Perspectives

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Summary: Reflections on Dale Jr’s first race after the Sonoma fire through the eyes of a champion and an almost rookie.

AUTHOR: Catw00man
EMAIL: catw00man@cryptoffic.com
RATING: PG-13
CHARACTER: Jeff Gordon POV, Martin Truex Jr. POV
CATEGORY: Slight Angst
COMPLETED: August 9, 2004
WORD COUNT: 3,514
DISCLAIMER: I own NOTHING and am affiliated with NO ONE mentioned here. Not the drivers, not the teams, no one. This is all fiction and fun. In other words...NOT REAL, NOT REAL, NOT REAL. ;-)
DEDICATION: To Chrissy who inspired this whole thing. Hope this is what you had in mind hon.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I had originally planned on using many POVs in this fic, drivers, crew chiefs etc. But, then I was afraid the story wouldn’t flow well with so many different POVs. So then I got the idea of looking through the eyes of someone who had been around a long time and someone hadn’t. Thus entered Jeff and Martin. Hope you guys enjoy.
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Press Conference, New Hampshire International Speedway: July 23, 2005

Jeff Gordon POV

I stand at the back of the room. I just had to be here...to see for myself. For once my presence doesn’t seem to be noticed. That tends to happen sometimes when he walks into a room, especially after last weekend.

Last weekend... the image is still burned into my head. We could have lost him. I close my eyes and try to will away the thought. But, that’s why I’m here, to see for myself that he’s ok. I sigh and open my eyes. He really shouldn’t be here, being grilled by the press. But, that’s the price we pay isn’t it?

His neck is bandaged tightly, and he looks miserable. I can see the slight burns on his lip and chin, and the painful way he limped in the room is still fresh in my mind. The boy should be home resting. But, I know all too well why he isn’t. It’s the same reason I wouldn’t, the same reason his dad didn’t. We’re racecar drivers. Our lives really don’t belong to us anymore. The only peace we find is in that car on Sunday, and I know there’s no other place he’d rather be.

The media crush can’t seem to get enough. I see him squint a little at the flashbulbs in his face. They want to know what was it like? How far will he run? Can Martin drive the car? Why don’t they just let the kid get some rest?

But, he takes it all in stride, just like the champion I know he will be one day. It seems like there is more of his dad in him everyday. I wish Dale could be here to see him. I know he would be so proud of his boy. I know I am. I guess I’ll be proud of him for both of us. I just hope he doesn’t push himself too hard on Sunday.

The press conference seems to be winding down and I really don’t want to get caught by the media hounds. I take one more look, reassuring myself he’s still with us, and quietly slip out the back.

Qualifying, New Hampshire International Speedway: July 24, 2005

Martin Truex Jr. POV

I look at myself in the mirror one more time, still trying to believe that the red and black reflection is me. This just isn’t right I can’t help but think. Red is his color, not mine. This is his firesuit, not mine. The car I’m going to qualify doesn’t belong to me. It all feels like a crazy dream, and part of me wants to wake up and not see him standing there waiting for me, obviously still in pain. I know how much it takes for him to let anyone in his racecar. Until today his dad was the only one. I know I don’t deserve this honor. I still can’t believe I’m here.

I turn and follow him out of his coach and on to pit road. I all but wince at each of his painful steps. Does he even know how tough he is? He hides it all so well in public, but I have heard about him cursing up a blue streak at home. At the track he’s Dale Earnhardt Jr., legacy to a legend, and he always carries it well. I still can’t believe he picked me.

We’re closing in on pit road and he stops. He’s not going all the way. He’s already had his date with the media. But, as always he knew I didn’t want to make this journey alone. He’s making me into a better driver, a better person, and I still don’t know how he always seems to know when I need encouragement or a teasing remark. He’s always there for me. I just hope I can make him proud today.

He smiles at me, and tells me I better take care of “red.” He’s all but handing over the keys to me with the look of an overprotective father. I see in his eyes how hard this is for him. The pain is just under the surface. I just smile and tell him not to worry, that I’ll take care of his “baby.”

