A GIANT IS GONE

It is said that good things are built on the backs of giants.

If such be the case, the racing community lost one of its giants Wednesday -- albeit a quiet one.

Motorsports has been built through those who have stepped forward and said, "I'll do it," regardless of whatever "it" may be, have been or will be.

Many, if not most have done it not for the pay, but because of the sport. A love, perhaps an even inexplicable love for the sport.

Indeed, if not for those "volunteers" -- a descriptive word that falls way short of describing the feeling inside of those performing the service -- it's doubtful the sport would exist today, absent of some stray traffic light or back-road country lane challenge (indeed, it would be reasonably argued, it's probable far fewer of those dangerous activities occur because of organized motorsports).

One of the most interesting aspects of motorsports -- and this writer believes sportscar racing is heads-and-tails above any other activity -- is its attraction to a broad socio-economic, demographic cross section of its participants, whether in the cockpit or pit lane.

In the Rolex Series -- about which this writer writes because he knows no other as well -- just about every professional discipline, and specialists within a larger discipline are found not only in the car but toiling in sportscar racing's pits.

Indeed, your correspondent knows a doctor who has for at least a decade worked for one prominent team, taking time, multiple days, away from his practice each time a Rolex Series race is scheduled. He does whatever is needed to be done, grunt work included.

Another of those "elsewhere" professionals in the 1990's began his sportscar involvement working for Bob and Bill Riley after following in the footsteps of his older brother.

The two brothers were so doggone good at their jobs that they've seen very nearly every major worldwide racetrack from where most sportscar fans would give much to be -- from the inside.

"It's a dream-come-true," the little brother said earlier this year when asked by a reporter about working in a pressure-cooker environment, the Rolex 24 At Daytona, with his family.

"We're truly fortunate because we get to do something together, as brothers, and with my son, Ian. We're a tight-knit family."

Mark Menego, little brother to Jim Menego and a very proud father of Ian Menego, unexpectedly passed on Wednesday, July 11.

Technology sales director for Herr-Voss Stamco at the time of his death, the Penn State grad remained true blue. Period.

So "blue," though, that he also wore the color on race day while in the SunTrust pits -- his last race being this month's Sahlen's Six Hours of The Glen.

This pit wanderer, who has known the Menego family for but a few years but who feels as though a decades-long part of that family, can remember Mark Menego not smiling about two or three times.

Always a smile on that man's face. Always.

It's an odd thing, but on Wednesday past, this writer, sitting before his laptop with fingers poised above the keyboard, suddenly thought of the three Menegos simultaneously, thinking "what a truly wonderful family they are."

And then he learned of Mark's death.

Three guys; all family; one following the other, all deeply dedicated to racing -- and to each other.

A family now one less, such seems so implausible when one considers Mark was all of 54 years; vibrant, youthful.

Such age seems, like, forever or, perhaps, "ancient" to someone half that age.

Myself well above that age, one almost expects everyone should live through it. Especially one of the world's genuinely good guys, from whom this person never, ever heard a bad word spoken.

May God rest your soul, Mark Menendez.

Later,

DC