TIME HAS COME TODAY

Some folks have recently inquired . . . check that . . . a surprising number of folks (for which this hack is very grateful) have wondered aloud, some repeatedly (thanks, JJ and MG and JM and IM and BM and . . .), as to why Cold Pit has gone, um, “cold.”

My response to each is the same as that which has been repeatedly employed: There wasn’t much of anything about which to write. Well, there was that white lie told to JJ (notice how one can choose the colors of his lies?) that a certain facebook account is where one might find “warmer” and newer words instead of the now gone ColdPit blog. By the way (in a little personal message, here. So if you’ll please excuse us . . .) it isn’t really gone, JJ. It’s just that you wouldn’t have believed yours truly had no words to write, when I really didn’t!

(And should anyone get all agog over the use of a lowercase “facebook,” suggested then is a peek at one’s upper-left corner whilst visiting facebook, which evidently feels that should an organization’s all-caps moniker get printed, then so, too, should an alphabetical counterpart.

More recently, instead of grousing about there being little of substantive nature about which to write, this writer instead has been inclined to use metaphor, such as: “The middle of North American sports car racing has recently been like that of someone standing in a 7-ft. dinghy while in the midst of 20-ft. seas.”

Put a different way: Confusion and uncertainty now reigns in North American sports car racing.

Oh, the upper echelon of the new, um, “lon” (?) is trying hard, though there are plenty of people, a “majority” is what might claim, who know not what these people are doing with the investments originally made and currently carried by team owners.

“They’ll have these get-togethers for which advertised is information disbursement but during which the only thing actually seen is a thorough patting upon their respective backs,” say a composite of the chieftains made whilst standing aside cars which represent millions of dollars in a business that is, for the most part, controlled by others.

That they have little control over their own fortunes is not an easy pill to swallow for team owners who are accustomed to determining their own diagnosis and the medicine necessary for countering what ails them, now becoming especially concerned for those who are dependent on the team owners taking the right treatment so that everyone safely awakens where each seek to be, financially.

One can only wonder what the paddock’s topmost control freak - the control freak of control freaks - is doing to calm himself while awaiting results from what the efforts of others, minions all, are doing to a series he personally built from ground upward.

It must be pure hell.

Indeed, and in fact, it’s also pure hell for that team’s crew members - and not just from their “master’s” increased anxiousness, either. Some of these, um, scum-of-the-earth, greasy over-the-wall types are themselves captains of industry, whether situated in major metropolitan areas or guiding their own little “industry” back in Hometown, USA. What they aren’t lacking is smarts, many having educations that few would come close to imagining, with advanced degrees in business, scientific, medical and engineering fields, judicial and many other fields – all of whom are gladly taking vacations, an event at a time, and who need to know the when and where of a following season because they really have need of planning that far in advance.

It sometimes can’t help but be wondered if series’ administrators know the credentials of those who they readily pass when strolling along almost any pit lane in sports car racing.

Indeed, it’s doubtful anyone who labors at all in the paddock is absent of apprehension over a future which is now being built more by those responsible for building the new series than anyone or anything else.

While it’s easy to think one could or should easily “chill,” such really is doubtful when someone has little clue – other than repeatedly saying, nay, chanting – much as did Little Miss Dorothy and her ruby red heels – “There’ll be a season next year; There’ll be a season next year; There’ll be a season next year” – when the bosses are responsible not only to crews – many if not most being as close to family as one can get absent of matching DNA – as well as, sometimes, stockholders and boards of directors for the haulers, shops, equipment, supplies, race cars and whatever else whose assets easily number in the millions of dollars for each team, regardless of team.

When seen at each race in the media center is worry etched into the faces of those who labor over a keyboard or whose vision has been fouled by one eye constantly seeing something through a telescopic lens, it doesn’t take long to learn of that person’s angst over the following season and whether he or she will have anything at all to do with it.

In fact, inflaming the worry over prospective change and uncertainty are the loss of jobs by those who presently don’t know how or where a lost income will be replaced. Furthermore, rarely paid in the world of racing journalism is severance, which is about as rare as jobs are today. Yet, if one is inclined toward and thinks highly of people who truly hustle for a living, look no farther than a media center. It’s full of ‘em.

Believe: Concern about having jobs or fulfilling roles while away from jobs is an honest-to-goodness issue at a time when the U.S. is experiencing the worst, longest-lasting, so-called “recovery” (should one dare call it that) since World War II.

There is now at least a couple of teams – race- or even championship-winning teams at that – which for the 2014 season felt there was no choice but to shelve respective plans to step up a racing-class grade or, maybe, two because timely information was lacking in its arrival.

To be somewhat fair in this litany of negativism by a self-admitted, at-this-moment “nabob” (ask your grandfather), the bringing together of two sanctioning bodies, or companies for all that’s worth, isn’t an easy task. Indeed, the process likely is more difficult than is quarterbacking a professional football team (no, unlike others, I will not grant the use of “NFL” as sufficient in conveying the idea of professional football. After all, there’s the Lingerie League, the games of which grab this armchair quarterback’s rapt attention rather quickly, despite his state of rapid overall decline).