I walk on, feeling his eyes on my back as I enter pit road. I turn back, looking for what I’m not sure. But, he’s already gone. I square my shoulders and try to put on a look of more confidence than I feel, as I finally spot the red number 8. His number 8.

I see the reporters waiting for me, and try to imitate the careless ease he always seems to have with them. They don’t need to know that red number 8 intimidates the hell out of me. I just pray that I make him proud.

Qualifying, New Hampshire International Speedway: July 24, 2005

Jeff Gordon POV

I see him walk the boy almost to pit road and stop. He’s definitely had enough attention here already, but I know that’s not why he didn’t walk Martin to the car. It’s the same reason I wouldn’t. It’s one thing to think about getting out of a racecar, something I’ve never done. But, it’s a completely different thing to watch someone suit up and get in to drive your car. I still don’t know if I could do it. I know it’s only qualifying, but it’s his car. I guess it’s good he already had the kid picked out, but I bet it doesn’t make a difference. I don’t even think I could watch Jimmie drive my car.

I watch as the boy struggles to look confident and walks on leaving him standing there. The brave smile he put on his face for Martin’s benefit is gone, replaced by the pain only a driver like us can know. His eyes scan the cars on pit road with a burning desire to be there. I’d like to tell him I understand that I can imagine what he’s going through, but there is no time for words. It’s time for me to get in my own car and do what he wishes he could. I see him turn and walk back to his coach as quickly as he can as I turn to my own destination. As I strap into my car my heart’s a little heavier just imagining his pain.

Driver’s Meeting, New Hampshire International Speedway: July 25, 2005

Martin Truex Jr. POV

I can’t believe it’s already Sunday. I’m filled with excitement and terror as I slip on the red firesuit. I’m thrilled to be racing in a Cup race, but I’m so afraid of failing. What if the drive change doesn’t go smoothly? What if I mess up the car? What if I can’t run well enough?

The butterflies in my stomach are doing the rumba as he meets me and we walk to the drivers meeting... the Cup drivers meeting. I look over at him dressed to race and know I’m just a pale shadow. No one can replace him, least of all me. I’m just honored to be sitting next to him in the meeting. Does he even know the confidence that radiates from him? He’s the real deal. I’m just a cheap replica.

I try to listen as the meeting drones on, but my ears are ringing with tension. He’s so composed. He always is. He’s everything I wish I could be someday. Head held high through all the pain and adversity. It’s like none of it touches him. I just don’t want to screw up.

I see him turn and grin at me and whisper that it’s ok, he didn’t really hear a thing his first meeting either. He immediately puts me at ease, just like always he knows what I need to hear. I nod back to him and try once again to pay more attention. How am I going to race when I can’t even concentrate?

Driver’s Meeting, New Hampshire International Speedway: July 25, 2005

Jeff Gordon POV

I watch the two red clones come in that couldn’t look more different. It looks like the pressure is getting to the kid. But, I know he’ll be fine the moment he’s strapped into the car. It’s the other one that catches my eye.

He’s really grown up, I realize for probably the dozenth time since we lost his dad. He strolls in with an air of confidence and a cocky smile that I know most of the room takes at face value. “Junior’s suited up in Budweiser red, he’s going to be fine,” regardless of the bandages around his neck and slight bow legged limp. He’s one of the best, pushing it all down the same way I’ve done myself a million times. But, I see the turmoil behind his eyes. The anger at not healing fast enough. The frustration at the pain that won’t go away. The searing disappointment eating at your gut when you know you won’t drive the whole race, and the devastation when the heart and soul are willing and the body just can’t. I really don’t know if I would be handling it all as well as him.

They sit a few rows in front of me, and I can’t miss the small shifts he makes in his chair trying to get comfortable, knowing he won’t be able to. Doesn’t anyone else see the pain he’s in? Shouldn’t someone be trying to make him more comfortable? But, no one sees right now, they only see his brave front. I just hope he doesn’t have to go through all this too much longer.

