCE NUMBER ONE: THE CROWD
Perhaps the greatest aspect of the Kentucky Derby is the most appalling aspect of NASCAR: the folks in attendance. Scanning the crowd at the Derby, you are likely to see an amalgamation of spectacular hats, wild feathered devices, and more dudes in suits than your average Senate session. The crowd at the Kentucky Derby dresses up, dramatically, for the event. Not so much with the NASCAR crowd. At a car race, you’re not as likely to see Jethro in a suit and tie. In fact, you’re lucky if Jethro is even wearing a shirt, as that would only serve to cover up his numerically painted chest hair. Females are even more outlandish, choosing these events to display their collection of frayed t-shirts and cut-up jeans. Call me uppity, but if I have the choice between watching a woman wearing a pelican on her head and one with a purple-dyed mullet, I’m choosing the former each time.
DIFFERENCE NUMBER TWO: REPETITION
Perhaps the greatest side effect of the instant gratification internet age is that humans no longer possess the same level of patience as before. We want new, we want different, and we want it as soon as possible. Horse racing features a number of competitors going at top speed around a round track. Car racing features a number of competitors going at top speed around a round track, over and over and over and over again. It would be an interesting study to see if the popularity of NASCAR would increase if they changed the number of laps from 75,000 (estimated) to 1. Take a look at the television ratings for your average NASCAR event, and you’ll see that the most-watched laps of the race are always the first and the last. Combine those two into one mesmerizing lap? That’s called ratings gold, my friends.
DIFFERENCE NUMBER THREE: DIFFICULTY
I’m of the opinion that one of the tenants of sports fandom states that we watch sports because we enjoy watching others do that which we know we cannot do. I have never, nor will I ever, dunk a basketball, so I became a fan to see others accomplish that feat. Nor could I hit a curveball or sink a 30-foot putt, so I watch people better than me do just that. One thing that I know I can do, however, is successfully navigate a left turn. In fact, I take left turns in my car just about every single day. It’s not that interesting, and to the best of my knowledge I don’t have thousands of fans cheering me on while I make left turns. As such, I really don’t have much desire to watch someone make hundreds of left turns. Heck, they don’t even mix things up with a right turn! To summarize, the number of people that can make left turns is dramatically more than the number of people that can stay on a horse for longer than six seconds. If NASCAR wants to capture my interest, it should involve a driving feat that I know I can’t accomplish myself: parallel parking. Now that would sell tickets.
CONCLUSION
I’m not trying to disparage NASCAR, nor am I trying to demean those who passionately follow the competition. This essay is simply my attempt to discover why I enjoy one ovular racing activity over another. As a result of this exercise, though, I’m left pondering how we can use this knowledge for good. Is there a way to combine the best elements of both activities into one super-racing event? I suppose that, until we see the day where Jethro is sporting a Colonel Sanders suit and carrying a mint julip, we’ll never know. Dang.