As tough as it has been for this observer to see any member of this racing family walk through the gate for a last time – even those with whom this writer disagreed, because they have families, too – it’s probably pretty easy to grasp how uncomfortable it must be to fire someone. Especially if that “someone” is an otherwise likeable sort.

Now, multiply “firing” many, many times over. It hurts on both sides.

No, laying unclaimed by this writer is any hint at all of the “ease” experienced by those who’ve taken IMSA, versions 1.998 – 2.013, and Grand-Am apart, examined the many pieces and duplicates in each, then started reassembling them as IMSA ver. 3.0.

Not gonna go there at all; there being a lot on the plates of those having to divine the proper 2014-and-beyond path for professional sports car racing.

Still, there are a whole bunch of wound-up souls who need to know how the 2014 International Sports Car Racing series will function, from top to bottom . . .

Like yesterday.

Later,

DC

Burt and Brian Frisselle Do Kansas Speedway

TOM'S BIG DAY

NEW YORK CITY! (26Mar2013) - I know, I know, it's only taken me about six months to think of this angle, but does anyone else find it curious or just "coincidental" that descendants of the former Axis Powers-That-Be are again joining together. (That would be Germany and Japan, Menendez.)

Of course, those two are tonight joining with a former arch enemy, U.S.-based IMSA, er, Grand-Am . . . naw, let's just do what's right and go with "IMSA" from here-on-out; might as well get used to it considering "IMSA" evidently will never go away. (Okay by me.)

It's a deal now a little better than two years in the making or, maybe three. Somewhere in there. Knowing that telephone bills are records so solid that law enforcement communities nationwide salivate at the mere mention of the idea, yours truly could exactly ascertain when called was Grand-Am immediate past president Tom Bledsoe and he happened to be in Italy on "business," his having been in Spain just the day previous, and so on . . .

Bledsoe still was the organization's potentate (the "grand potentate" being, well, you know who), who happened at that moment to be answering his cell phone when it was something like 2 a.m. IT ((Italy Time, Menendez)).

Now, Mr. Bledsoe having demanded (commanded?) an Off The Record ("OTR," Menendez) chat agreement just after the point in time when he said, "Hello, DC" upon answering his cell phone, little was subsequently seen on paper or in blogs excepting a hint here and there.

When Bledsoe surrendered his title to Mr. Ed Bennett - who since has done one whale of a better job than Bledsoe (er, just kidding, there, Tom.)(No I wasn't, Ed) - asked afterward of Mr. Bledsoe by yours truly during one of our quiet moments of solitude together was, "So, now that you're heading for the over-50-only The Villages (Florida) community, Tom, what's to become of the DTM thing."

"I ain't gonna let that sucker go untill'in' I get that sucker nailed on down," - or something of that nature, though it is believed Bledsoe used a few more $50 words than the above. Not many; but a few.

At the time, most in the racing community didn't know much about Bledsoe; some thinking he got the potentate job due to he and Jim France being related by blood.

It was a "blood" relationship based on coincidental logic (should such even exist) and having extrapolated that relationship based only on Bledsoe's surname and "Anne B." France's* maiden name being the same in spelling, suddenly his being there was "a family thing, you know," when it was nothing of the sort.

*(Anne France, who died Jan. 2, 1992, is the mother of Jim France and his late brother, Bill France Jr. She is the grandmother of JC and Brian France, as well as Lesa F. Kennedy and still other family members who aren't as publicly prominent as the aforementioned.

(As Big Bill France's capable business partner, Anne France oversaw NASCAR and International Speedway Corporation's front office from the now-separate organizations' earliest days. Indeed, she even sat in ticket booths, exchanging money for race tickets. Man, these folks weren't always wealthy beyond mere mortals' beliefs - they actually worked for it.

(Which begs a question: All things considered, might the more preferable be a welfare recipient or a person who happened to love what he or she did and made some serious money while doing it?

(While Big Bill and "Annie B" may have hoped for wealth beyond the wildest of dreams, be assured there were times when the family could hardly rub together just two nickels between the four of them.)

(So, what's it gonna be: welfare money - the original intent of which was to provide basic sustenance until the recipient was able to again provide for themselves - or someone who said, "No thanks, I'll just do it on my own" and, because he loved it, made some darn good change in the process?)

Okay, where were we before the soapbox appeared? Ah, yes: Mr. Bledsoe and DTM.

So, while Mr. Bennett was pursuing knowledge of the strange thinking processes found within these "alien" race car owners, teams, drivers, officials and fans -- otherwise known as sportscar types -- Mr. Bledsoe was out chasing one of his dreams: bringing DTM to the U.S. under Grand-Am's auspices.

Eventually, Bledsoe's pursuit would include a suddenly interjected Japanese-based Super GT Sports Car series, too, which was kinda, sorta self-wedged into the process about a year after the whole DTM deal first started smoking and, last fall, announced those two series' forming a joint pursuit of rules, races and etc. At the time, one got the feeling "that was that." Only, it wasn't.