He turns and smiles at the kid whispering something. Trying to calm his nerves no doubt. I wonder if the boy has any idea what it means to be driving his car, or if he’s too star-struck to notice. Does he know the pain Dale must be in to give up his ride? Probably not, but if Junior is right about the boy he probably will know one day. He once said he wants Martin to be his “Jimmie Johnson.” I hope he makes him proud.

The meeting is finally over and I watch him struggle to stand. Martin looks his way, but he hides the pain with a half smile. There’s no doubt in my mind he’ll be a champion several times over. It’s written all over him in every action, every word.

I hope you’ll be watching out for your boy today Dale. He needs you.

Race, New Hampshire International Speedway: July 25, 2005

Martin Truex Jr. POV

I couldn’t help but watch him in awe during driver introductions. It sounds like the whole world loves him as he drives by the screaming crowd. I think maybe they do. Who wouldn’t? He’s the second generation Intimidator.

The crew really tried to get him in the car without hurting him. I just hope they did. I couldn’t see his eyes as he slowly slipped into the car, but once he was in he never looked more right. That’s his car. I wonder what the crowd will think of me in it. He just gives a thumbs up to the rest of us in the pits as they help him finish strapping in.

I feel another wave of terrifying anticipation and anxiety as I think of “replacing” him in that car. I can’t ever replace him. I can never even come close.

Siemens 300, New Hampshire International Speedway: July 25, 2005

Jeff Gordon POV

It’s just wrong, so very wrong is all I can think as the red bumper with yellow stripes comes closer. That car should not have those stripes, especially not with him in it. As I pull along side the car that moves up the track I can’t contain the rage that builds inside me as I see him fighting the wheel.

Couldn’t they at least have given him a decent car? The one place he should be comfortable, if not physically, he should at least feel at home in that car. He should be able to find an escape. Instead he’s fighting an ill handling car which is a hell only we know. I just have to hope a caution comes out soon as the red car fades from my mirror.

I know that hell too well. When the car just won’t give you what you need. When you know there is no adjustment, no tweak to make it right. And now he has to add that to the list of things to deal with this weekend. He should be home. He should be resting. But, just like me, that was never an option.

I can’t get the image from my head of his crew helping him in the car during practice, and the memory of pain on his face that he tried so hard to hide. He can put on the smile for the press and his crew, but the eyes always tell the story. It’s the thought of those eyes that has me hoping once again for a caution to end his torment.

Siemens 300, New Hampshire International Speedway: July 25, 2005

Martin Truex Jr. POV

I’ve been pacing around the small pit box for what seems like forever, helmet on, ready for the switch. Why is the caution taking so long to come out? He hasn’t said a thing about how he feels on the radio since the green flag. He’s only telling us about the car, what we should do to make it better. But, unfortunately it looks like they missed the set up again. I can’t help but wonder if that might be my fault. I’m the one who practiced the car. I’m the one who qualified it. What if he’s out there struggling with a bad car because of me?

I shake my head trying to clear the thought from my head. I’m not going to be any good to the team, to him, if I’m second guessing myself before I even get in the car. I have to concentrate on running as well as I can. Make the best of what we have, just like he would.

Someone grabs my arm, and the pit box becomes controlled chaos as the caution finally flies. Junior is on the radio again as he prepares to pull the car in. The nervous butterflies are back in my stomach, and I take a deep breath as I see the red car pull down pit lane.

As the car comes to a stop I barely have time to take notice of him as they pull him from the car before I’m jumping in myself. I fight with the belts with practiced ease, get the steering wheel on and hit the gas. They tell me I just beat the pace car. I hurry the car around the track and try to finish getting everything hooked up. I just hope they didn’t hurt him too much pulling him from the car.

