Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: TUESDAY, February 16, 1993 TAG: 9302160323
SECTION: SPORTS PAGE: B5 EDITION: NEW RIVER VALLEY
SOURCE: BOB ZELLER STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: DAYTONA BEACH, FLA. LENGTH: Long
WHILE DAD DID THE PRAYING, SON DID NUTS-AND-BOLTS WORK
J.D. GIBBS, son of Washington Redskins coach and car owner Joe Gibbs, became a pit-crew member for Dale Jarrett on Sunday. His job was to make sure the left-side tires didn't come off.\ Two hours after Dale Jarrett's nail-biting victory in the Daytona 500 on Sunday, the sun was about to set behind Daytona International Speedway. The garage was nearly empty.
But Jarrett's team lagged behind. They had not even loaded their race car; it still was undergoing a tedious, meticulous NASCAR inspection. The team was in no rush, however; this was a day to savor.
In the group hanging around the back of the hauler was Joe Gibbs' oldest boy, J.D., who knew that Dad and Dale and crew chief Jimmy Makar were off giving interviews and probably wouldn't be back for some time.
While his father, who owns the team, had stood in the pits with little to do but pray for victory, 23-year-old J.D. Gibbs, a William and Mary alumnus and former football player there, actually had taken part.
The young Gibbs became an over-the-wall pit crewman Sunday. He never may have a more memorable race.
"This was his first time," his proud father and coach of the Washington Redskins said. "He'd never done it before."
The young Gibbs' job involved 30 lug nuts. Lug nuts that he had to blast on and blast off left-side tires, five at a time. Lug nuts that he had to spear with an air gun on a hot and noisy car with nary a half-second to spare.
Thirty lug nuts - including one he'll never forget. It was on the left rear tire, and he left it hanging as loose as a necktie at the end of a party.
One loose nut out of five isn't going to hurt anything. But it's kind of like a four-engine plane that loses an engine. It gives you a queasy feeling.
"On the first pit stop, we just changed two [right-side] tires, so I didn't have anything to do," Gibbs said.
The second stop was a full four-tire stop, and Gibbs went over the wall with his air gun. First, he loosened the five nuts on the left front tire.
Then, crouching low, he rushed to the back of the car, taking care to avoid the water bottle pole being pushed into Jarrett's window. "Last year, I was water boy and I smacked a guy in the head," he said.
At the left rear tire, Gibbs had about 13 seconds to remove the five nuts on the old tire, yank the tire off, replace it and slam home the nuts, which already are stuck to the wheel.
"I hit 'em all," he said. "It felt good."
Gibbs was ready for this work, but nothing prepared him how gritty and noisy it was.
"We practiced a lot, but we never practiced with the car running and with the tires hot and the exhaust blowing in your face," Gibbs said. "It was kind of like playing football. You get the jitters until you make that first hit."
On the second four-tire stop, "I left one [nut] loose," Gibbs said. "Four is enough, but I didn't want to take any chances.
"So when Dale came back in [for fuel only] on that last stop, I jumped back over the wall and smacked it one more time. I could see it hanging there."
Stock car racing is the only team sport where, on game day, one person plays 95 percent of the game. And the rest of the team can't even see much of what he is doing.
So when it came down to those exciting final two laps, and Jarrett battled past Dale Earnhardt, the pit crew and Coach Gibbs saw less than nearly everyone at the track.
The shape of the trioval frontstretch at Daytona eliminates most of the track from view for those in the pits.
From the pits, the viewer sees the lead draft for about three seconds - slightly less than the hang time of a good punt. The long string of roaring machines will come streaming past the start/finish line, their motors blasting in unison. Then they're gone, and their sound fades.
Sunday, as starter Doyle Ford began waving the white flag for the last lap, the massive crowd began roaring with cheers and Makar and the rest of the crew caught a glimpse of Jarrett and Earnhardt, side-by-side.
"I was praying a lot, that's what I was doing," Coach Gibbs said. "You're there in contortions. You can't do anything. It's a lot like fourth-and-one on the goal line for me. You gotta live an eternity by the time they call the play."
The last lap, Makar said, is "probably the longest 47 seconds anybody will ever go through."
"You don't know," he said. "You see the cars go by and you can see the fans jumping up and down. But then you don't know. That's the hardest thing."
Jarrett, of course, was rather preoccupied, so he didn't talk on his radio until he was sure of victory.
"When Dale was coming into the trioval [for the checkered flag], he hollered, "It's ours! It's ours!' " Makar said. "That's the best thing I've ever heard in my life."
Said Jarrett, "I made sure I got all the way through turn four before I pushed my radio button. I figured I had it won when I hit the trioval, so that's when I radioed."
J.D. Gibbs never heard it. In the confusion and excitement, his headphones fell off.
"This definitely compares to the Super Bowl," the young Gibbs said. "But one thing is different. They take a lot more pictures in Victory Lane."
Keywords:
AUTO RACING
Memo: shorter version ran in the Metro edition.