The impetus for DTM and, eventually, Super GT getting in touch with Grand-Am and, dare we be so bold, those entities eventually joining?

Forcing the issue was the cost of racing and the want of containing such - yep, you read correctly - because even DTM and Super GT couldn't afford the series' owners and manufacturers (yep, them, too) not being able to afford the cost of racing. That being the case, then how in heck could a team afford something that the manufacturers and series' owners couldn't afford? If no one was able to afford racing, no fan could, either - or, at least, the bulk of them.

With a mindset bent on controlling costs and before anyone could seven-times say, "Super GT Sports Car series," DTM called the one professional sports car sanctioning body that had the best, most effective in-place cost controls: Grand-Am.

And it all culminates with tonight's New York City announcement - yours truly not even remotely wishing to miss personally seeing Bledsoe's crowning achievement (before he moves to The Villages, finally).

Without getting too emotionally involved, Bledsoe wasn't really much different than anyone who has been successful: He started with an idea, put so much work into it that even when he "retired" he really didn't, and got it done.

Congratulations, Tom. Very cool.

Later,

DC

HAPPY BIRTHDAY DORSEY SCHROEDER!

On May 31, 1986, rookie driver Dorsey Schroeder won his first IMSA race at Road Atlanta.

Schroeder's second win, coming just four races later at Lime Rock Park, Terry Lee Earwood did not at some point jump into the car, either. Nor was the co-driver his winning partner from the first race, Larry Huff.

By Dorsey Schroeder's third win, gone was the guy, Paul Tosi, with whom he scored a second win.

Confused? Evidently so was Dorsey Schroeder . . . or he just flat-out didn't like anyone, even if they did help him win.

Scored only 11 days shy of his first IMSA Firestone Firehawk Series win, Steve "Younga" DeBrecht was the next dude what shared driving duties with Schroeder. (Yes, yes, I know, the preceding "what" placement freaks English/journalism teachers everywhere, but Dorsey seems to better grasp a sentence, any sentence at all, if it contains "what.")

Indeed, it was in IMSA-rookie Schroeder's third Firestone Firehawk Series race, coincidentally Schroeder's third IMSA Firestone Firehawk series race (think about it) -- The Seagram's Cooler 24-Hour at Watkins Glen -- that he'd pair with first-win co-driver Huff; second-win co-driver Tosi, and, finally, no-win Earwood (at least with Schroeder).

Something was amiss; the four-driver team finished 15th and, as was the man that he is, Schroeder stepped up and took absolutely no responsibility, pointing the fickle finger of fate directly at Earwood. Or so it is said herein.

Accordingly, the two -- Schroeder and Earwood -- are besttest buddies to this very day or, maybe, yesterday. Nevertheless: “go figure.”

Schroeder, who for some oblique reason didn't exactly cop a whole bunch of IMSA Firestone Firehawk Series seat time in 1987, at least won (with "Younga" DeBrecht) in the only race Schroeder entered that year.

Having in 1987 blazed a trail unlike any scorched by anyone beforehand, Schroeder without a doubt was ready to roll when the first race of 1988 came 'round, jumping up and into an IMSA GTU Dodge Daytona ride, fielded by (what else?) "Full Time Racing."

Having qualified 66th, the team (Schroeder, Phil Currin and Kal Showket) completed but 62 of the eventual winner's 728 laps around the 3.56-mile Daytona International Speedway road course.

The team's No. 00 Dodge Daytona was officially retired as the result of a "spin" -- which evidently must've placed somewhere on the meter between "mind-blowing hallucinogenic" and "Depends" -- finished 71st of the 75 cars what started that year's SunBank 24 At Daytona.

It was later rumoured among two people that eventual race victors Martin Brundle, Raul Boesel and John Nielsen had to change their No. 60 Jaguar XJR-9's nosepiece that supposedly may have made short work of Full Time. (TWR team manager Tony Dowe, God love his pea-picking heart because Morris Nunn doesn't, is off in Australia the last time I heard and kinda hard to reach in the Aboriginal regions where he's gone to hide . . . or something like that).

Having redemption on his mind some six-weeks later at the famed 12-Hours of Sebring, Bruce MacInnes joined Schroeder and Full Time for a 25-lap-long romp around a 4.11-mile road course upon which Hans Joachim Stuck and Klaus Ludwig won about 11-hours later in Bruce Leven's "Bayside Disposal" (Q: "How's the trash business?" A: "Picking up.") Porsche 962-121.

Interestingly, of the 65 cars that, (oops) what started the race, Schroeder and MacInnes finished 61st. One car ahead in 60th place was the No. 60 Jag XJR-9 of, you guessed it, Martin Brundle, John Nielsen and Raul Boesel.

Just a coincidence or is it the foretelling of a Mayan Apocalyptic tragedy set for 21 December 2012? You be the judge.

The International Motor Sports Association was at the tail-end of its heyday and Schroeder, try as he may, darn sure didn't ride it as well as he might have or, even, could have.

In Sept. 1988, Schroeder scored a fourth professional win, his second Lime Rock Park win and the last of the 1988 season.