As I pull back in the pits and readjust the wheel I hope I can pull off a decent finish for him. As they put on four fresh tires and I hit the gas I realize again that he didn’t even complain about the pain on the radio. Just told us about the car and what needed to be fixed. I wonder if he even realizes how much I admire him for that. I hope I can be half the driver he is someday.

I shift in the seat and pull back onto the track, passing the pace car as we are the “lucky dog” for this caution and are back on the lead lap. Why did it take so long for the caution to come out? The heat I can already feel radiating from the car must have been pure agony for him. But, he goes on barely letting it show. I key the mic and ask if he’s ok. They tell me he is, just a little sore. I actually sigh in relief. Now if I can just take care of his car, if I can just make him proud.

I can’t imagine what it must be like for him to bear the name of Earnhardt. But, he does, and he does it well. I hope I can do as well for him.

Siemens 300 - Post Race, New Hampshire International Speedway: July 25, 2005

Jeff Gordon POV

I catch sight of them as I walk back to my coach after the race. They are standing outside Junior’s coach obviously discussing the race. I guess by the looks of the 8 car after the race it must have been a little too much for the kid to handle. But, judging from what he had to work with, he probably didn’t do too bad.

Well, he has one weekend down. Hopefully things will be better next week. At least he will have some more time to heal. Hopefully his crew will get it together and give him a decent car. They manage that, I doubt he’ll be needing a replacement. But, if not... I wouldn’t blame him if he bails again.

They step into his coach as I continue on to my own. I cast one more backward glance as he starts to close the door. But, for the first time this weekend, he sees me. His eyes meet mine and he knows. He knows I understand. He nods my direction, and I give him a half wave, just to let him know he’s not alone. As I climb into my own coach I say another “thank you” under my breath that he’s still here.

Siemens 300 - Post Race, New Hampshire International Speedway: July 25, 2005

Martin Truex Jr. POV

I wrecked the car. I can’t believe I wrecked the car. All I had to do was make laps and stay out of trouble. I couldn’t even do that. I didn’t want to disappoint him. I never want to disappoint him. Why couldn’t I just hold on to it a little longer?

I stop walking as I realize where I’m going. I’m headed to his coach. But, how can I go there? I don’t want to see the disappointment in his eyes. What can I say to him? Sorry for slamming your car in the wall?

I start to turn to go I don’t know where when I see him coming my way. I want to bolt, to run away. But, I know how stupid that would be. So I just stand here frozen as he comes closer. As he reaches me he smiles and tells me he was waiting for me. I don’t know what to say. Finally I just blurt out how sorry I am for wrecking his car.

He just looks at me for a beat then starts laughing... really laughing. I don’t know what to do. Why is he laughing? I guess the confusion is written all over my face because he stops laughing when he looks at me. Then he just smiles as he tells me that he put me in the car remember? I still don’t understand. Then he puts his arm around me and starts walking me back to his coach saying that I did a good job with the crap I had to drive. That’s when it hits me... he’s not mad!

As we reach his coach he turns and asks me to tell him about the race. I instantly switch to driver mode and describe the loose car and the tough short track. He just nods and apologizes to me for having put me in a bad car. I can’t believe he’s apologizing to me!

We stand there discussing the car and the race for awhile, and I realize everything is going to be fine. I didn’t let him down, even though part of me still feels like I did. I’m just glad I was here to try and help him out. Hopefully next week he won’t need any help. I can’t imagine he will. I just know I am so honored to know him, much less drive his car.

He motions to the coach and asks if I’d like to join him for a Bud. I nod and head into his home away from home. He follows me in and pauses as he closes the door. He nods to someone I can’t see and finally closes the door and turns back to me. I can’t help but notice that the heavy look in his eyes that has been there all weekend seems a little lighter. He heads to the kitchen to grab some beers, and I can’t help but look to the closed door wondering who he was nodding too that somehow lifted his spirits just a bit more.

I shrug my shoulders and follow my mentor into the kitchen for some post race refreshment and smile. I know now that everything’s going to be all right.

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Catw00man - catw00man@cryptoffic.com