Yet, over the last four or five races of that '88 season a trend of sorts developed wherein Schroeder would, often did start at a field's rear only to capture a top-10 or top-5 finish.

One particular odd distinction arose to distinguish between Schroeder having a very good finish and a not-so-good finish: put Schroeder in a single-class race and he'd darn near wipe the floor.

Evidently somebody over at Jack Roush saw something in Schroeder that year. Who knows what was seen? Indeed, many still wonder to this day. Whatever it may have been, Schroeder suddenly was thrust into The Bigs of GT racing.

In the early 1980's Ford chose Roush and team to put the carmaker out front in Trans-Am racing.

Driving talent including the likes of Tom Gloy, Wally Dallenbach Jr., Willy T Ribbs and Scott Pruett (anyone see him lately; wonder what Pruett's doing nowadays?) quite capably ran Mercury Capri V8s and Merkur XR4Ti turbocharged 4-cyl., the former carrying Ford to manufacturer titles in 1984 and 1985, with Dallenbach taking driving honors in 1985 (though Willy T won more races and led the end-of-year money list, Dallenbach scored a higher average finish and won the driving title; followed with another in 1986).

After Pruett won the title in 1987, Hurley Haywood in an Audi Quattro took it away in 1988.

1989 was a hallmark year for Ford, and it was intending to send out a lot of 'em, too. But plainly, it needed a superdriver to step from the ranks and found it in an unlikely source: a four-race winner coming from what many saw as a bush-league, junior-league series.

Yet, Dorsey Schroeder drove his Roush Mustang as though he was being chased -- but by “what: isn’t immediately obvious because many people even today will say it was and still is "inner demons" that pushed Schroeder to car-racing's pinnacle and alternately gashed his leg on a dock as recently as 2012.

Whatever, ahem, "drove" certainly succeeded.

After IMSA GT tune-up races in the SunBank 24 At Daytona and Mobil 1 12 Hours of Sebring, in which Schroder and Dallenbach were joined by NASCAR star Mark Martin in Daytona for a 2nd-place finish and scored a GT-class win in the second, Schroeder opened his first-ever SCCA campaign with a sixth at Long Beach, a second at Sears Point (Sonoma; Infineon) and then he started rolling, er, actually, "steam-rolling" might be more appropriate.

One at times wonders if race car drivers remember their "first," or perhaps even a "second first" or, going all the way in Schroeder's case, a "fifth first."

(Confused? You should take a look within my head.)

However, just in case Dorsey has gotten too damn old as of today, here it is: 3 hours, 16 minutes and 220 miles north of Austin, Texas, one will find the locale of Schroeder's first Trans-Am win: Addison Airport.

"Addison Airport!?"

Let's just call it "The First Circuit Of The Americas."

Note to Bob Stallings, Terry Wilkins and Link; can't omit Link: No, guys, this is not an attempt to deride your "hood." One supposes you, too, could be racing on the track that Dorsey made famous, such as it is, but Addison didn't make the SCCA's race calendar the following year nor, indeed, any race series' subsequent calendar yet seen by yours truly. In short: No worries, Austin!

Thirty-five cars started in the Pontiac (ask Richard Petty) Grand Prix of Dallas, among the drivers of which were Lyn St. James (5th); Scott Sharp (24th); and, even R.J. Valentine (15th)!

For the SCCA Trans-Am's following event in the street's of Detroit, Schroeder would score his first big-time pole!

In the wake of the above point and presuming at least some confusion may have arisen in the minds of some readers (like I said, you should see it in here), Dorsey hadn't scored even a single, lousy pole in the Firestone Firehawk Series.

After a not-too-shabby 4th-place at Detroit and a 38th at Cleveland's Burke Lakefront Airport (blamed on a "bad rear end"; Dorsey at least started on the outside pole), the 36-year-old boy from Kirkwood, Mo., flat-out galloped in his Roush Ford Mustang!

In the nine, count 'em, nine following races on the 1989 SCCA Trans-Am calendar, Schroeder didn't start OR finish outside of the top-10 (keep calm, Dorsey, keep calm. This deserves a big roll-out).

Indeed, at the end of those nine remaining 1989 Trans-Am races, Dorsey didn't once start or finish a race outside of the top-5.

Yep, in the Trans-Am's nine remaining 1989 races, Dorsey failed just one time to finish outside of the top-3 -- a 4th-place at Heartland Park.

The perfectionist car builder and team owner, Jack Roush, had finally found his driving counterpart!

Note that unlike some series of late wherein championships were won with three, maybe four steady entrants -- two sometimes owned by the same guy -- Dorsey's competition wasn't even close to lightweight.

In the season's final race --traditionally among the least contested regardless of series -- on St. Petersburg, Florida's 2-mile street course, Dorsey faced the likes of the aforementioned St. James, Sharp, Tommy Kendall, Paul Gentilozzi and Irv Hoerr, who finished first to Dorsey's third.

Indeed, the race having the fewest starters, 27, in the 1989 Trans-Am season came in the Stroh's Light Grand Prix at the 3-mile Brainerd (Minn.) International Raceway, where Dorsey was in the second of his nine-race streak and at the end of which he finished second, having faced talented drivers like Sharp, St. James, Hoerr (first place), Kendall, Bob Sobey, The Two Pauls - Newman and Gentilozzi - and Jim Derhaag.

Having no fear or, perhaps in his case, "sense," Dorsey would win the season's two most-contested races at Mid-Ohio and Road America, where 38 and 37 respective starters tried and failed to dislodge Dorsey from the topmost point on the race podium. Even Ron Fellows, third in a Roush Ford Mustang, gave it a shot at Road America.

It was a heckuva run; talk about being "in a zone," Schroeder was "there."

Indeed, especially given the competition, Dorsey Schroeder's 1989 season was among the best ever compiled by any driver, anywhere, anytime.

Human growth hormone?

Deer antler spray?

Failed apocalyptic signal?

Who knows; who cares?

It was cool.

The most incredible part of the Dorsey Schroeder story?

He today celebrates the conclusion of his 60th year and Dorsey wants to go racing one more time!

I'm in!

Happy Birthday, Dorsey!

Later,

DC

POST-ROLEX 24

 

DAYTONA BEACH – I tried but just couldn't conjure a catchier title. I'm out of 'em for the time being.

WHO CARES!? - "Superstar Power In Focus," the live-coverage sTuporCenter Talking Head said from New Orleans on Monday of the just-passed week, "teasing" a short subject of video-taped instances last weekend done, of which deeper examinations were to come and within which were references to Tiger, basketball, hockey and of course, The Bowl of Stupor.

Entirely absent from that following hour's coverage was even a mere mention of The Rolex 24 or its newest five-time overall winner.

At least the español version of the video bible of all things sport, StuporCenter Deportes, displayed a 30-second blip (no, Menendez, not "clip") that seemed inadequate when it portrayed in such little time an event whose total time dwarf's nearly every other sporting activity (remember The Iditarod).

Then again, maybe ESPN still is irritated about the time when it was locked out of the 2003 Daytona International Speedway NASCAR paddock.

Of course, one can voice their displeasure and "vote" with their TV dial (ask your grandpa), but how might ESPN understand why it may have lost any viewership? Osmosis? Should the same happen next year, Twit (or whatever the next-best instantaneous messaging means might be) your displeasure.

AJ WAS RIGHT - In Daytona International Speedway's post-race media center, A.J. Allmendinger, who co-drove the third-place Michael Shank Racing Not-A-BMW Ford-Riley, was asked about his late race mano-a-mano restart tilt with João Barbosa and his No. 9 AXR Not-A-BMW Corvette-Coyote.

(All things considered, with respect to the "Corvette" your humble scribe prefers dispensing with the "chassis by Coyote" or "chassis by Dallara" as stated by numerous talking heads. Let's just call it "Corvette," K? GM likely would prefer it, anyway. And, maybe the same time next year, we'll be able to dispense with Ford-Dallara in favor of "EVOS" or, even better, "Mustang." Surely the Riley gang won't mind losing the chassis face time if they're raking cash, right?)

João Barbosa is one of those guys that most everyone on sight alone fails to perceive a race car driver. Barbosa exhibits a reserved, gentlemanly street-side demeanor that is far more desirable to the CIA than, say, "Bond James Bond," because he doesn't draw attention to self unless conditions warrant – like a fight for position.

Put O Assassino Português in a car and have someone threaten to overtake and, well, it generally doesn't go well for "the threat." (Such not being a matter of doing bad things to good or bad people. It's just that Barbosa is disinclined to change a line if he owns it. Why would anyone?)

Remember if you will, The 'Dinger and O Assassino Português had a late-race, final-restart, door to door dust-off that put The 'Dinger into the dirt while exiting the Pedro Rodriguez International Turn (a.k.a. "The East Horseshoe" and/or "Turn 3" and/or "The First Horseshoe" and/or "The Horseshoe That's Not The West Horseshoe" – really, all of the preceding and still more have been heard by this correspondent).

Soon enough, O Assassino Português was ordered to the penalty box, though not without some dispute beforehand by team manager Elton Sawyer. (And it wasn't Mark Raffauf who levied the penalty! Can anyone imagine that!?).

Frankly, at the time even yours truly thought The 'Dinger's move a dumb one, figuring perhaps at fault was The 'Dinger's lack of familiarity with O Assassino Português, who in 2012's summer Detroit visit properly fired back a eerily calm "the track's green" when sister-car driver David Donohue took verbal umbrage with his sudden one-position fall after Barbosa, within a millisecond's time, drove around a fractionally blocked Double-D.

Back in Daytona and facing press representatives from around the world (in a very busy media center) during the post-race news conference hardly an hour afterward – flanked by John Pew, Ozz Negri and Justin Wilson – The 'Dinger seemed entirely indifferent to having been run off the road by O Assassino Português.

" . . . With an hour to go it's 'go' time . . . (so) I got around him (O Assassino Português) on the outside in (Turn) 1 and at that point I knew I had to go. That was my only chance . . . (because ) we weren't going to beat the (No.) 01 (Chip Ganassi Racing) car . . . so I thought we had a chance to compete for second . . . (so) we were (door handle to door handle) and (Barbosa) just used me up (pursuing the line, pushing The 'Dinger to the grass, er, dirt) . . . (filling) the whole radiator up with dirt so we had to pit (so as to remove the debris)."

"Fortunately(,) he (Barbosa) got a penalty for that so we could get the podium. (It is) just one of (them) racing (deals). No hard feeling there; it was a fun battle," The 'Dinger said.

Wanna bet Barbosa doesn't see it differently?

Note that The 'Dinger didn't say anything, didn't even hint at Barbosa's penalty as being "deserved" or "what he shoulda got." Indeed, one might infer The 'Dinger feels he and the team caught a lucky break after his taking an off-line, top-of-turn, apex-way-the-heck-out-there run on a higher position.

Generally applauded are drivers who manage to pull off such a gutsy but a generally low-percentage-return move ("low percentage" because such rarely is accomplished and, according to Ol' DC's Skip Barber schooling, the turn's track-out point is massively shortened) and that without heroic measures will put a car into the very dirt in which The 'Dinger found himself.

A.J. ALLMENDINGER, WINNER - Still, The 'Dinger actually won, overall, after agreeably taking, calmly answering questions focused on his "The Nightmare On International Speedway Blvd.," at one point noting with a smile, "This track hasn't been very kind to me, you know," he for the first time revisiting for a competition the place where it all began to go "right" last summer, admitting and detailing what he'd since learned of himself in the wake of that early July weekend.

There really isn't much desire on this writer's part to deeply delve into what The 'Dinger said as much as it is a desire to note that he well handled the overall situation when he could've done a "Mayfield" in the first instance.

Hopefully, with The 'Dinger singing "I can see clearly now" that it'll all work out in his favor. True, the banned substance thing was a setback – he's a bit behind where he probably would've been had it not gone down – but based on what Ol' DC has seen The 'Dinger also is way ahead.

Oh! About what was The 'Dinger correct?

No one was " . . . going to beat the (No.) 01 (Chip Ganassi Racing) car."

HINT, HINT - And, speaking of "no one," that's coincidentally the same quantity that should've been surprised at the BMW's strength because a considerable hint was delivered of its ability to, uh, "motor" during Test Days or, as Daytona International Speedway would prefer, "The Roar Before The 24."

Dane Cameron, a young (sorry, Dane, but you are that as compared to Ol' DC), hungry driver with clearly settled ability and who, with Katherine Crawford, Mr. Joe Sahlen and the Family Nonnamaker's support (in the sense of "team") drove the No.42 Sahlen's BMW-Riley – an "older" chassis bought from AXR with updates and a Gen-3 body – cut a second-best "Roar" 1:42.101 lap in early January's third practice session (only the Sahlen Racing car's second) at the end of Day One of the three-day test.

Reiterating Cameron's skill: Somebody shoulda seen it and believed it.

Maybe next time they will.

AWOL AMBROSE - Marcos Ambrose's contract evidently didn't carry a "post-race news conference" codicil inasmuch as he skipped the post-race microphone lineup in which journalists demand answers.

Giving him doubt's benefit, Ambrose might've been ill after failing to remember a Rolex 24 isn't terribly fun unless you're, say, highest on a podium – something he surely learned in 2005 as part of the "Aussie Assault" Rolex 24 team that didn't do anywhere near as well as it may have planned.

Then there's the possibility Ambrose also was aware no penalty at all had been exacted of Juan Pablo Montoya when El Asesino Colombiano left teammates Scott Dixon, Jamie McMurray and Dario Franchitti at the, um, altar of media inquisition after the 2012 Rolex 24 At Daytona's conclusion.

Whatever the case, Ambrose is an interesting guy. A pleasure with which to spar verbally (he's got smarts) and it would've surely been a gas to learn his post-race thoughts. It's probable Ol' DC will catch up with Mr. Ambrose at a later time and during which his post-24 thoughts will be gathered and of which the reader will be informed. (Hopefully; I'm an old guy and all.)

SHANK TAKING THE STAND - No, the MSR team didn't get a first place to back their 2012 Rolex 24 win, but they did finish solidly in third and climbed the post-race podium, even though later rescinded. As is usually the case, no specifics were given, only the oblique, “Somebody done somebody wrong song.”

The team still finished third. Then again, might that be the reason Marcos booked it?

Nah.

Days before the event team owner Mike Shank recorded a fairly profound statement in a pre-race MRN Radio interview, later played during the race, in which Shank said, "After 10 years we know how to do this gig" – or something to that effect.

This listener at that moment realized he, since Shank's first race of the 2004 season, has watched nearly every moment of an in-the-making "Ganassi-style" dynasty in a relatively young Shank. Someday, when Ol' DC is dead and gone, Shank will be hoisting Rolex 24 and Indy 500 winner's trophies high in the air. Later, publicist Matt Clearly (yes, Menendez, it's intentional), still dressing in a white shirt over black pants, will remind Shank that "Ol' DC once predicted" the two-trophy wins.

Shank, his hair still on fire, will turn to Clearly and say, "Who?"

Really? Does anyone have any doubt to the contrary? (About Shank winning, folks.)

WELL, STARWORKS DARN-SURE DIDN'T - What the heck happened to Peter Baron and his two-car squad?

First of all, some end-of-2012-season changes – most notably Enzo Potolicchio booking it (apparently fairly so for the most part and not, repeat, owing any more money to Baron than contractually obligated) – kind of led to some off-season changes that whittled Starworks Motorsport to one car it could or would fully call its own.

Running the risk of appearing to maliciously malign Starworks Motorsports' No. 8 Sunoco Ford-Riley, the top car administered by Starworks Motorsport is the No. 2 Starworks with Alex Popow Ford-Riley entry (Really. Write nasty letters to: Felix Sabates, C/O Earnhardt Ganassi Racing with Felix Sabates, 8500 Westmoreland Drive, Concord, NC 28027).

The No. 2 Starworks with Alex Popow Non-BMW-Riley entry was in the battle until the final couple of hours after some ingested sand/grass did a very quick, near-disastrous number on the engine, via a clogged cooling system.

Finishing sixth and 13-laps down for a Baron-led team isn't where they'd like to have been if it is to successfully again challenge for the championship, especially when one considers the defending Rolex Series DP champs won the opening race of that team's final Grand-Am championship defense. (Now Chip, don't get all riled and all. It is what it is, you know.)

Principally, they missed the car's setup. Little wonder when the rear-wing rules were changed the week of the Rolex 24, thereby possibly trashing for years to come the value of early January's "Roar Before The 24."

Huh?

RAMBLE ON, WILLIAMS, RAMBLE ON - Crew: $500-per-night lodging, under the best of conditions. Food: easily the equal, but let's give it $250 a day (three squares for ALL the crew). Car rental: Let's be cheap, real cheap and say $50 per rental at, say, two rentals, equals $100 a day. Commercial air, when airplane seats sell out – and they did on so many flights that Delta first added more 757, 737 and, when all of that was full, an extra flight – at $300 per round trip is a decent cost estimate and at, say, seven people per team, including drivers (a lot of 'em drove up from South Florida. Even better for João Barbosa and AXR: He slept in his own bed).

Okay, so what we've got is $850 each day (on the big-time, probably no-way cheap) for 5- to 7-team members at three nights equals $2,550. Throw in the airfare, six sets of tires and, suddenly, we're pressing 20 large, very large . . . and not the first gallon of race gas, at $WayHigh each gallon, and so on goeth prices.

All that spent and then someone else trashes the data by moving, say, an aero surface at a veritable last minute?

People tend not to want to play a game called "Futility." When people have to cut fat checks just to get, ahem, "frustrated" they tend to stop those checks before writing 'em. Really. Think about it a moment or two when coming down from the anger high.

Racing's supposed to be fun! I mean, how many people tell drivers to climb into cars and "Have a bad run!" Or, even better, "'Pop a tire!' because your chassis settings will change when others don't."

Yes, yes, I can hear Tim Keene now, saying something to the effect of, "We had a Riley and we finished the race."

"Mr. Keene, you also had an engine program shared only with Team Sahlen and Highway To Help." (Not argued herein is the partially conceded point that others could've gone "BMW," too, but didn't. Steve Dinan wouldn't have been able to build sufficient numbers of engine had, say, even three other teams switched in the last two or three months.)

One supposes DIS will have all the entries it can handle next year. On the other hand, it might have fewer than it would like, especially with the grumbling from the guys on the other side, saying something like, "And then they changed the rules just before the race and screwed up tire wear for at least a few Rileys that had just managed to dial it in earlier in the month."

If one loses 10-percent on, say, $100, it's 10 bucks. Lose 10-percent on $1 million and we're getting into a couple-or-three annual DIS salaries, folks.

LET'S TWEAK THE RULES ONE LAST TIME - It's the final season before the New World Order comes to the forefront, roughly one-year-minus-one-month hence.

You folks over in "Consolidation" really need to concentrate on the 2014 rulebook, right? Bringing together two series formerly having disparate philosophical views is fraught with twists and turns that need proper straightening, right?

So, please, just give everyone what they'd like to see at least one (and last) time: No more dinking with 2013 performance equivalencies, moving wings here nor increasing or decreasing restrictor plates there.

Just cut "Competitor Bulletin 2013-7" and within which strike all applicable DP mechanical language and insert: "Run What Ya Brung, Son."

Might as well do it with GT, too.

Then witness the crowd counts.

It'll be only for the 2013 season's remainder (on the record) and during which the powers-that-be can focus on 2014 with all the "necessary" restrictions properly threshed beforehand.

It'll be fun "For The Fans"; the ensuing races will burn immense sums of money (and convince owners to gladly accept a return to "restrictions").

Should sponsors turn out in droves to support the new "Run What Ya Brung" format and (nearly) everyone makes gobs of money, then burnt will be the proposed 2014 rules, everyone learning the "Run/Brung" was a strategy the whole doggone time.

With Run/Brung in the rules forefront, unneeded then is a "technical" staff – who has as much of a vested interest in a perpetual fine-tuning of rules as do legislatures filled with lawyers likewise parsing new statutes (rules), which then provide generations of Morgans, Morgans and Morgans, Attorneys In Perpetuity, plenty of advertising time.

Later,

DC

HONEYMOON IS DONE

DAYTONA BEACH – On the way to Daytona International Speedway and walking through his front door Saturday morning, Ol’ DC took an early daylight peek at the sun poking into the horizon's distant sky. Having for his life's length been in and very near to water's largest bodies, Ol' DC couldn't help but mutter, "Red skies morning; sailors take warning."

An early learned, ingrained longstanding saying that has proved as wildly incorrect as some overpaid TV weather announcers, consequently learned and ingrained is the wisdom of reviewing weather prognostications from one or more credible sources.

No need for such secondary check today, though, because even had God or Mom Nature or Barack Obama ordered-up perfectly blue skies they still wouldn't have chased away the dark cloud that formed over DIS and the across-the-street International Motorsports Center in the wake of the high-noon news conference by ALMS' chief operating officer, Scott Elkins, and Grand-Am managing director of competition, Richard Buck.

Indeed, so intense is the cloud that not only did it continue to "hang" overnight but it still was quite evident Saturday morning.

Furthermore, given the mood of more than a few haphazardly encountered racing-type souls in Saturday morning's sportscar garage, er, paddock, one couldn't help but walk away with the impression that the evermore darkening cloud wasn't about to dissipate anytime soon.

For sure, surprising was the sheer volume (as in "high number count," Menendez) of unsolicited comments encountered upon a first stroll through the garage.

Ol' DC has at times over the years wondered about those who seem perfectly at ease in carrying personal-sized dark clouds.

A draconian subset of the Dark Cloud Society at times leaves one wondering how another could possibly live a life filled with such levels of negativity and that drowned in it are any who come within range of their personal vortexes.

Indeed, in the want of avoiding the aforementioned, some motorsports journalists have expressed a preference of running across hot tracks in the hope of escaping a pursuing Dark Cloud devotee.

Given the number of the usually inclined "rose-colored-glass" folks this writer encountered Saturday, one can only imagine what any of the Dark Cloud types might've said about Friday's "Grand-Am, American Le Mans Series Announce Class Structure for Unified Series" in which bared was "Organizations Taking Inclusionary, 'Best Of Both Worlds' Multi-Class Approach."

"Funny, we (the Grand-Am side) correctly went from multiple classes of cars, and thoroughly confused consumers, to two classes," said one among Saturday's sea of the unusually disinclined.

"In a year's time we'll have doubled the classes, while losing one Grand-Am class in the process.

"I 'get it' that there are some things they feel they have to do. What I don't 'get' is why they evidently think I'm so stupid that I can't possibly get what they think they have to do because no matter how many times I've asked 'em, the only thing they say when I ask any of 'em is, 'Well, it's what we've got to do!'"

"Grand-Am had a 'work in progress' going before this," he continued, "it was the one where we went from four or five classes of race cars down to two. And it was a good move, too. Or so I thought. Evidently I was wrong, because next year we're going back to, what is it, four or five classes? Even that reporter (The Daytona Beach News-Journal's Godwin Kelly) had to ask them (Elkins and Buck) how many classes would be at Daytona because he was confused about how many classes there would be next year. When people are confused about what you're talking about, what do you think they'll be thinking when it's actually done?"

Other comments:

"Tell me the one reason for the Daytona Prototype. It was the roof. The whole DP thing, from first-thought to on-the-track, was something like 8, 9 months after Jeff Clinton was killed in Miami" (DC Note: driving an open-top SRP2). "What'll we do next? Drop the HANS because no one's died from a neck injury?"

"I'm, like, thoroughly and totally confused. I've felt like a salmon swimming upstream since September's buyout because I've been telling people 'It isn't a merger because Grand-Am bought out those guys.' Man, I was way off the mark. I'll tell you that. Way off the mark. I was totally wrong as to who did what. But I'll tell ya, I coulda swore it was the other way around."

"I'm confused."

"Jim France cuts a check to buy the (ALMS) series lock, stock and barrel, and now we're changing rules to accommodate the guys who were bought out? I thought 'we' won!? When the IRL bought ChampCar, did they take cars from each series and consolidate them into one class. Hell no, they didn't! And now we're gonna do it? What's the deal with that?"

"Elkins and Buck said they were going to try to maximize the money people have in their racing equipment. How about the money I have in my class? And next year they're going to stick me in with the GTC cars. So much for the value of my property."

As Jedd Clampett often said, "Wee doggie!"

Four months ago when the Grand-Am/ALMS-IMSA deal was announced there were an insufficient number of backs to slap.

Ol' DC thinks the honeymoon looks cooked at this point. Yet, one shouldn't have thought it wouldn't end. They always do.

Later,

DC